Page 2 of One More Kiss

“Where’s Jenna?” I asked.

Cam’s step faltered a little. Something I hadn’t seen him do in ages. Oh, I knew the wound in his calf ached fiercely—and likely would forever—but he didn’t let that mar his stride. Not this man. No, my boy was a force of nature. A rock star in every aspect of his life, not just as a musician. Though he wrote and sang beautiful tunes, and I especially liked the ones he sang with my daughter-in-law, Regan.

“She’s still in bed.”

I sighed. Jenna had suffered a miscarriage a week earlier, while Cam was performing in Nashville. I’d been the one to hold her as she sobbed out her fear, pain, and grief, Cam’s soothing words tinny through the phone’s speaker up until he swept her from my arms and into his.

“I’m worried about her,” I said, my frown mirroring his.

He pulled out a Werther’s and popped it in his mouth. “Yeah. Me, too. She doesn’t even want to go to the shop.”

He looked lost, squinting toward the horizon. Jenna, a talented guitar maker, had always found solace in her work.

“How bad is it?” I asked, my voice quiet.

His gaze flashed toward mine, worry simmering there. “Bad.” He ran his hand along the back of his neck, his mouth contorting with grief. “And it’s my fault. Cash here was so easy, I thought the doctors were wrong, we’d manage another pregnancy.” He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have asked it of her, Mama.”

I hugged him harder, offering him support. Because sometimes we had to get through. There was no other way to manage.

“Pie! Pie! Appa pie!” Cash shouted arms and legs flailing.

“It’s a-comin’, my boy. Along with some cocoa, I think.”

Cash squealed and wriggled so much I let go of Cam to wrap both arms around the feisty little boy’s body. He was beautiful, with Cam’s dark hair and Jenna’s pale eyes. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks like pepper spilled on porcelain.

“What’s wrong with your hand?” Cam asked. “I saw you holding it.”

We’d walked back along the edge of the large ranch that had been in the Grace family for generations. The first grave markers in the cemetery dated back to the initial settlers who’d been among the earliest Texas citizens. The walk was only about a mile but seemed longer when holding a squirming young body.

“Just a little cut,” I said. “Nothing to worry about.”

He took Cash from my arms as we ascended the porch steps that led to what we still called the Big House, though Cam’s home was now larger. This white clapboarded-side two-story had been built right after the Civil War, making it one of the older homes not just in the area but the state. Cam had mentioned getting it put on the historical registry, but I didn’t have any interest in the old. My fifty-four years on the planet had taught me the beauty of letting go of the past and looking toward the future.

Myfuture was filled with my children and grandbabies. Just because sometimes I was lonely in the hullabaloo, sometimes I wished for an arm around my shoulders, didn’t matter. I’d buried the love of my life and the worst mistake of my life. No way I was getting involved with another man.

“I found some of Steve’s peppermint hot chocolate in the back of the pantry. I thought about bringing Jenna some later,” I said.

At the mention of his name, a curl of heat swirled through my midsection. Steve was Nash Porter’s biological father. He was a few years younger than me, fit as the day he left basic training as a young man, and had an All-American smile that made me sizzle. I clearly had a type, which was a military man with plenty of muscle and integrity. But Steve wasn’t like my Jensen…nor was he like Laurence. He was a pain in the ass who’d made my life more difficult since returning from Nash and Aya’s wedding.

Cam, for all his money and fame, chose to live on the ranch with me. He and Jenna had added on to his original cottage, creating a stately and cozy home, neither one interested in prestige and size—unlike Carter, who had a massive mansion in the Bay Area and another on Lake Austin, about forty-five minutes from here.

My lovely daughter Kate and her husband Rye split that distance, living about twenty minutes away in a cute bungalow they’d bought last year after welcoming their two adopted sweet peas into their family.

My blessings grew because I counted Cam’s protegee, Nash, and his wife, Aya, as part of my brood, along with their little guy, Levi, was closing in on a year old. Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow was going to be a raucous affair—just how I loved them.

I frowned. Well, I would if I could get Steve to stop joining me in the kitchen. That handsome devil of a man was all about health over taste, and my Southern heart and constitution had put up with plenty of lip from him over the past couple of years.

Didn’t hurt that his attentiveness, the way he carried himself with pride and purpose drew me like a fly to honey. Bless his rigid, health-nut heart.

* * *

Once I hadCam and Cash settled, I made Jenna a big mug of Steve’s cocoa, then one for myself, unable to resist the alluring scent. Damn the man, his peppermint chocolate was addictive because it was so delicious. Worse yet, he wouldn’t share his recipe.

Perhaps I needed to add Steve to my asshole list.

I kissed Cash’s temple and squeezed Cam’s shoulder before grabbing the travel mugs. While Cam and Jenna’s house wasn’t far, the half-mile walk in chilly weather wouldn’t keep the cocoa hot.

I knocked before entering, unsurprised to find the place quiet. “Jenna?” I called out.

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