Brambleberry House: His Second-Chance Family. RaeAnne Thayne

Will pulled out his wallet.

      “My treat,” he said, sliding a bill to Lacy.

      She reached for it at the same time Julia did.

      “It is not!” Julia exclaimed. “You weren’t even planning to come along until we hounded you into it. Forget it, I’m paying.”

      Even more speculative glances were shooting their way. He could see a couple of his mother’s friends inside and was afraid they would be on the phone to her at her retirement village in San Diego before Lacy even scooped their cones.

      Above all, he wanted to avoid attention and just win this battle so they could find a place to sit, preferably one out of view of everyone inside.

      “Nobody hounded anybody. I wanted to come.” For one brief second of insanity, he thought, but didn’t add. “I’m paying this time. You can pick it up next time.”

      The minute the words escaped his mouth, he saw Lacy’s eyes widen. Next time, he had said. Rats. He could just picture the conversation that would be buzzing around town within minutes.

      You hear about Will Garrett? He’s finally dating again, the new teacher living in Abigail’s house. The pretty widow with those twins. Remember, her family used to rent the old Turner place every summer.

      He grimaced to himself, knowing there wasn’t a darn thing he could do about it. When a person lived in the same town his whole life, everybody seemed to think they had a stake in his business.

      “Are you sure?” Julia still looked obstinate.

      He nodded. “Take it, Lace,” he said.

      To his vast relief, she ended the matter by stuffing the bill into the cash register and handing him his change.

      “It should just be a minute,” she said in a chirpy kind of voice. She disappeared from the counter, probably to go looking for her cell phone so she could start spreading the word.

      “Thank you,” Julia said, though she still looked uncomfortable about letting him treat.

      “No problem.”

      “It really doesn’t seem fair. You didn’t even want to come with us.”

      “I’m here, aren’t I? It’s fine.”

      She looked as if she had something more to say but after a moment she closed her mouth and let the matter rest when Lacy returned with the twins’ cones.

      “Here you go. The other two are coming right up.”

      “Great service as always, Lacy,” he said when she handed him and Julia their cones. “Thanks.”

      “Oh, no problem, Will.” She smiled brightly. “And let me just say for the record that it’s so great to see you out enjoying...ice cream again.”

      Heat soaked his face and he could only hope he wasn’t blushing. He hadn’t blushed in about two decades and he sure as hell didn’t want to start now.

      “Right,” he mumbled, and was relieved when Simon spoke up.

      “Hey, Mom, our favorite table is empty. Can we sit out there and watch for whales?”

      Julia smiled and shook her head ruefully. “We’ve been here twice and sat at the same picnic table both times. I guess that makes it our favorite.”

      She studied Will. “Are you in a hurry to get back or do you mind eating our cones here?”

      He would rather just take a dip in the cold waters of the Pacific right about now, if only to avoid the watching eyes of everyone in town. Instead, he forced a smile.

      “No big rush. Let’s sit down.”

      He made the mistake of glancing inside the ice-cream parlor one time as he was sliding into the picnic table across from her—just long enough to see several heads swivel quickly away from him.

      With a sigh, he resigned himself to the rumors. Nothing he could do about them now anyway.

      * * *

      SHE WAS QUITE certain Conan was a canine but just now he was looking remarkably like the proverbial cat with its mouth stuffed full of canary feathers.

      Julia frowned at the dog, who settled beside the picnic table with what looked suspiciously like a grin. Sage and Anna said he had an uncanny intelligence and some hidden agenda but she still wasn’t sure she completely bought it.

      More likely, he was simply anticipating a furtive taste of one of the twins’ cones.

      If Conan practically hummed with satisfaction, Will resembled the plucked canary. He ate his cone with a stoicism that made it obvious he wasn’t enjoying the treat—or the company—in the slightest.

      She might have been hurt if she didn’t find it so terribly sad.

      She grieved for him, for the boy she had known with the teasing smile and the big, generous heart. His loss was staggering, as huge as the Pacific, and she wanted so desperately to ease it for him.

      What power did she have, though? Precious little, especially when he would only talk in surface generalities about mundane topics like the tide schedule and the weather.

      She tried to probe about the project he was working on, an intriguing rehabilitation effort down the coast, but he seemed to turn every question back to her and she was tired of talking about herself.

      She was also tired of the curious eyes inside. Good heavens, couldn’t the poor man go out for ice cream without inciting a tsunami of attention? If he wasn’t being so unapproachable, she would have loved to give their tongues something to wag about.

      How would Will react if she just grabbed the cone out of his hand, tossed it over her shoulder into the sand, and planted a big smacking kiss on his mouth, just for the sheer wicked thrill of watching how aghast their audience might turn?

      It was an impulse from her youth, when she had been full of silly dreams and impetuous behavior. She wouldn’t do it now, of course. Not only would a kiss horrify Will but her children were sitting at the table and they wouldn’t understand the subtleties of social tit-for-tat.

      The idea was tempting, though. And not just to give the gossips something to talk about.

      She sighed. It would be best all the way around if she just put those kind of thoughts right out of her head. She had been alone for two years and though she might have longed for a man’s touch, she wasn’t about to jump into anything with someone still deep in the grieving process.

      “What project are you working on next at Brambleberry House?” she asked him.

      “New ceiling and floor moldings in Abigail’s old apartment, where Anna lives now,” he answered. “On the project I’m working on in Manzanita, the developer ordered some custom patterns. I liked them and showed them to Anna and she thought they would be perfect for Brambleberry House so we ordered extra.”

      “What was wrong with the old ones?”

      “They were cracking and warped in places from water damage a long time ago. We tried to repair them but it was becoming an endless process. And then when she decided to take down a few walls, the moldings in the different rooms didn’t match so we decided to replace them all with something historically accurate.”

      He started to add more, but Maddie slid over to him and held out her cone.

      “Mr. Garrett, would you like to try some of my strawberry cheesecake ice cream? It’s really good.”

      A slight edge of panic appeared around the edges of his gaze. “Uh, no thanks. Think I’ll stick with my vanilla.”

      She accepted his answer with equanimity. “You might change your mind, though,” she said, with her innate generosity. “How about if I eat it super slow? That way if decide you want some after all, I’ll still have some left for you to try later, okay?”

      He