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Gideon nudges me with his leg under the table. “She practiced quite a bit. Long, long sessions in the kitchen after everyone else had left.” He nudges me again and I know he’s referring to what we did after pie practice. “And I helped her pick the winning recipe, among other things.” He nudges me again. “Without a doubt, she’s got it in the bag.”

I turn to Gideon, feeling all bubbly and mushy inside after hearing him brag about me out loud, in front of everyone. “I couldn’t have completed the contest without him, or Clara, for that matter.”

Six brothers. One mother. I watch the constellation of women at the table. Somehow, they found their way onto this mountain and decided to stay. They live so close a storm can’t keep them apart. Chicago has noise and crowds, but it isn’t this. This is a home. The thought hits me so fast it’s frightening. I can almost picture my own parents at this table, fitting right in.

“Lila Harlow,” Clara announces, sailing in with a platter, her silver earrings swing and glitter under the lights of the old-fashioned chandelier above the table. “Contestant. Guest. Soon-to-be Palooza champion, eat before these animals pick the bones.”

Gideon chuckles under his breath as she sets the platter down and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re family tonight, honey. We don’t have to say a word about the contest, if you don’t want. Trust me, I know what the pressure feels like, and we have a few hours left to wait before the ceremony starts—”

“And she’ll win. Just like you did last year.” Gideon gives me a peck on the cheek.

“I gave it everything. Now all I can do is hope for the best.”

“And eat,” Clara insists. “And please pass that platter in front of you around, Lila.”

I pass the potatoes and laugh when Slade tells a story about a moose, a bucket, and a bottle of whiskey that can’t possibly be true, but Zephyr swears it is. I watch Eva steal food off Slade’s plate and the way he lets her without blinking. Lyssa catches my eye across the table and mouths, you okay? I nod, because I am. More than okay.

Under the table, my knee finds Gideon’s. We’ve been touching each other in one way or another as the hours to the ceremony fly by in a flicker.

After dessert, we all help clear the plates. I offer to wash the dishes, dry, or do something, but Clara won’t have it. She wants us to leave first to save a row of seats.

When I hug her and Gideon’s brothers and sisters-in-law goodbye, my heart aches with a surprising intensity. I’m dreading getting on the train tomorrow. I want to tell Gideon that as long as he’s by my side, I could be happy anywhere, even driving on gravel roads, or peering into harvest windows, and decorating for every holiday right here in Passion Pines.

As we step onto the porch, Sierra follows us out, pulling her sweater tight against the cold. “For what it’s worth,” she says, her breath fogging in the air, “the mountain looks good on you. Really good.” She winks. “Just thought you should know.”

I draw her and her great pumpkin-sized belly in for another hug. “How did you know? That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

Chapter eleven

Thirty minutes down the winding road from Gideon’s ridge, we find the little town suddenly on. The old-fashioned streetlights are wrapped in orange and shimmery gold banners. We pass the Misty Mountain Mercantile, the sheriff’s department, and the volunteer firehouse, all gussied up for the official Mountain Munchie Pie Palooza. City hall sits at the end of it all, lit up like a beacon with a television crew outside.

“Whole town’s here,” Gideon mutters, pulling into the lot and killing the engine.

“No one wants to miss the big night.” My voice comes out a lot brighter than my stomach feels.

Gideon leans over the console and runs his big fingers along my jaw, tipping me so he catches me square in the eyes. “Don’t be nervous, okay? I got you.”

“I know you do.” I reach out and kiss him. “I’m not sure I’d even have the guts to go inside if it wasn’t for you.”

“Good thing I’m here then. Stay where you are. I’m going to help you out.”

It isn’t raining, but it’s slippery, and cold enough that I button my coat up to my throat. I hang on to Gideon’s arm and take baby steps, not sure wearing my lucky heels was such a good idea. The second I take the first step up to the door, the world tilts, and I lose my balance.

Gideon darts behind me just before I land on my butt. “Where do you think you’re going?” He chuckles and, shockingly, slides an arm under my knees, the other on my back, and lifts me into his arms.

A couple near the door actually stops talking.

I clutch his shoulders and kiss behind his ear. “This is getting to be a habit with you. I probably look pretty feeble,” I whisper, as he effortlessly carries me up the steps.

“Can’t have you breaking your ankle, and you’re anything but feeble.” He grins down at me. “Far from it.”

“You’re my hero, you know that, don’t you? Wait.” I shift so I can be sure. “Are you blushing?”

“Hardly. You’ll need both feet to walk up on stage to accept your award.” He carefully sets me down on the dry concrete. “But I do like it when you let me take care of you. Hell, I’m still shocked you haven’t kicked me to the curb yet. Now, hold my arm. The floor in there might be wet.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” After looping my arm through his, we enter the warm, crowded community center. Inside, a few women crane their necks. I keep my voice low. “Don’t turn now, but I think we just made a splash in this small pond.”

“If anyone’s staring, they’re not looking at me, curvy.”