Alexa Walker contemplated the ramifications of jumping out of a moving vehicle as she listened to the words coming from her sister’s mouth. They were all things she’d heard before, words to the wise and helpful tidbits of information, but how many times could one person hear about the merits of chia seeds in one car ride before they truly just made a break for it?

Relief filled her as she watched Boston Beans, a trendy coffee shop in downtown Boston, that had bestowed upon her the awesome gig of bringing in baked goods every Thursday and Friday, come into view. For just one moment, she’d get respite from her sister Beth’s “helpful” advice until their return trip to Freehope.

Amazingly enough, her business was starting to pick up steam and she even had her own hashtag, #BadGirlofSweets. Though her company name was Sweet Sisters, she liked the moniker Bad Girl of Sweets. Her sixteen-year-old niece Jenna had come up with it and the girl tracked it religiously. She’d gained quite a social media following with it and sometimes, when she showed up for her morning deliveries, there was a line out the door, waiting for her.

She’d been struggling to get her business off the ground for years so the success felt great, satisfying in a way that nothing else in her life had been so far.

Problem was, her little sister, Beth, was dogging her heels at every turn and driving her crazy. Every week she insisted on chauffeuring Alex into the city just to make sure she was okay.

That was the price she was paying for being a selfless older sister.

If she could have, she would have jumped out of the moving vehicle as it pulled up to the curb, but her baskets of goodies were in the trunk, and she wasn’t a freakin’ daredevil, so she waited impatiently.

Street parking was bumper to bumper up the whole block, leaving Beth no option but to double park while Alex worked to get her things out quickly.

“I’ll find a spot and meet you inside,” Beth offered. “Then I can help you fix up your display.”

“No need.” Alex waved her off. “I’ve got it. Just text me where you park and I’ll find you when I finish. Shouldn’t take long.”

Alex slid out of the car and went around back, popped the trunk, and grabbed her baskets. When she banged the trunk shut Beth leaned out the window.

“Decaf!” she yelled before peeling away to look for a parking spot.

“Decaf,” Alex mouthed sulkily at the back of the car, tempted to flip it the bird before making her way inside.

She shouldered her way through the door, thankful when someone held it open for her.

“Oh, thank God!” the woman breathed. “I was worried I was going to get here too late to get a sticky bun!”

The pride she felt at the woman’s words should have been embarrassing, but Alex refused to let that kind of negativity in. She worked hard. She was proud and there was no shame in her game. She was so damn proud she probably preened.

“I made a ton,” she told the woman with a smile, stepping inside. “You should have plenty to choose from.”

“You’re a goddess,” the stranger said with a humorous bow.

Alex hurried to the counter, ignoring the line, and caught the attention of the barista Heather, who sent her a happy smile.

“I want half-caff,” Alex told her solemnly. “No matter what other words come out of my mouth, you pour me half-caff.”

Heather’s smile faltered as she looked between Alex and the big plate-glass window. Looking for Beth, no doubt. They played this scene out every week, twice a week.

“But…” the girl stuttered.

“Half-caff,” Alex said firmly, drawing her gaze, sending her the meanest mug she could muster. “No matter what.”

Having made her point, Alex began setting out her treats in the display case. Sticky buns and cinnamon rolls, croissants and lemon squares, classic cream puffs and eclairs. She didn’t know why she went through so much trouble. She knew within minutes the vultures behind her would pick through and make a mess of things.

Well, she did know why. She grabbed her phone and snapped a picture of the display case and posted it to her social media with the hashtags Jenna had instructed her to use.

Then she took a step back and watched as people—real, actual customers, bought her food. It was everything she’d ever wanted.

Well, she wanted her own shop, but this was a huge first step in getting her name out there.

Next step, getting her own shop.

Baby steps—she mentally shrugged. Just a few years ago she’d been doing no more than toiling away in her own kitchen and teaching classes at the culinary school she went to.

She’d just stepped up to the counter and was about to tell them what she wanted when her sister blew in, a tiny red-headed hurricane.

“Decaf!” she shouted, her arm outstretched like she was about to stop a speeding train with nothing but her hand.

Alex rolled her eyes and shot the barista a look, mouthing half-caff.

“Decaf,” Beth insisted again as she made it to her sister’s side.

“Decaf, toffee-caramel swirl, nonfat latte,” she told the barista, hoping like hell the girl listened to her and tossed a little caffeine in there.

Beth was being a lunatic. People, especially exhausted people, needed some caffeine in their lives. It was their lifeblood. It was Alex’s lifeblood and if she didn’t get some soon, her sister might die a slow, painful death at Alex’s hands.

Though, then she’d have to explain herself to Logan, Beth’s husband, and that would be like walking in front of a firing squad. Just a year before, she and Beth had been involved in what Alex liked to call a small, sisterly kerfuffle. Beth had ended up with a split lip and Logan had looked positively murderous.

In her defense, Beth had come at her and Alex herself had walked away with a gash on her forehead that left a damn scar.

Logan hadn’t cared and it was probably the angriest she’d ever seen the laid-back Southern boy who stole her sister’s heart. Alex wasn’t in any hurry to replay that little scenario, so strangling her sister wasn’t an option.

“A little caffeine isn’t going to kill anyone,” she argued for the thousandth time. “I read somewhere that it can be healthy.”

Beth scowled. “For you, maybe. You promised me you’d behave. You promised you’d make this easy for me. Instead, you fight me at every turn.” She snapped her head to the barista who was about to use regular coffee. “Decaf!”

Alex rolled her eyes. Okay, so she’d said that, but she hadn’t known Beth was going to turn into a raving lunatic the minute her and Logan’s baby was implanted into Alex’s uterus.

Now she had a bean growing inside of her, and Beth had turned the corner from protective and into stark raving with one word from the doctors. Alex wondered if she knew ahead of time that this was how things would shake out—Beth taking the bus into crazy town, she’d have still gone ahead with carrying her sister’s baby.

She had offered and while she was getting up there in years, she didn’t see herself settling down anytime soon. Not that she had any prospects. Her hometown of Freehope wasn’t exactly a hotbed of dating activity, the men there all people she grew up with.

She was happy though. She had her sisters and her brother, her father and Jenna. They made a good team. If she didn’t find someone for herself, she’d be fine. She’d just be the old spinster aunt that Jenna and Beth’s bean came to for money when her own parents wouldn’t fork it over.

Beth was still scowling at her.

“Fine,” Alex conceded with an eye roll. “I’ll behave.”

The barista handed over her coffee, and Alex grabbed a little paper holder, slipping the cup inside.

“Why don’t I grab the car and swing back around and come get you? I had to park a few blocks away.”

Moodily sipping her stupid latte, Alex shrugged one shoulder. “Sure.”

Beth took a few steps and then turned around, concern written all over her face, making Alex feel like a total shit.

“You know I just worry, right? This might be our only shot.” Her hands were balled into fists at her side and her eyebrows were pulled down.

Alex disagreed that it was their only shot, but Beth, despite taking Alex up on her offer of carrying a child for her and Logan, felt guilty. Like she was taking up too much of Alex’s time.

“Stop worrying,” Alex told her confidently. “I’ve got this.”

Beth turned on her heel without another word and stalked out of the coffee shop. Alex watched the spot where she’d stood for a minute, contemplating.

She’d essentially given up more than a year of her life for Beth and Logan, so they could have a child. She’d been poked and prodded, drugged up with hormones, and had her entire life turned upside down. Most days, she focused on the end result of what she was doing—the goal.

It was easy to live day in and day out worrying about herself. But now she held Logan and Beth’s future in her hands and when she stopped to think about it, the weight of that responsibility was far heavier than anything she’d ever carried before.

“Half-caff- toffee-caramel swirl, nonfat latte?”

A cup appeared in front of her and Alex looked up, startled. A man, a god, stood there, paper cup in hand, smiling at her.

Without thought, she took it.

Boston Beans was his place. It was where he went to get away from his regular life when he didn’t want to be seen or answer to anyone. There was a coffee shop way closer to his house, but he’d stopped going there in favor of The Bean. The coffee was better, the people were friendlier, and the food was out-of-this-world fantastic.

A few months ago, they’d started bringing pastries in from outside vendors and God, those things were his weekly treat. Pride kept him from perpetuating the hashtag #BadGirlofSweets. He didn’t need everyone knowing his guilty pleasure, but he liked the company name, Sweet Sisters.

He’d come in earlier than his usual, hoping to get his Thursday sticky-bun fix before getting stuck in the office all day. He had a hell of a schedule on the books and he wasn’t sure he’d get through it without the sweet treat.

He’d been early enough to see the beautiful woman rush in, basket in her arms and a winning smile on her face. She was a whirlwind of long, black hair and the kind of energy not many people possessed. She attracted attention, even in a casual nondescript dress and slip-on shoes. Her eyes were a bright blue that flushed with pleasure when a passerby complimented her pastries.

Dylan James knew what he wanted when he saw it, and he wanted the Bad Girl from Sweet Sisters.

She breezed in, cutting in front of everyone already in line, barking at the barista to make sure her coffee was half-caffeinated, no matter what she said. It was a strange request and Dylan found himself cracking a smile at the brisk seriousness in her deep voice. Like this coffee was her life and death.

She didn’t pay him, or anyone else for that matter, any attention as she set to work putting her pastries on display. She had a ton in her basket, just unloading more and more and making sure they looked perfect.

She stood back a few times, either admiring or criticizing her work, he wasn’t sure. But she looked with a keen eye, adjusting a few things here and there, then snapped a picture with her phone. He watched, hands in pockets, as she grabbed the barista’s attention and opened her mouth to speak. Just then a small redheaded woman, that looked like a charging bull, came into the shop, the look on her face nothing but determination.

“Decaf!” she shouted.

Dylan’s eyebrows raised, caught off-guard by the ridiculousness of the statement. He watched their heated exchange, wondering what exactly was going on.

Was the redhead the wife? Girlfriend?

He had a relatively accurate gaydar, but there was always room for error.

No, the way they fought wasn’t like that. There was no passion or real anger; it was all annoyance. The redhead gave off a definite nervous vibe.

Dylan knew people. He read people for a living. Made millions on reading people.

Definitely, not lovers.

He caught sight of the redhead’s face.

Sisters.

They had the same bright blue eyes, the same scowl on their faces, and he knew they were sisters.

They argued some more about the coffee, which was totally beyond him as to why, but he listened, unashamed. If they wanted to fight in public, it was up for public consumption as far as he was concerned.

At this point, anything that concerned the Bad Girl was his concern. She was fierce in her annoyance, her eyes snapping as she glared at her sister.

Eventually, the barista handed her a decaf latte, and the disappointment on her face nearly broke Dylan’s heart. She’d wanted that latte but she’d conceded to her sister for whatever reason. He was an only child himself but he knew love and he knew concession when he saw it.

She wasn’t happy about it but she’d do it. For her sister.

He stepped up to the counter and ordered, waiting and watching the sisters as they spoke in hushed tones. There was a definite tension between them, something that said they weren’t overly close or struggled with their relationship. But there was love; he could see it on both of them.

Interesting.

He grabbed the coffees handed to him just as the sister stalked out the door, the bells jingling happily after her.

Dylan stepped up, handing her a cup.

“Half-caff, toffee-caramel swirl, nonfat latte?” he asked, knowing that’s what she originally wanted.

She looked startled, like she wasn’t quite sure where he came from. In her defense, he’d been standing off to the side, staying out of her line of sight. He knew she hadn’t seen him.

She was magnificent, her pale skin delicately soft, freckling on her nose. Her blue eyes were a bright electric blue, looking at him like she had no idea what to say.

He liked it. He put on his most charming smile and pushed the drink farther into her hand, boldly taking the decaf one away.

“This was what you wanted, right?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Half-caff,” he pointed out.

“Thank the Lord,” she whispered, taking a long pull from the cup. It had to have been still steaming hot, but she persisted, her eyes sliding closed in pleasure.

Yeah, that was a surefire way to get hard in public. Watching a woman react so viscerally to something. Anything.

She eyed him as she took the cup from her full lips.

“Thank you. What do I owe you?”

“Chocolate croissants,” he answered.

She laughed in response and the depth of it sent a heated skitter down his spine. Her voice was low and rough, not a light lilt or melodic inflection. It was unexpected and he wanted to hear it again.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she said with another laugh, fulfilling his unspoken request.

“I come in every Thursday and Friday. You made chocolate croissants once, and I came back for more on Friday but they were gone. You haven’t made any since. I’ll take some as payment for the coffee.”

It was a start, he thought.

“Done. Next week?” she asked.

He nodded, pleased enough that he’d laid a foundation.

“I’ll be here,” he told her. “I’ll keep an eye out in case you need a coffee bailout too.”

She sent him a wink and took a step backwards. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Dylan watched as she hustled her sweet ass out the door and slid into the redhead’s car. They scowled at each other and he went with his gut, thinking they were probably sisters.

He tossed her wasted decaf, grabbed his own things, and headed for his downtown Boston office. He could have walked but it was later than he’d planned so instead he called an Uber, opting to get there quicker.

Dylan was a negotiator of sorts, working to figure out exactly what it was that people wanted versus what they needed, and helping them meet in the middle somewhere. It just happened that he negotiated for an investment firm, his investment firm, and negotiated millions and millions of dollars every single day.

He and his friends had started the firm a few years ago. They’d known each other forever—their entire lives to be exact, and working together was as natural to them as anything else. They’d grown up together, children of the high Boston social scene, featuring debutante balls and Sunday tea.

Lincoln Greene was their numbers guy. Dylan’s office was right next to Lincoln’s and they tended to have a lot of back and forth during a regular work day. Dylan negotiated the numbers Lincoln set forth and they kept a close eye on each other. Lincoln was quiet in a way that the rest of them weren’t. He was watchful and observant, somewhat closed off. Dylan also knew that Lincoln held a torch for a woman so far out of his reach that it wasn’t even in the same hemisphere. He hadn’t ever said anything about it but Dylan knew damn well Lincoln still loved her. Even if she was a one-woman wrecking ball and Brady’s sister.

Brady Charles was their resident playboy. He was the schmoozer who brought in new clients, day after day. He was absolutely ruthless in his pursuit of new money, but did it all under the guise of a charming boyish smile. Most clients never noticed that he’d steered them exactly where he’d wanted them, bringing their money into the firm. He made it seem like it was their idea all along and he was just along for the ride. He was a good guy who liked to play fast and loose with everything that he did, including women. He left a string of broken hearts across the city on any given day of the week.

It was a wonder there was anyone left for him to play with.

Grant Harrison was their contract guy. He knew finance law inside and out, his Harvard law degree in use at all times. He was the final word on everything they did. Every dime they took home was approved by Grant. Every client they signed, every employee they hired, every day off they took, all went through Grant.

“What the hell has you looking so impressed with yourself?” Lincoln asked curiously as Dylan strolled into the office that morning.

“I may or may not have bought a beautiful woman coffee this morning.”

Lincoln raised a brow. “And this beautiful woman? What’s her name?”

Dylan shrugged. “Not sure yet. I’ll get to that next week.”

Brady laughed as he strolled into Dylan’s office. “Going for the old slow play, huh?”

Dylan kept his face bland. Heaven forbid Brady think there was any kind of challenge to be had.

“I’m not going for any play,” he admitted to his friends. “Just testing the waters before I get in.”

“Been a while since you’ve been in the pool,” Brady pointed out, keeping the analogy going.

It had been a while since he’d dated anyone. The social scene in Boston was totally played out; his parents and his friend’s parents had their fingers in everything. Every date was a setup; every woman no more than a family name and connection. The whole thing reeked of old money and annoyed the hell out of all of them.

Most of the women felt the same, a lot of them dropping out of sight and bucking the old ways.

Dylan’s last girlfriend had been nice enough, someone he’d met through his parents. She’d been easy to lead around and show off, but she’d been boring as hell. She’d done nothing but agree with everything he said, smiling like she didn’t have an actual brain in her head.

He didn’t want a yes woman. He wanted someone who would go toe to toe with him when the stakes were high.

He wanted someone who knew what they wanted and knew how to fight for it.

He thought about his Bad Girl from the coffee shop and quirked a smile.

“She might be worth wading back in for,” he admitted tentatively.

“Who’s wading where?” Grant asked, blowing into Dylan’s office with a stack of papers under his arm. He looked to Dylan as he passed out folders to everyone.

“Dylan fell in love with a woman at the coffee shop and is wading back into the dating pool,” Brady said.

Dylan held up his hands. “I bought a woman a cup of coffee this morning,” he corrected. “She might be worth wading back in.”

Grant shot a look at Brady. “You’re an asshole.”

Brady shrugged. “I know.”

“Can we work now?” Grant asked. “Or do you all have some gossiping left to do?”

Alex smiled to herself as she kneaded the dough for her new monkey-bread muffins.

She didn’t know who he was but he’d certainly made an impression on her. Neat blond hair, dark brown eyes, and a tall, wide build, and she’d nearly melted into the floor in Boston Beans when he’d offered up her coffee.

Her coffee. She’d nearly swooned.

Instead, she’d put on her flirting cap and gone to work. He’d sent her plenty of signals, letting her know he was interested, so she’d done the same.

He said he’d be there when she dropped off the following week, and she was going to make him the best chocolate croissants she could muster. Hell, croissants were her specialty. She could make them in her sleep.

She’d already started on the ones she was making for him, deciding to make him his own basket instead of selling them to Boston Beans and making him buy one. She considered putting her business card in the basket but wanted to keep playing their game.

She imagined them not exchanging names, just meeting and flirting for weeks.

Seemed unrealistic as she didn’t have that kind of self-restraint, but it was a cute idea, nonetheless. They’d meet, flirt some, have coffee, then go their separate ways. For weeks, just meeting and getting to know each other a little, before finally exchanging names.

Alex shook her head at the silliness of it, kneading and kneading before covering the dough and setting it aside to let it rise.

Her niece Jenna was swinging by to visit, Wednesday afternoons the only time she had free. Now that she could drive, Jenna was in and out so much Alex barely saw her. The visits were precious and she was glad they still took the time.

Hell, in a few years she’d be off to college and everything would change then.

Secretly, she wasn’t sure how Andy would manage. Her twin sister had spent so long being Jenna’s mom every second, Alex wasn’t sure what she’d do when that role was gone day in and day out. As it was, she was struggling with not having to be there at every turn.

Owen was doing a good job distracting her, but Alex knew her sister was struggling.

“Auntie Alex?” Jenna’s voice floated in from the little living room of her house.

“In the kitchen!”

“Where else?” Jenna said on a laugh, striding into the room, every cell in her being radiating confidence.

And why wouldn’t it? The girl was a knockout. Owen would need eyes in the back of his head to keep up with her and the boys that were already beating down her door. She was taller, far taller than any of the other Walker women had made it. She got that from Owen. So far, she’d hit five feet, eight inches, towering over the rest of them.

Her hair and eyes matched her father’s, both a deep chestnut, but her face looked just like her mother and in turn, her Aunt Alex, as well. She’d gotten her braces off the year before, and in the blink of an eye went from an awkward preteen to a full-blown teenager.

She thought about the baby growing inside of her—Beth and Logan’s baby, that would soon be living and breathing on this earth. Someday, he or she would go through the same changes, and it would be just as mind-blowing, just as poignant.

“Alex?” Jenna asked. “You okay?”

Alex looked at her niece, startled that she’d gone off on such a tangent.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You’re crying,” Jenna pointed out. “Again.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said without heat. “It’s these stupid hormones.”

Jenna nodded sagely, as if she had any idea what it might be like. “How are you feeling? Mom said you were pretty sick.”

“They tell me that throwing up like Linda Blair is normal.”

“Who’s Linda Blair?” Jenna asked.

Annoyed, Alex sent her niece a droll look. “You haven’t seen The Exorcist yet?” Jenna shook her head. “What are your parents teaching you?”

Jenna smiled and headed to the sink to wash her hands. “What are we making?”

“Chocolate croissants.”

“Yum. I thought you said you weren’t making those anymore. Said the chocolate was crap and you refused to buy it.”

Yes, she had said that, and the chocolate was crap, in her opinion, but if the handsome devil that bought her coffee wanted them, then crap chocolate or not, he was going to get them.

“I did say that,” she conceded. “But someone asked me to make them and I said yes.”

“Who?”

It was an innocent enough question but Alex had kept her little coffee hunk a secret from her sisters, and she knew the minute she told Jenna, they’d all know.

“I won’t tell,” Jenna said, interrupting her train of thought. “I can keep a secret.”

Alex considered her niece, old enough now to understand what it meant to keep someone’s confidence. It wasn’t a life or death secret, just something she wasn’t ready to share yet. If Jenna did spill the beans, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, just annoying.

“I met a man the other day when I was dropping off at Boston Beans. He asked about the chocolate croissants and I told him I’d make him some.”

Jenna’s eyebrows popped up. “A man, huh? What’d he look like?”

“Like Thor and Captain America’s baby, dressed in a suit and holding my favorite coffee,” Alex answered right away, then went on a quick fishing expedition. “What’s your boyfriend look like?”

When her niece’s cheeks pinked, Alex knew she was onto something.

“I can keep a secret.” She threw Jenna’s words back at her.

Jenna looked around, like she was worried someone might walk in on them at any second. When she didn’t find anyone there, she turned to her aunt.

“You wouldn’t know him,” Jenna said hesitantly.

“What’s he like?” Alex asked, pushing forward.

“Smart,” Jenna answered right away.

“Cute? Funny?”

Jenna hesitated. “Handsome. Cool, I guess.”

“You guess? Cool as in, James Dean?”

“We just talk sometimes, really. He’s not mine or anything,” Jenna said with a shrug.

“But you want him to be,” Alex noted. “When I asked about a boyfriend, he’s the one you thought of first.”

“He doesn’t like me like that. He says I’m too young.”

Alex silently agreed and regretted the hell out of promising to keep this information secret from Andy and Owen.

“Are you?” Alex asked. “Too young?”

Jenna just rolled a shoulder again, avoiding Alex’s eyes.

“Well, sometimes time has a way of knowing what’s best for us. What’s too young one day is too old another. Just give it time, J. If it’s meant to be, it will be.”

Thoughtful now, Jenna began rolling out the dough for pecan sticky buns without having to ask what needed to be done. She was a natural-born baker, but Alex wouldn’t push her. Jenna was also a natural-born athlete and scholar. The kid had a bright future, no matter where life led her.

“Do you think helping Auntie Beth and Logan have a baby was meant to be?”

Grabbing the mixing bowl that held the filling for the pecan rolls, Alex began spread it on the dough, thinking on Jenna’s question.

Was having a baby for Beth meant to be? Alex had never been sure having kids was for her. She loved Jenna with every fiber if her being, loved being an aunt with a passion, but was being a parent for her? She’d never thought so, but she was able to if she wanted, which was a shame when she thought of someone like Beth, who wanted a baby so badly but couldn’t do it.

So, she’d offered to help her sister because no matter where they’d been in life, no matter the distance, she loved Beth with a ferocity that was reserved for her siblings.

“I do,” she said finally. “I think Beth needed me and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my family. I think I was meant to stay here in Freehope with you and your mom, waiting for your dad to come back home. I think I was meant to stay with Grandpa after Grandma died, to keep him company until he found his footing again.”

“Do you think Mr. Coffee is your future? What you’ve been waiting for?”

Alex barked out a laugh and pulled a face. “I’m not waiting for any man to complete my life, J. You’ve gotta know that. You’re the only one that can make your life what you want it to be. My next step is getting my own shop open or getting the pastry catering thing big enough to sustain itself. If Mr. Coffee was along for the ride, that’s one thing, but I’m certainly not counting on him to the be the one that completes me. For that, I’m counting on me and me alone.”

He was waiting for her when she got to Boston Beans on Thursday morning.

Still wearing a black suit, though today his tie was blue against his white shirt. His blond hair was combed to the side and he stood there, his dark eyes smiling as he held onto two paper coffee cups.

He was quick though. The second he saw her struggle to open the door, he hurried over, set the cups on a table, and took the basket from her hands.

“Thanks,” she said with a smile.

“Anytime.” His voice was smooth and rich, not overly deep or gravelly. “What can I do to help?”

“Um…” Alex looked around and pointed to the counter. “Just put it over by the display and I’ll put everything out.” She grabbed the two coffees and followed him over, standing so close she had to take a step back when he turned.

She mentally rolled her eyes at what a dork she was sometimes.

He plucked one of the cups from her hand and nodded to the one she still held.

“Half-caff,” he told her. “I know how your sister feels about caffeine.” Alex froze, her cup stopped halfway to her lips. He simply shrugged. “You guys look alike.”

Alex snickered under her breath. “You should see my other sister.”

His eyebrows rose. “How many of you are there?”

“Three of us girls and an older brother.”

“So not just sweet sisters. There’s a sweet brother as well.”

“I wouldn’t recommend calling Spencer the sweet brother to his face,” she told him with a small smile, setting her cup down and putting the baked goods out for display. “He’s not exactly big on self-depreciating humor. I mean, I razz him all the time, but I’m a girl so he can’t pound me into the dirt, but you? He might just try it.” She looked him up and down, sizing him up. “And no offense, because you look damn fine, but he’s still got about six inches on you, and his temper has a hair trigger.” She kept talking as she placed each baked good where it belonged, making sure they all looked just right. “Really, Jenna is the only one that could get away with anything remotely insulting without getting her head ripped off but she’s just a kid. Well, not totally a kid anymore because she’s sixteen now and sixteen now is not the same as sixteen when I was a kid, you know. But she’s far too nice to give Spencer a hard time and he thinks she just walks on water. He knows better to think that about the rest of us.” She looked up, startled. “I’m sorry. I ramble when I’m nervous. We call it Walker word vomit.”

His dark eyes danced with humor, his lips turned up at the sides. “I like it. Carry on.”

Sheepish, she turned back, setting the last of the pastries out. “I was always the chatty one, you know. We all have our roles to play. Spencer’s the enforcer, our bodyguard. Andy’s the responsible one. I’m the chatty one. Beth’s the crazy one. Well, not crazy crazy, more like rash crazy. Always running off without a plan. She’s the one that jumps without a safety net.”

“Which one is the one that won’t let you have caffeine?” he asked, curiosity ringing in his every word.

“That’s Beth.”

“So, why is the crazy sister so against you drinking a coffee?”

Her eyes flipped up to see him watching her with that same curiosity burning in his dark brown gaze. Did she tell him she was carrying Beth’s baby? How weird was that?

It occurred to her for the very first time, in that moment, that even if she were to start something with this man, she’d be pregnant.

What the hell was wrong with her? Guys that looked like him didn’t hang around with women that looked like she did on the regular, let alone her when she was pregnant.

“Never mind,” he said, his face now serious with concern. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not that—”

“No really. It’s okay.” He held up a hand, a smile on his lips as he held out his other hand. “I’m Dylan.”

Her cheeks heated at the idea that she’d been spilling her guts about her family, and they still hadn’t even officially introduced themselves. She put the back of her hand to her cheek, hoping to cool it down, then extended a hand.

“Alexa. Alex,” she corrected, then rambled some more. “Beth calls me Lexi even though I asked her not to.”

“You don’t like Lexi?” he asked, her hand still engulfed in his. The warmth tingled its way up her arm, stunning her and keeping her still in his hold.

She shook her head. “I don’t mind it, but I like to have something to fight with her about.”

His brows shot up and he let out a laugh. “Sounds like you have an interesting family.”

She thought about Beth and Logan’s baby growing inside of her as they spoke.

He had no idea how right he was.

“You could say that,” she hedged, hating to, but pulling her hand away from his. “So, what is it that you do, Dylan, other than save women from their overbearing sisters?”

“Nothing actually,” he said seriously. “That’s pretty much my life goal. Find beautiful women in familial distress and rescue them with caffeinated beverages.”

“Some specialty.”

His laugh came easy, his eyes bright, his smile wide. He had the kind of smile that made other people smile just looking at him. Some people just looked shifty when they smiled, like Spencer. He didn’t think much of anything was funny anyway, so it was tough to get him to crack.

Not Dylan. His smile was quick and genuine, and quite possibly addictive.

“It’s a niche market,” he told her with a smirk. “And you bake.”

Remembering her special batch of croissants, she pulled the plate wrapped in plastic and held it out to him.

“Chocolate croissants for my Knight in Shining Coffee.”

He took them but his dark eyes never left hers, intent and unwavering.

“I would have done anything to meet the Bad Girl of Sweet Sisters.”

There was that hashtag again, the one Jenna had picked out just for her. She’d said it would be catchy, and damned if the kid wasn’t right.

“Oh my God,” she said with a laugh. “Please don’t call me that.”

“It fits,” he reasoned.

They stood there, grinning at each other in the middle of the coffee shop.

“So…” she said, holding her empty basket and sipping her coffee. “Don’t you have to go to work or something?”

Dylan checked his watch and look up, resigned. “I do. Same time tomorrow?”

Alex resisted a giggle because that so wasn’t her but it almost bubbled out anyway.

“I’ll be here, she said. “No croissants though. Not until I can find a better supplier who has quality chocolate. Not that commercial crap.”

He looked down at the pastries in his hand and then back to her. “I’ll like them no matter what you use but I won’t expect anything. Just to see you.”

She tilted her head and assessed him, wondering what he was thinking. He hadn’t asked for her number. He hadn’t asked her out. He’d just placed himself squarely in her path.

With a smirk, she took a step back toward the door.

“Tomorrow then.”

He nodded, rooted to his spot. “Tomorrow.”