"Honey, I fear for you."

Moira paused, awkwardly bent over the table her mother sat at with a plate of brownies in hand. Her mom continued to look at her with genuine concern, fiddling with the straps of her bright red pocketbook that she had perched across her lap.

Finally, Moira placed the plate down and asked, "Why?"

Madison Delaney, better known as Maddie to her family and friends (i.e., their entire county), straightened in her seat with a deep breath and gestured to the empty booth chair across from her. "Sit, sit. This is gonna take a while."

Moira started to protest. "Mom, I got work-"

"Samantha, can you take over for a bit, sweetie?" Maddie called out to the blonde behind the counter replacing a tray of cupcakes on the display shelf.

"You got it, Maddie!" Sam called back with a wave and Moira shot her a betrayed look.

What good is a childhood best friend and co-owner if said childhood best friend and co-owner couldn't help a sister out when they're in need?

"Sit down, Moira."

With a resigned sigh, Moira barely stopped herself from flopping down onto the faux-leather seat with an actual pout. It had been six years since she graduated from high school but Maddie had never failed to make her feel like a teenager again, and not in a fun way.

"Now, Moira, you know I love you," Maddie began and Moira couldn't stop herself from groaning even if she tried to. Nothing that came from her mother's mouth ever ended well when it followed that line. Maddie, ever the trooper, plowed straight through, "And I want nothing but the best for you, and it's been obvious that the best is here in your café."

"Thank you for acknowledging that," Moira nodded gratefully despite knowing there was a very big 'but' to follow.

"But," Ah, right on cue, "don't you at least want to see a little bit of the world? It's not too late, you know."

Was it too late to smack her brain into a wall?

"Your dad and I won't mind at all if you want to tag along on our trip."

"Mom, no," Moira protested with a groan. "For the last time, I'm good here, like really good. Plus, this is your honeymoon trip that's been what, twenty-three, twenty-five years in the making? I'm not going to tag along on that even if I wanted to, so please, please drop it."

Moira would probably start groveling if Maddie continued to persist. That was how stubborn her mom could be and that was the extreme Moira was willing to go to if push came to shove.

A few tense seconds passed as mother and daughter stared each other down, and, just when Moira was about to look away, Maddie sighed, heavy and burdened while Moira's shoulders dropped in relief as her mom leaned back into her seat.

"Alright," Maddie conceded which translated to, "You win this round, but be prepared for the next." Oh, she'll be prepared. "Alright. I'll buy some dry food for Millie later so you won't have to while we're gone."

"Thanks, mom," Moira said as she stood up and dropped a kiss on her mother's forehead.

Maddie hummed with a small smile but Moira still heard her sigh as she walked back to the counter, grabbing an empty tea set from a vacated table and slipped into the kitchen through the swinging, saloon-type doors.

Sam glanced up at her from the sink where she was scrubbing a brownie pan and asked, "So, how'd it go?"

"I think I bought myself a few months before she starts again." Moira pinned Sam with a look as she set the teapot down on the counter by the sink. "No thanks to you, by the way."

Sam raised her suds-covered hands in surrender. "Yeah, no, I'm not stupid enough to defy Maddie. Plus, I believed in you, and you obviously prevailed."

Moira rolled her eyes, suppressing an amused smile. "For now. How soon do you think she's going to employ the help of her crocheting club again?"

"Give or take," Sam tilted her head from side to side with a thoughtful hum as she went back to scrubbing, "maybe a month? Could be less though. You never know with your mom."

"Ain't that the truth," Moira sighed.

Suddenly, the back door clattered open and Sam's fourteen-year-old cousin stumbled through, all gangly arms and wild hair. Moira checked the time on her wristwatch and raised both her brows, impressed. "Right on time, Tony!"

"It's all according to plan, young padawan!" The teen grinned as he slid his backpack off, setting it by the door with his skateboard before he grabbed his gear for cleaning tables.

Moira laughed, then gave the teen a quizzical squint when he got closer. "Did you change the color of your braces?"

"Yeah! You like?" Tony grinned again, showing off the dark green shade.

Moira nodded. "I like."

Sam snorted. "I think it looks like you have broccoli stuck in your teeth."

"Haters gon' hate," Tony shrugged, ducking with a surprised laugh when Sam flicked soapy water towards him. He dashed to the other side of the kitchen, putting the long metal prep table between him and his cousin. Moira took a cautious step back so she wasn't in the line of fire.

"Get outta here," Sam ordered with a raise of her chin, finally cracking a smile at her relative. "Those tables aren't gonna clean themselves."

Tony mocked a salute in their direction and disappeared into the front of the store.

"You better get out there and watch him," Sam warned her, turning on the tap to rinse off a baking pan. "I'll finish icing the cupcakes for Mrs. Hudson."

"You're a gem, Sam!" Moira kissed her friend's cheek in appreciation and followed after Tony.

The rest of the afternoon went by with the usual customers coming in: kids from the local county high school, students from the community college, and of course, the retirees. However, there was one regular Moira had been on the lookout for that hadn't shown up in the past day and showed no signs of showing up today as well.

Mrs. Hudson, a sweet old lady in her late sixties who had moved to Georgia six years ago, had been coming in since the day Moira opened the doors of Sweet Cheeks. She always bought one cherry-filled chocolate cupcake (Moira's house special) and a pot of Honey Vanilla Chamomile tea. She was also part of her mom's crocheting club but didn't partake in her mother's insistence for her to do something outside of the state of Georgia—which instantly drew Moira to her.

But that was only one of the many things Moira loved about Mrs. Hudson.

So, on days that Mrs. Hudson failed to visit Sweet Cheeks, Moira made an effort to bring Sweet Cheeks to Mrs. Hudson.

At six P.M. on the dot, Moira had just flipped the sign on the front door from Open to Close when her phone rang from her apron's pocket.

She checked the number then answered with a smile as she walked back to the kitchen, "Hey, Nat! What can I do you for?"

Natalie was a classmate of hers from high school and while they weren't close, they were friends and one of the few in her graduating class that decided to stay locally. She was also a mom, the type that seemingly had everything together as she reared a toddler.

However, she sounded anything but put together as her voice carried through the phone's speakers. "Moira, thank God! I was going to call your shop but I realized it was closing time and I probably wouldn't be able to catch you there. I have an order I'd like to place for tomorrow and I completely forgot to call earlier because the people I was calling for the bouncy house just could not seem to get what I want right, and-"

"Nat, breathe!" Moira waved away Sam's concerned look and waited until after she heard Natalie exhale to continue, "Okay. Now, slow down. Let's go back to your order, okay? What time do you need it tomorrow, and what type?"

"Moira, you're the best. I need two dozen of your house special for Christian's birthday tomorrow before noon."

"Oh, he's turning three already, isn't he?" Moira grinned wistfully as she opened the door to the fridge and eyed the container full of Mrs. Hudson's cupcakes. "I still remember him as a newborn."

"Time flies," Nat agreed, tone soft with motherly affection. "Think you could do it?"

Moira checked her wrist watch. "Yeah, I can."

"Oh, thank you so, so much! I love you, Moira!"

"I love you too." Moira laughed. "Say hi to the little guy for me, huh?"

They exchanged goodbyes and Moira spun around to face Sam and Tony. The cousins were watching her with matching looks of expectation. She clapped her hands together and shot them a grin. "Who's ready for some overtime?"

Tony and Sam looked at each other, had a mental conversation, and shrugged.

"I'm always down to make more money," Tony said.

"And I'm all for eating the rejects of whatever you make," Sam grinned with no hint of shame.

By the time they finished filling the cupcakes with cherry jam (a handmade recipe passed down to Moira from her grandmother), it was already around eight-thirty, and it turned out that Tony still had homework to do.

"I can't believe you forgot about your homework!" Sam was saying as she and Tony disappeared out the back door together after a parting wave.

Moira chuckled as she heard the beginning of Tony's answer before the door shut after them. The only thing they had left to do with Nat's order was icing which Moira could do in the morning when she gets in. So, with a nod at the cupcakes in the fridge, she reached for Mrs. Hudson's and got to work locking everything up.

Steven Tyler's voice serenaded her about love in an elevator when she started the engine of her old, reliable beater, followed up by Journey's Faithfully which Moira soulfully sang along to, complete with hand gestures. By the time she drove down Mrs. Hudson's long, gravel driveway, Bonnie Tyler was holding out for a hero. The digital clock on her dash showed it was ten minutes past nine, which would've worried Moira if the front porch and living room lights of the two-story stone house weren't on.

She took the wooden steps of the porch two at a time and rang the doorbell, bouncing a bit on her toes as she waited for Mrs. Hudson to appear. A moment passed, and another, before Moira decided to try the bell again.

The doorknob rattled and Moira smiled, prepared to greet her friend then promptly froze because Mrs. Hudson had transformed from a five-foot-three, sweet old lady into a six-foot-something man with broad shoulders that almost filled the door jamb, drawing attention to a tapered waist and long legs.

It became apparent to Moira that this was not Mrs. Hudson displaying her shape-shifting skills, because while in the light of the porch she could see that his eyes were a familiar shade of steel blue that she always found unique to Mrs. Hudson, his face was a different kind of familiar. She wracked her brain for any memory where she might've seen this man's face when Moira caught sight of a framed picture. It was nailed to the hallway's wall just off to the side of the man's arms.

She snapped her fingers and pointed up to him with a triumphant smile. "You're Mrs. Hudson's son!"

He looked a lot older than Mrs. Hudson's picture of him, which had been taken when he first joined the Navy, but Moira would know that square jaw, sharp cheekbones, and straight mouth anywhere. But not because she couldn't help but appreciate the man's looks every time she visited, not at all. It was just kind of hard not to memorize his face when it was the first thing that greeted anyone that stepped through Mrs. Hudson's door.

"Gabriel, right? I'm Moira," she continued when the man simply raised a dark brow at her, face remaining blank as she held out the container of cupcakes. "I have something for your mom."

He stared at her.

Moira stared back, frozen to the spot as her mind failed to come up with a next course of action.

"She's not home," he finally replied in a baritone that Moira was not expecting, and started to close the door.

Moira blinked as the fog lifted from her brain to process his answer. "What? Where did she go? When?"

He paused, and a look briefly passed over his face before it settled back into the neutral Moira was quickly becoming accustomed to. "She's on vacation, cruising the Caribbean. I saw her off this morning."

"Oh." Moira frowned at the fabric of his white shirt, stretched (in her opinion) precariously across his chest. How does someone even get a chest that broad? She shook the thought away and pasted another smile on her face. "Well then, I guess this is for you now!"

He eyed the container with obvious suspicion and made no move to take it from her.

"It's cupcakes," she explained with a small laugh, trying her hardest not to feel awkward because that would just be...well, awkward. "Your mom would usually come by my shop and buy one. I figured since she missed yesterday and today I'd bring her some."

Moira stood confused when he just stood there, eyes roaming her face as if searching for something. Did she have flour on her face? Some chocolate batter, perhaps? No, Sam would've pointed it out to her. Then, those eyes flickered behind her and Moira hesitantly threw a glance over her shoulder. When she found nothing but the tree line, she returned her gaze back to Gabriel and nearly jumped out of her skin. He was staring at her again. Moira resisted the urge to fidget.

What the heck is this guy's problem?

She should just leave the cupcakes with him and leave.

Before she could do anything to break the tense silence that had seemingly arrested the air around them, Gabriel stepped back and asked, "Want to come in?"

Moira kind of wanted to refuse because his jaw was suddenly clenched, but her momma raised her to have manners so she nodded with a smile she hoped masks how nervous she actually felt. "Yeah, sure!"

When she stepped through and passed Gabriel's ridiculous bulk, three things happened in quick succession: something whizzed by her right ear, the vase that Mrs. Hudson always filled with fresh flowers at the end of the hall, shattered, and Gabriel cursed a blue streak above her.

Wait, above her?

He pulled her back to her feet and shoved her into the living room.

"Keep low!" he commanded harshly, one hand on the small of her back as the other held a gun.

A gun?!

"Wha-" she pointed a shaking finger at the weapon, belatedly realizing that he had guided them to crouch behind one of Mrs. Hudson's floral couches.

But he wasn't paying any attention to her. Instead, he was peeking over the couch's back and, wow, could he clench that jaw any harder? When he turned back to her, his steel-blue eyes were hard and cold, and Moira found it unnerving. Mrs. Hudson's were always warm and smiling. Were his lips moving? Why did the TV screen have a hole? Where the heck are the cupcakes?

Oh, there they were, scattered across the wooden floor in front of the door.

"Moira!"

"Huh?" Her head snapped back to Gabriel. No, that wasn't right because there was a grip on her chin, not too tight but firm anyway. When she startled at the shattering of a nearby trophy case, his grip on her chin forced her attention back to him. "Moira, focus on me. Look at me."

"I'm looking!"

"Pay attention." At her frantic nod, he continued, releasing his grip on her, "We're going to make a break for the backdoor, okay? You need to stay behind me, no matter what."

She jumped again when a picture frame fell to the floor, squeezing her eyes shut. Listen, Moira wasn't unfamiliar with guns and the sound of gunshots (her dad made sure to take her shooting a couple times a year when she was growing up), what she wasn't used to was being shot at. Because that was what was happening, her brain finally deduced. She's being shot at and she had no earthly idea why.

"Moira!"

"What?!"

"What did I say?"

"Break for the back door, and- and, oh, God! Stay behind you!" Great, she was hyperventilating. How was he so calm?!

"Okay, good. Now open your eyes."

She did.

"On the count of three, we run. Okay?"

She nodded.

"One..."

She grabbed his free hand with both of hers.

"Two."

His hand squeezed hers.

"Three!"

It was as if Moira wasn't the only one anticipating the count because as soon as Gabriel pulled them out from the protection of the couch, the front door burst open with a cloud of smoke and her arms twinged as Gabriel pulled her harder with him. Moira was definitely screaming. How could she not when more gunfire filled the air, these ones more rapid than the last rounds? If there were ever a time to scream like a banshee, it was definitely when bullets were spraying after you.

The cool, late summer night air was blessedly fresh to breathe in as they spilled out into the back porch, but Moira had no time to truly appreciate it as Gabriel continued to pull her along, silently motioning for her to duck as they circled around the house towards the front. Then he plastered them both along the stone wall and peeked around the corner, gun at ready.

"Your car keys?" he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

Shakily, Moira pulled them out of her pocket and he nodded, "I'm gonna lay down some cover fire for us, so I want you to run to your car, get in the passenger seat and turn the engine on, copy?"

"Yeah. Yeah, copy," Moira exhaled before swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat.

"Alright, get ready." A heartbeat. "Now."

Moira pumped her legs as hard as she could, screeching only once at the beginning shots Gabriel sent behind them and all but dove into the passenger's seat as soon as she flung the door open. The keys shook in her grip, fingers cold and unfeeling as she tried to slot the one for her car into the ignition. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

She chanced a peek at Gabriel over the dash and found him still shooting at the house as he walked backwards to her car, way too casually for her liking.

"C'mon!" The key finally slipped in and Moira turned. She never thought the sound of her car's engine purring to life could sound so heavenly. "Yes! Gabriel, let's go!"

He glanced towards her over his shoulder, picked up his pace as he shot a few more rounds. When he reached the driver's side, Moira quickly stretched out over the middle console to open the door for him.

She screamed when the mirror on her side of the car shattered, curling forward in her seat and covering her head with her arms. Thankfully, Gabriel finally entered, but that meant that whoever had been shooting at them was free to rain hellfire on them.

"Hang on!" he called over the noise, shifted the gear into reverse, and floored the gas pedal. Her poor Honda spun gravel as it jerked into motion and Gabriel backed the vehicle down his mother's driveway with expert ease at forty-five miles an hour.

Just as they reached the end of the drive, Gabriel did something with the handbrake and gear shift that had them drifting in a circle which somehow repositioned her car so it was facing the right way, before fishtailing it out unto the main road, effectively leaving behind Mrs. Hudson's house and their would-be murderers.

Moira attempted to count to ten, failed, and popped up from her curled position to finally confront the man who had just turned her entire life upside down.

"What the hell was that?!"