Page 143 of Finding His Redemption

She could picture it so clearly now: warm pendant lights hanging low over the counter, their Edison bulbs casting a golden glow across the display case. The walls, once a depressing, dirty beige, were now painted a soft, buttery cream that made the whole space feel brighter, cozier, like stepping into a warm hug. Chalkboard menus—still waiting for their first scrawl of daily specials—hung above the prep counter. In the corner by the front window sat the skeleton of what would be a cushioned bench seat, offering her customers a quiet nook for reading or sipping coffee. She imagined Levi Wiley would spend a lot of time there working on his book. And the table directly in front of the window was perfect for Margery and Ruthie’s dailygossip sessions. She planned to frame the window with billowy white curtains and a hanging plant that trailed lazy vines.

Everything here had been touched by someone who cared. Jax’s steady hands were in the wood grain. Anson’s eye for level lines and neat finishes showed in the trim. The townspeople had chipped in where they could, refinishing furniture, donating dishes, even painting the little mural Oliver had dreamed up in the kids’ corner: a golden dragon curled around a cupcake.

River and X were working to hang floating reclaimed wood shelves on the wall behind the counter, which she planned to fill with rows of mason jars, vintage tins, and labeled glass canisters filled with sugar, flour, and chocolate chips.

River, as usual, looked like chaos incarnate, his curls held back with a paint-splattered bandana, his face alight with mischief while he stood on a ladder, holding a bracket in place so X could anchor it. Meanwhile, X maintained his effortless composure despite the physical labor, looking more like he belonged on a magazine cover than in a construction zone.

“How’d it go with the ice queen yesterday?” River teased. “Did Mariah finally agree to defrost long enough for a date?”

X’s easy smile didn’t falter. “Some women require finesse,hermano.”

“Says the man who’s been shot down four times this month.”

“Three,” X corrected smoothly. “The fourth time, she said ‘bless your heart,’ which is technically not a no.”

“No, that’s Southern lady for ’fuck off.’ You grew up in Atlanta. You should know that, Cartier Cowboy.”

Nessie shook her head, smiling despite herself. Those two were exhausting separately; together, they were a force of nature.

On the other side of the room, Bear knelt on the exposed subfloor, his massive frame making the space around him seem smaller. Despite his size, his movements were delicate ashe fitted a new floorboard into place, checking the level with painstaking attention. He worked in complete silence, his focus absolute.

Over in the mechanical closet, Ghost rewired the electric panel to work for all of her shiny new appliances, including the industrial espresso machine Jax had bought for her.

The screech of the table saw had her glancing at Anson in the back room, where he worked methodically on the cabinets for the new display case, measuring twice and cutting once. He caught her watching and nodded at her, a slight acknowledgment that managed to convey both respect and distance. Of all the Valor Ridge men, Anson was the hardest to read—even harder than Ghost—but she’d come to appreciate his silent competence.

She’d learned these three men spoke through their actions, not words. The careful restoration of her bakery said more than any reassurance could.

Her gaze shifted to the center of the room, where Jonah had returned to the project he and Oliver were working on, sanding down a salvaged tabletop.

“Remember, always with the grain,” Jonah was saying, guiding Oliver’s hand. “Feel that resistance? That means you’re going against it.”

“Like when you brush a dog the wrong way?” Oliver asked, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Exactly like that. Wood’s got a direction to it, just like everything in nature.”

“Does Echo like being brushed the wrong way? Jax says she doesn’t, but she doesn’t bite or anything.”

“That’s because she trusts you, but it probably doesn’t feel good, even if she puts up with it. So maybe don’t do that to her, huh?”

Oliver nodded thoughtfully, absorbing this new bit of wisdom. He was so fascinated with these men, in ways that made her heart squeeze—with gratitude, with worry, with a dozen emotions she couldn’t untangle.

After the second fire, she’d been certain this was the end. Two fires in a month had nearly bankrupted her. The insurance company was dragging its feet, citing “suspicious circumstances,” and she’d started looking at job postings, worried her dream bakery was officially dead.

But Jax had refused to let her dream die without a fight. He’d done most of the demolition himself after putting in long days on the ranch.

“Mom!” Oliver called. “Look how smooth it is!” He pointed to the small section of the tabletop he’d been sanding, his face beaming with pride. “Jonah says I’m a natural.”

“That’s wonderful, baby.” Her voice caught on the endearment. He’d stopped objecting to being called “baby” lately, another small miracle in a season of them.

The back door swung open, and Jax appeared, carrying in the last of the shelves that would be mounted on the back wall. He looked tired but satisfied, the way he always did after a hard day’s work. The bandage from the knife wound Dewey gave him was finally gone, after he popped open the stitches so often that Bear threatened him with duct tape and super glue. Now there was a fresh pink scar that would eventually fade to white like all the others.

He caught her looking and smiled, that slow, gentle smile that still made her stomach flutter. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, warmth blooming in her chest. “Just... happy.”

He set down the shelves and crossed to her, leaning in to kiss her. “Good. That’s all I want.”

His shirt was damp with sweat, his skin warm and smelling of sawdust and something uniquely him. She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and breathe him in. But if she did that, she’d want to climb him like a tree and let him whisper all those dirty things in her ear that made her melt.

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