She wished Hester was sitting here in her kitchen, chatting and cooking. She’d never seemed intimidated by anything. Renee vividly remembered the afternoon she and Myles ran into Hester at the clothing shop that predated Stripe. It was called “Femme” or something insufferably pretentious, particularly for Cranberry Cove.

“Lordy, have you seen the prices here?” Hester had held up a pretty sunhat, glaring at its tag. She dramatically whipped out her readers. “Thirty-five bucks for this. Why, I could make you one of these with the straw from my brother’s barn for an eighth of the cost.”

Myles had whistled in approval, and Renee, a timid twenty-something suddenly felt not so different from this beloved town fixture.

“That hat is imported from Bali,” the boutique’s owner had said with a sneer.

“Could have fooled me.” Renee recalled the smile that tugged at Hester’s lips. “Looks like old Maine hay to this New England gal.”

I realized something today—all I need in life is my family and my baking. I am a happy woman.

By the time Renee pulled the final creation—pecan tassies—from the oven, she had half a dozen desserts crowding her kitchen counters, a slight stomachache, and a more positive mind-set.

She’d gotten by just fine without a man all these years, she reminded herself. She certainly didn’t need one now.

But what if she was sick of simple?

What if it was time to put herself out there—finally—and brave a few complications?

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Sadie woke up to a nearly forgotten sensation: her husband’s big hand sliding up her inner thigh and his hot mouth nibbling her earlobe.

She shivered as tiny goose bumps broke out down the backs of her arms. “Well, good morning to you, hot stuff.” She cracked her eyes open and smiled lazily. She’d passed out before Ethan had finally returned from Boston last night. She’d tried her hardest to stay up and share the distressing news about the pregnancy, but all that fear had knocked her out. “What time did you get home?”

“Mmm…ten?” He began to gently trace her nipples with the tip of his tongue, always so deliciously sensitive during pregnancy.

Her eyes rolled back in her head. Okay, now that felt good.

Ethan hadn’t initiated early-morning sex in ages. Even though she woke up early by anyone’s standards, for the past few months, her first sight every morning was Ethan’s empty side of the bed. He logged on to his computer as early as five forty-five some mornings, and on other days, drove to Boston even earlier than that.

“Happy anniversary.” Ethan working his way back up to pay a visit to the hollow of her neck. “Three years ago today, I finally worked up the courage to ask the hot designer out on a date.”