A Weaver Vow Read online

  She automatically took the bottle from him. His fingers were cold from the ice water but the bottle was colder. “You said something to him.”

  His lips tilted slightly. “It’s a guy thing.”

  “Seriously. I want to know.”

  His smile just widened a little. He shifted and reached for one of the red plastic cups, then started to draw a beer.

  “You’re really not going to tell me?”

  He tilted his cup, letting some foam pour off as he continued filling. “I’m really not.” Evidently satisfied with the head he had left, he turned off the flow and dropped the hose back into the ice. “So what sort of dessert person are you? Chocolate brownies, cheesecake or apple pie?”

  She’d served him apple pie at the diner the day they’d met. He’d eaten every crumb. “Cheesecake,” she allowed begrudgingly. If he wouldn’t tell her what he’d said, she’d ask Murphy.

  Of course, he didn’t exactly tell her every little thing, either.

  Annoyance bubbled.

  As if Erik recognized it, his eyes crinkled with amusement while he took a leisurely drink of his beer. “Cheesecake’s my favorite, too,” he said when he was finished. “And we’d better hurry if we want to be sure of getting any. Knowing Squire, he’ll have a helping or two of everything else after he’s tried decimating the brownie supply.”

  “Good for him.”

  His smile widened. “You gonna get more irked if I tell you that your eyes sparkle when you’re mad?”

  She huffed and turned on her heel, irritably taking a swallow of root beer. It was creamy and spicy all at the same time. Utterly delicious.

  She broke into a jog and caught up to Lucy.

  Lucy gave her a close look. “What’s wrong?”

  Isabella shook her head. “Nothing.” She set aside the bottle on the picnic table and reached for the baby. Holding Sunny would keep her occupied enough that she’d be able to get her head together. “Here. Let me take her for a while.”

  Lucy happily handed over the sleeping infant. Isabella had become more comfortable holding a baby in the weeks since she’d arrived. But it was still a little nerve-racking.

  She gently grazed her knuckle against Sunny’s downy-soft cheek and carried her over to one of the wooden Adirondack chairs that were scattered about on the grass. She gingerly sat. The baby slept blissfully on.

  But Isabella’s gaze kept straying toward Erik. He and Murphy were standing off to one side, talking with Lucy’s husband, Beck, and both men were laughing. Murphy, too, had a crooked smile on his lips.

  She wished for Murphy’s hat back so it would help shade her eyes from the sight.

  Instead, she had to satisfy herself with resting her head against the back of the chair and closing her eyes.

  But nothing would help get rid of the image of them.

  Erik and Murphy.

  Together.

  Smiling.

  * * *

  “She looks good with a baby in her arms.”

  Erik watched Murph head off toward the horse barn with Connor and Zach. He didn’t have to look over to where Isabella was sitting to know what Beck meant. “Most people do.”

  “Don’t kid me, man. Your feelings are written right on your face. You got a good hankering going on for Lucy’s friend.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s got a good longing going on for the fiancé she lost.” He looked at Beck. Before the man had married Lucy, he’d already had two children—one who was now away at college and one who was just a little girl. Their mother had died before a grieving Beck had moved to Weaver. “Not sure she’ll get over it that easily.”

  “She won’t,” Beck said bluntly. “Not if she loved him. But a person can realize they have more room inside than they thought. If they meet the right person, they’ll feel that way again no matter how certain they were that they wouldn’t. It’ll never be exactly the same, but it damn sure can be just as good.” He looked over toward Isabella again. Lucy was sitting cross-legged on the grass beside her, waving a brownie in the air as she chattered. “One of the hardest parts is just being able to admit that and not feel like you’re betraying the person you lost.”

  “You felt that way with Luce?”

  “You might say that.” Beck’s voice was dry. “Harmony and I had a long marriage,” he added after a moment. “We’d still be married now if she hadn’t died. But that wasn’t what the cards held for us.” He smiled slightly, looking across at his wife. “I have a brand-new wife I love just as deeply as I did Nick and Shelby’s mom. They have a brand-new sister they adore almost as much as Lucy and I do, and there’s nothing about where I am today with this new life that I regret. If I hadn’t loved Harmony first, I’m not sure I’d be able to appreciate that fact so clearly.” He clapped Erik on the shoulder. “But Isabella’s got a boy. So be sure about what you’re wanting. And she’s my wife’s best friend. If it’s something that’s gonna pass after the newness wears off, keep your sights moving. Because the two of them definitely don’t deserve more pain in their lives.”

  “It’s not gonna pass.” Erik finally dragged his eyes away from Isabella and looked at his friend. “It’s not gonna pass,” he repeated flatly.

  He knew it down to his bones. He, who hadn’t been looking for a girlfriend, much less something more, couldn’t envision a future at all unless she was by his side.

  “Then just give her time. And space,” the other man advised. Then he smiled crookedly. “But not too much space. At least that’s sorta how it worked for Luce and me.” Then he jogged across the grass. He flopped down next to his wife and hauled her close for a kiss that clearly surprised as much as it delighted.

  Erik hid a sigh. Putting what he hoped was a casual expression on his face, he went to collect a few servings of cheesecake.

  Isabella wasn’t going to the dessert table.

  So the desserts would come to her.

  He carried the plates over. Lucy and Beck were still sitting beside her on the grass, giving each other besotted looks. Isabella’s eyes were closed like the baby’s.

  But he knew she wasn’t sleeping.

  She was too tense. It showed in the nervous tapping of her pink-tipped toes against the ground.

  “If you want someone to feed you cheesecake,” he greeted, “keep your eyes closed. Otherwise, stop faking.” He ignored Lucy’s barely stifled laugh. Beck tugged her to her feet and hustled her away.

  Isabella’s eyelids snapped up. “I wasn’t faking. I was trying to relax. Isn’t that what this afternoon was supposed to be about?”

  He took a seat next to her on the grass and held up one of the plates. “You going to tell me you don’t want some of this?” Glistening red cherries were sliding off the fat wedge of cheesecake and onto the plate. “It’s one of my grandmother’s specialties.”

  Her soft lips pursed. The baby was sound asleep, stretched across her lap.

  “This is something not to be missed.” He waved the dessert under her nose. “She only makes it a few times a year.”

  She took the plate, holding it aloft over the baby. “You’re relentless.”

  “When I need to be.” He handed her a plastic fork and sat down to dig into his own helping. “Murphy’s gone over to the horse barn with the twins. They’re checking out some puppies. Evidently Zach and Connor are trying to convince J.D. and Jake that they need another dog. As if they don’t have enough animals already.” He filled his fork with cheesecake. “They have a horse rescue,” he added, “and God knows how many dogs and cats already.” He pushed the cheesecake into his mouth. It really was his favorite, but he was more interested in getting Isabella to enjoy hers than he was in enjoying his own. “But you know kids. Never enough pets.”

  “Murphy wants a dog.”

  Erik nodded. “Most boys do.”

  “So do girls,” she murmured, then looked quickly down at her dessert. She took an infinitesimal amount on the tip of her fork and tucked it between her lips.

  H
e couldn’t help but smile when she groaned a little and took a healthier bite. “Told you it was good.”

  “It’s heavenly.” She didn’t look at him. “Murphy knows we can’t afford a dog. Vet bills. Dog food. I just can’t do it.” Her lips curved down. “And I know exactly how that sounds to a kid who desperately wants a pet.”

  “You didn’t have any pets when you were a kid?”

  “A few of the families I lived with had a dog or a cat. But it was never mine.” She lifted her shoulder, as if it hadn’t meant much to her. “I was moved frequently enough anyway that even if one of the families wanted to let me have a pet, there’d have been no point.”

  He forgot about his cheesecake altogether. He had a feeling he knew what she meant, making it even clearer why she was determined to retain guardianship of Murphy. “Families. As in foster families?”

  Her lips compressed. She nodded, then quickly stuck a huge forkful into her mouth. “This is really good,” she managed around the enormous bite.

  “And you don’t want to talk about it,” he guessed. “The foster families, I mean. Not the cheesecake.”

  Her gaze flicked to his. She swallowed the bite and caught a fleck of crust from the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue. “Do you think your grandmother would give me the recipe?”

  He smiled slightly. It was no easy task squelching the urge to kiss away the tiny golden crumb she’d missed. “She will if she figures you’re gonna give me a piece, too.”

  Her eyes widened. She laughed. “You have no shame.”

  He just smiled and lifted his last forkful of the dessert. She’d laughed. It hadn’t been tinged with sadness, and he felt as if he’d just won the World Series. “What can I say? I like cheesecake.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ruby’s was doing a brisk lunch business when Isabella heard the bell jangle over the door and looked over to see Erik walking in.

  She quickly looked down at the coffee mug she was filling before she spilled the piping-hot brew all over the counter. “There you go, Deputy.” She pulled Deputy Ruiz’s check from the pad in her pocket and slipped it under the edge of the sturdy white plate holding the slice of chocolate cake she’d just served him. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  The radio on his hip crackled and he reached down to adjust the volume as he slid his cake closer. “Thanks, Iz.”

  “Hey, Erik.” Tabby, Isabella’s boss, who also worked the lunch shift, greeted him. “You come in for lunch?”

  Isabella looked away and focused on retrieving an order from the window behind her. It had been three days since she’d last seen him at the barbecue at the Double-C. Three days during which she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head.

  Not even learning from their caseworker two days ago that Murphy’s natural mother had been located had succeeded in eradicating Erik from her thoughts. And it should have. The news had been more than stunning—it had been wholly unwelcome.

  She gathered up the plates and carried them around the counter to deliver to the trio of women at one of her tables. From their conversation, she could tell that the young one was getting married soon, but she certainly wasn’t happy about some of the details.

  Isabella set their sandwiches in place. “Would you like fresh iced teas?”

  “God, no.” The bride shuddered and flicked her long brown hair over her shoulder. “Bring me ice water. With lemon wedges. Not slices.” She somehow managed to look down her nose at Isabella even though she was sitting and Isabella was standing. Isabella had been looked down on by women considerably better at it than this girl. And with everything else on her mind, she couldn’t be bothered to be either offended or amused. “Certainly.” She smiled her practiced and pleasant smile before moving her gaze to the girl’s companions. Mother and grandmother, she’d guessed, considering the physical resemblance. “And for you ladies?”

  The mother gave her an awkward smile. “More tea would be lovely. Thank you.” The grandmother nodded, as well.

  Taking the offending glass of tea from the table, Isabella turned back toward the counter. Her pace faltered a bit when she saw that Erik had seated himself at the only available stool at the crowded counter instead of in one of the booths.

  The counter was hers.

  Which meant she’d have to serve him.

  She swallowed hard and hurried around the counter. “Afternoon.” She started to slide a menu in front of him.

  “Don’t need that.” He smiled at her. “You’ve got a busy shift here.”

  She nodded. After setting a glass of water in front of him, she washed her hands at the sink beneath the counter and deftly sliced a fresh lemon into wedges. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”

  “No hurry.” As if he’d done it hundreds of times, he flipped over his coffee mug and stretched across the counter to retrieve the pitcher of fresh lemonade, which he poured into the mug.

  She would rather he were in a hurry. Then she’d be assured of him leaving quickly.

  She dropped a lemon wedge into a fresh glass of ice water, grabbed the tea pitcher along with the little bowl she’d filled with the rest of the wedges and returned to the table.

  The bride took one look at the water glass and sighed loudly. “I didn’t ask you to add the lemon to my water.” She pushed the glass aside.

  “Bethany,” the grandmother chided, and plucked the lemon wedge out of the water and dropped it on the stack in the bowl. “Better?”

  Isabella placidly refilled the tea glasses. “How are your sandwiches? Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  “They’re fine,” the grandmother said, giving her granddaughter a steely look. “Thank you.”

  Isabella escaped around the counter again. “What’ll it be?”

  “Meat-loaf special.”

  She tucked away her pad without writing. Easiest, most popular meal of the day. “You got it.” She refilled his water, then headed through the swinging doors into the kitchen where Tabby was dishing up a helping of meat loaf that she stacked on a mountain of fluffy mashed potatoes. She added a soft roll, two little balls of butter and a small bowl of baked beans.

  “Here.” The young woman held out the plate to Isabella. “Erik always orders the meat loaf when he comes in on Wednesdays,” she added in explanation. “How’s Bethany the B—and I don’t mean bride—behaving today?”

  Isabella took the piping-hot plate. “I gather she’s always...selective?”

  Tabby grinned. “That’s one way to put it. My mother is making her wedding gown. The B has changed her mind several times on the style, the fabric, the trim. Mom’s had to start from scratch each time, yet Her Highness can’t understand why my mother is getting the teensiest bit perturbed.”

  Isabella wrinkled her nose. “I’ve dressed more than a few dancers with similar attitudes.” She added to her load a plated cheeseburger and fries from Bubba and headed back out front.

  She delivered the burger to the man at the end of the counter, then slid Erik’s plate in front of him, along with a napkin-wrapped set of utensils. “Tabby says you order this every Wednesday.”

  He put the napkin on the lap of his dusty blue jeans and nodded. He’d set his faded John Deere ball cap on the counter out of his way and his gaze slid across her face like a warm breeze. “I know what I like.”

  How the man could make her feel flustered with just a look was beyond her. “Well.” She wiped her palms down the sides of her apron and topped off his lemonade once more. “Let me know if you need anything else.” Even though her automatic scan of her tables told her all was well, she took the tea and water pitchers around anyway.

  When she reached Bethany’s table, she paused. “How is everyone doing? The chocolate pie is particularly phenomenal today if you’re considering dessert.”

  Bethany huffed. “Do we look like we’re interested in chocolate pie?”

  Grandma gave the B a stern look. “I’m interested,” she said tartly. “An
d just because neither your mother nor I are willing to break the news to your poor seamstress that you’re changing the entire design of your dress again with the wedding only a few weeks away is no reason for you to take out your foul mood on the rest of us.” Grandma smiled up at Isabella and her voice lost all of its steel. “Make my pie to go, if you would, dear.”

  “Absolutely.” She’d include a little extra whipped cream, too, just because.

  The mother merely shook her head wearily, so Isabella continued on her way. She could see Erik from the corner of her eye as she worked her way around all of the tables. Then she nipped into the kitchen to warn Tabby, for her mother’s sake, that another design change was in the making. Tabby grimaced and immediately went over to the old-fashioned rotary-dial phone hanging on one wall and started to dial.

  After Isabella quickly prepared the to-go container of chocolate pie and delivered it, she ended up in front of Erik again. He’d been steadily decimating his meal. “Mind bringing me a few more rolls?”

  “Coming up.” She turned back into the kitchen. It had to be a testament to good metabolism and his very active lifestyle that kept his build as honed as it was. Because it certainly wasn’t from dieting. More than once she’d seen him pack away meals of a size that made even Murphy’s mammoth appetite look puny.

  She returned with a basket full of rolls and a small plate of butter balls.

  “Thanks.” He grabbed one of the rolls, split it in half, slathered butter on it, followed by a generous helping of the strawberry jam one of the locals kept Ruby’s supplied with, then held it out to her. “Now, you eat it.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “I’m on duty.”

  Erik looked at the diners on either side of him. “Anyone here mind if Isabella takes a few minutes to wolf down a roll?”

  She could feel her cheeks heating as a chorus of “No” and “Go for it” followed. She glared at Erik. “That is not the point.”