Nate and Emily had fallen in love doing the renovations of this place, Brooke thought wistfully.
The bell brought Emily bustling in from the kitchen. She gave a wide grin and a wave, and Brooke chuckled at the flour-dusted apron she wore, with the logo, ASK US WHY WE’RE SUGAR AND SPICE. The first time she saw her grandma wearing it, she’d almost busted a gut laughing.
“Brooke!” Emily called in delight, drying her hands on a towel. She tossed it onto the back of a chair. “You need something in particular?”
She smiled, trying to settle her own tension. “I need a hit of sugar. A glazed donut should do the trick.”
Emily laughed and went behind the counter to fetch one, and when she returned, she set a mug of hot chocolate down in front of Brooke, too. “There you go. Chocolate and donuts—we all need it sometimes.”
Brooke sipped the drink slowly, then took a bite of the donut and closed her eyes. “Heaven.”
The bell over the door jingled, and Monica entered, shaking the snow off her coat and tossing it over a chair.
“I saw your dad’s pickup,” Monica said. “Mrs. Wilcox has everything under control next door, so here I am.” She bumped shoulders good-naturedly with Brooke as she sat down. “Ooh, a donut looks good.”
Emily happily obliged.
“I noticed your truck running,” Monica said. “You in a hurry?”
Brooke shook her head. “Keeping it warm for Adam.”
Emily came back at that moment, and her gaze shot toward the door. “He’s out there?”
“Yep,” Brooke said, then took another bite of the donut. “He’s come back far more unsociable than he used to be.”
“Brooke!” Emily scolded, and marched to the door, flinging it open and gesturing for Adam to come in.
“What did I do?” Brooke asked Monica, feigning astonishment.
Adam ambled inside, the keys jingling in his hand as he took off his cowboy hat. He inhaled the delicious scents just as Brooke had done, then stood there, all decked out in cowboy-masculine in the middle of the feminine bakery.
“I was going to bring you a donut,” Brooke reminded him.
“I know.” He gave Emily a small smile. “But I really enjoy your brownies.”
She laughed aloud, held up a finger, and disappeared behind the counter.
“Adam Desantis,” Monica breathed quietly, then shook her head as if in disbelief as she eyed him up and down.
To Brooke’s surprise, she felt a little uneasy as Monica ogled the all-grown-up man.
Adam glanced at their table, and then his smile grew wider. “Monica Shaw.”
“You look fine, Adam,” she said, standing up.
“You do, too.”
Brooke couldn’t read his expression though he did look a bit surprised when Monica kissed him on the cheek. He sat down at their table, and when Emily returned with his brownie and more hot chocolate, Monica tsked.
“I can’t believe you were going to sit out in that truck and not say hi.”
Brooke eyed him, curious at his response. She hadn’t asked him to come in, of course, and she felt a bit guilty.
He swallowed a piece of brownie even as he shrugged. “It’s strange to live here again after all this time. I visited my grandma a couple times, and flew her to visit me, but being here every day . . . not sure what to expect anymore.”
“You have friends, you know,” Monica said.
He arched a brow. “Really? I don’t need to look in on some of those guys I used to know.”
“You changed for the better, why not them?”
“True.”
“So you’re a better man?” Brooke found herself joining in the teasing. “Still sounds pretty arrogant. Remember when you thought you could win the senior class presidency without a campaign?”
He glanced at her, his chocolate brown eyes warm with amusement. “I overestimated my appeal. Though I’ve always hoped I’ve changed for the better, I had a far longer way to go. Not saying I’m all that great even now.”
“Humble,” Monica mused slyly. “That’s different.”
He took another bite of his brownie. “I saw you come from next door, then I looked at the name. Congratulations on having your own business.”
Monica grinned. “Thanks. It was a dream come true. How about you? What are you up to, now that you’re a free man?”
He explained about being a longshoreman in Louisiana.
“Why didn’t you stay in the Marines?” Monica continued. “Your grandma bragged all over town about your quick promotions.”
He took a sip of hot chocolate so slowly that Brooke knew he was formulating a response. He hadn’t really answered when she’d asked this same question a few days ago. And then it occurred to her that maybe he wasn’t gallivanting about town because he didn’t want to answer this. She couldn’t imagine how a soldier began to talk about the horrible things he’d seen in war. And why should he tell them? They all might as well be strangers, for how little they’d kept up over ten years.