Page 57 of Talk Wicked to Me

Junie beamed and leaned against Tank’s leg. “We gotta go now to get salt water so the hermit crabs don’t die. Right, Papa Tank?”

“Looks like it,” Tank said as he took her hand. “Lee, do you want to wait here?”

“And miss an adventure?” Leah smiled lovingly at him. “Not a chance. It was nice meeting you, Emerson.”

“I going!” Rosie wriggled out of Baz’s arms and grabbed Tank’s other hand.

Tank nodded once and headed for the door with his family.

“They have their hands full,” Emerson said. “I feel bad about River.”

“We all do,” his father said. “But they have us, and we’re lucky enough to call them family. Let’s go find your table.”

As they followed his father outside, Baz lowered his voice, asking, “What was that my mother said about an idea?”

“She thinks I should get a permit to sell my cookies.”

“That’s a great idea. Everyone loves them.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re good enough to sell,” she said quietly as they made their way past the other tables and guests.

“Trust me, they are. Are you interested in doing it?”

“I’m not sure. I have so much going on right now. It’s a lot to think about.”

“I’m glad you’re at least thinking about it.”

As his father put the baby carrier on their reserved table to get a better look at Brennan, Baz realized they’d rearranged the seating on the deck, giving them a table set apart from the others. He was glad his parents had thought to do it. He wanted Emerson to feel comfortable and was thankful for the privacy.

“Look at this little heartstopper,” his father said. “Other than his hair, he looks like you, Emerson.”

“Doesn’t he?” Baz said. “He’s a beautiful boy.”

“I remember when you were this age, Baz. They didn’t have the same baby rules back then. A week out of the hospital, you were going everywhere with us, and your dimples stopped people in their tracks.”

“They still do,” Emerson said.

“That’s just one of the Wicked curses my boys and I suffer through,” his father said. “But Baz is the only one who figured out the power of them at a young age. When he was about eight or nine, he realized that when he smiled, he could melt women’s hearts. You should’ve seen him at community events. He’d go right up to the ice cream stand with enough money to get a cone, and when it was his turn, he’d ask for extra this or that, flashing a grin, and he’d come away with a sundae every time.”

Emerson laughed. “I can see him doing that, and a heck of a lot worse as he got older.”

“We won’t go there,” his father said. “But if there’s one thing about Wickeds, when we find the one, we lock that door and throw away the key.” He put a hand on Baz’s shoulder but spoke to Emerson. “I’ll leave you two to enjoy your lunch. I’m glad I finally got to meet the cookie queen everyone’s talking about, and your little prince.”

“I don’t know who everyone is, but I’m glad they like my cookies, and I’m happy I got to finally meet you, too.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

As his father headed inside, Baz moved the baby carrier off the table and pulled out a chair for Emerson, happy to have her all to himself again. He sat in the chair closest to her instead of across the table and placed Brennan’s carrier between them to keep himself from reaching for her.

“YOU WERE RIGHT about your dad. He’s a lot like my father was. I love your parents. Are they always so affectionate toward each other?”

“Yes, and after the hell they’ve gone through, I have a feeling nothing could break their bond.”

“You mean losing Ashley?”

“That was the worst blow, but on a daily basis there are all sorts of stresses. The restaurant, and me and my brothers and the hard times we’ve had and given them. Not to mention the club. That can drive a stake between couples.”

Her brows knitted. “I assumed you didn’t have club girls hanging around, but I guess I shouldn’t assume that.”