“But the biggest reason I didn’t bring it up,” Delaney said, looking a little sheepish, “is because from the first day you met him, I saw the spark between you two. And because I know you’ve got a heart the size of Asia. And because I knew you’d do what you’re doing right now.”
“And what’s that?”
“Discounting the fact that he was convicted of a crime because he did it for what he thought was the right reason.”
Avery propped her elbow on the desk and leaned her forehead into her hand, glad she was so tired. If she weren’t this would have started a fight. “And that would be bad because . . .”
“It’s a little hard to adequately put into words.” Delaney took a deep breath and released it in a measured stream. She thought for a moment before speaking. “Regardless of the reason Trace did what he did, regardless of the circumstances under which he did it, the bottom line is he ended up in prison. He spent three years in a maximum-security prison. For three years, one thousand days, twenty-four hours a day, Trace lived, ate, drank, slept, and breathed with real criminals. Men who murdered, raped, stole, conned, cheated, lied, and otherwise broke heavy-duty laws to get in there. Chip ran with guys like that. Hell, I’ve dated guys like that. And when I told you that Trace has scars, I meant that there is no way Trace could have lived through that and come out the same harmless kid who went in.”
Delaney heaved a breath, sat back, and leaned her temple against her fist. “I trust Trace with the business, with the building, with your opening date. But do I trust Trace with my baby sister?” She made an I’m-not-so-sure face. “Do I trust Trace with my baby sister who loves all creatures great and small, and who just got out of a shitty marriage and deserves the world?” She made another face, this one pained. “I would love to say yes, because I recognize the look in your eye when you’re with him. But . . . I can’t. I’m sorry, Avery. Your safety comes first for me.”
Avery’s head came up, and she gave her sister a disbelieving, “My safety?”
“You know what I mean. The safety of your heart. The safety of your future. The safety of the life you’re trying to build here. This incident with MaryAnn is the very problem that will forever plague Trace, the same way my past will, in some ways, forever plague me.” Delaney squeezed Avery’s hand and blew her own struggles off with, “I’ve tarnished the Hart name enough for three generations. I’d like you to have a life that’s bright and shiny.”
Avery laughed softly, torn between appreciation for Delaney’s love and frustration over . . . over what? Over the fact that Trace wasn’t all he should be for Avery to risk her heart?
Her phone chimed, and Avery closed her eyes with a groan. “Oh my God, if this is bad news, I seriously think I might go postal.”
Delaney offered her hand, palm up. “Let me look.”
Avery handed the phone over to her sister and covered her face. “If it’s bad, I don’t want to know.”
“Mmm, doesn’t sound bad.”
Avery took a cautious peek from beneath her lashes.
“Sounds like Trace has a surprise waiting back at the café.”
“Really?” Avery’s load instantly lightened. “Does it say what? Dare I hope it’s a finished roof?”
Delaney handed the phone back with a smirk. “Telling what the surprise is generally ruins said surprise. And he’s a man. I doubt his surprise has anything to do with a roof.”
Avery took the phone and tried not to seem like her whole day had turned around with one text from Trace, but . . . “If it’s not a roof, I hope it’s a clone of me. Or maybe five. One for baking. One for marketing. One for business. One for recipe development.”
“One for sex,” Delaney added in a smart-ass I-know-you’re-going-to-do-it-even-though-I-told-you-not-to tone.
Avery stood and matched Delaney’s playful smirk with an extra dose of attitude. “Oh, hell no. No freaking clone is going to take the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Delaney rolled her eyes. “So much for one night.”
Laughing, Avery hugged her sister. “Thank you. And I do hear you. I just . . .” She pulled back and met Delaney’s eyes.
Delaney shook her head and stroked a hand down Avery’s hair. “You don’t have to explain. I’ve got my own ‘I just’ right out there.” She hooked her thumb toward the door.
As soon as Trace caught sight of Avery’s Jeep on the road below, he shut down his floodlights, tossed his supplies into a secured box, slid his hammer into his tool belt, and hurried to secure the tarp over the small portion of the unfinished roof.
By the time he reached the ground, Avery was pushing her car door open, and Trace stood near the porch with the grin of an idiot and the anticipation of a five-year-old at Christmas. Only his anticipation was all for Avery.
“Hey,” he called to her as she collected some bags from the backseat.
“Hey. How’s the roof coming?”
She didn’t sound right. He wasn’t sure why, just sure that extra little spark of Avery was missing. But the days were growing shorter and shorter, and it was already dark, so he couldn’t read her face as she started toward him.
“Good. Almost done. Need another hour at the most.”
“That’s great news.” Instead of stopping a couple of feet away to talk, she walked right into his arms, pressed her face to his chest and sighed. “God I needed this.”