Page 35 of One Kind Goal

“So you don’t want to check it out?” Morgan teased.

“Yes, I do! Please, Morgan!”

Morgan cracked up at the wide-eyed, hopeful face looking back at her in the mirror. “I don’t know. Sounds as if you’d rather go to the yogurt factory.”

“Yuck,” Nia and Sawyer said at the same time.

Morgan chuckled. “Okay, okay. Toy store first, yogurt factory second.”

Nia was quiet as Morgan backed the SUV out of the driveway. “Morgan?”

“Yeah?”

“There isn’t really a yogurt factory here, is there?” Nia’s gaze met Morgan’s in the rearview.

“No,” Morgan said, shaking her head. “I was teasing.”

A huge smile bloomed on Nia’s face. “Oh, good.”

As Morgan drove deeper into Maplehaven, she was overcome with this sense of being exactly where she was supposed to be. Sure, she didn’t have a definition for her relationship with Sawyer. They’d hooked up a few times now and obviously the physical heat between them was explosive. All the time she’d spent watching Sawyer play hockey created a familiarity, but they’d only begun to learn things about each other.

Like the fact he was a father, for example.

She still didn’t know so much about him, but she had a strong desire to discover everything that made Sawyer who he was. This trip would hopefully provide that opportunity.

The toy store ended up being on a main street that cut right through town. Dozens of little shops dotted the street, including Cups Café, Tresses Salon, and Cynthia’s Boutique. Morgan had an immediate interest in the boutique, but she could save that for a time when she didn’t have an eager little girl in the back seat, desperate to look at toys.

“This looks like a fun place,” Sawyer said as he unbuckled his seat belt. “Do you see the Lego castle in the window, Nia-bunny?”

“That’s so cool!”

Morgan didn’t answer because her gaze had been drawn to the shop next to the toy store. Trixie’s Attic. The front window had some cute rustic signs leaning against fake evergreen trees decorated with red hearts for Valentine’s Day next week. A few metal tins with red flowers in them sat at the base of one of the trees. Generally speaking, rustic signs, metal tins, and fake flowers didn’t tickle Morgan’s fancy, but something about the little shop called to her.

When she met Sawyer at the back seat where he was helping Nia down, she said, “Do you mind if I peek in there while you guys go to the toy store?” She pointed to Trixie’s Attic.

“Of course not.” He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. “We’ll come find you when we’re done.” He reached back into the SUV and came out with a baseball hat he slapped on his head, pulling it low. “It helps with not getting recognized.”

“Right. Austin does that too.” Morgan bent to be eye level with Nia. “Now, keep a close eye on your daddy. Don’t let him play with all the toys.” She poked Nia’s puffy winter jacket. “And don’t lose him.”

“He’s too big to lose,” Nia said around a giggle.

Morgan straightened and gave Sawyer a slow once-over. “That he is.” She squeezed his arm as she wiggled past him, noting the fire in his gaze and enjoying every second of it. “See you guys in a few.”

“Don’t get into any trouble.” Sawyer’s voice was low and rough.

“Who me?” She fluttered her eyelids and laughed when he closed his eyes for a moment before Nia grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the toy store.

Morgan pulled open the door to Trixie’s Attic and the smell of cranberries immediately filled her nose. She inhaled deeply, suddenly feeling at home in the quaint shop. It was stuffed to the brim with various knick-knacks and Morgan wasn’t sure where to look first. Candles lined one entire wall. Display tables and shelves hosted a variety of baubles. Another wall had a selection of antique clocks above shelves stacked with homemade concoctions in mason jars with raffia tied around their necks and handwritten labels. Interspersed between all that were what Morgan could only call treasures.

Ornate boxes made from dark wood that probably contained something mysterious at one point in their lives.

Sculptures of various wildlife creatures, some of which were as tall as Morgan.

Displays of jewelry that looked as if they may have come from the early 1900s.

Elaborate pieces of furniture with such detailing they were truly pieces of art.

It was like walking through a museum, but here Morgan was allowed to pick up the items and feel their textures, see how the light played over their contours, touch fragments of history.