Page 35 of Coastal Rewind

We all just pinned him with a look that said “bullshit” but no one said anything. Zane liked to act like a player, but I think he secretly wanted to find a woman to settle down with. He joked about all the women he slept with, but I’d honestly never seen him actually take one home with him.

“Anyway…” Nolan shifted his attention to me. “What’s the plan for Ryleigh’s birthday?”

I froze. “Her birthday?”

Nolan furrowed his brow. “It’s in two days.”

“She didn’t mention it.”

“Yeah, well, she wouldn’t. The girl hasn’t been home for a birthday since she was twenty-one.”

Something about that statement made my heart sink. There was a reason Ryleigh put so much space between her and her family, and it had to be deeper than her love for travel. I knew she’d been home for other events: vacations, weddings, and birthday parties. But she didn’t seem to ever give them a chance to celebrate her.

“Does Owen have plans?” I asked, knowing that their brother’s wife likely was planning something.

“Not that I know of. Him and Lottie will probably have dinner or something and then maybe cake at my dad’s.”

“I have an idea.”

Nolan’s lips tipped up at the edges as I proposed something I was sure Ryleigh would pretend to hate. She liked to put on this front that she was hard as stone and unbreakable, but she was just a girl who was afraid to open herself up. I was determined to show her that she could.

I walked into the house and was hit with the glorious smells of baked goods. This had become our habit. Every time I came home from a few days away, I was greeted with some new baked recipe the two concocted. There was an endless stream of cupcakes, donuts, muffins, and cinnamon rolls and they were always mouth wateringly good.

Today, there were smells of chocolate and peanut butter that had me hurrying toward the kitchen.

MJ was standing at the island in a chef hat and apron, plating cookies as Ryleigh held a tray out for him. Endless plates covered the marble counter filled with cookies of various shapes, sizes, and colors.

“Dad!” MJ cheered before hopping off his step stool and running up to me. I scooped him into my arms as he wrapped his around my neck.

“I missed you, little man,” I whispered as he squeezed me tightly. These greetings were my favorite.

“Welcome home, Superstar.” Ryleigh smiled as she continued to scoop the cookies off MJ’s abandoned tray.

“What’s all this?” I asked, gesturing to the buffet of sweets.

“We wanted to make cookies but we couldn’t pick between chocolate or peanut butter or lemon or rainbow sprinkle or s’mores so we made all of them.” MJ was absolutely beaming. He squirmed in my arms until I placed him back on his feet.

Ryleigh put the tray back on the oven and turned, dusting her hands on her leggings.

“Okay,” she said in a stern tone. “It’s time for the cookie-tasting competition.”

MJ handed me a plate before taking my hand and dragging me to the island. I placed one of each cookie on my plate and waited for MJ and Ryleigh to do the same. I picked up the chocolate chip and took a massive bite. It was soft as the chocolate melted on my tongue in an explosion of sweetness.

“Holy shit,” I muttered with my cheeks full of cookie. “How did you learn how to bake like this?”

MJ snickered at my use of language but my eyes were pinned on my little nomad.

She shrugged. “There was this one little town in Tennessee that had an amazing bakery. I did a whole post about them on social media and the owner offered to teach me some tricks so I could photograph her process.”

“I love her.” I shoved the rest of the cookie in my mouth before grabbing the next. It was an iced lemon cookie with a soft lemon curd center. It was equally as phenomenal. They were all fucking phenomenal.

We tried each cookie one by one, giving ratings as we went. The chocolate chip cookie lost to the s’mores—which I protested—but in the end we were all full of cookies and running a sugar high before noon.

I sank down on the couch next to Ryleigh as MJ ran into his room to play. Ryleigh clicked through the channels on the TV until she landed on some trashy reality show. She grabbed a blanket and placed it over both of our legs as I lounged back and draped my arm across the back of the couch.

“So, everything was good this week?” I asked, looking at the TV like I gave a fuck about this show.

“No issues at all.”