Page 41 of When I Fall In Love

“Well, Beth-dear,” Bill says. “It might be called Best Batch at the factory, but here we all know that BB really stands for Beth’s Batch.”

“Oh,” Georgiana says, her eyes going wide as she glances at Beth and then at me.

Heat crawls up my neck to my face and I drop my gaze to my empty plate. Dead silence hangs in the room, like a bated breath about to be expelled in some form of teasing. I might as well own up before they tear me to pieces, dictate how deep into this turd I’m going to push my foot. “It’s because you always tested the first batches I made and always made useful recommendations. It’s been Beth’s Batch ever since. I can’t help if people mishear.”

“That would’ve been me,” Georgiana says on a laugh as she stands. “How can I help, Hunter? Bowls, spoons? Let’s clear the table first.”

Thank God for this woman. Georgiana knows how to read a table… or maybe she just knows how to read me. I must be an open book. Fuck, I hope I’m not an open book.

It’s a hustle around me as my brothers get busy following Georgiana’s and May’s lead, but Beth still sits across the table from me, blinking, her eyes on me. There’s something in her gaze that tells me she’s seeing me—really seeing me—for the first time.

“So… what’s in your Sugar Plum Fairy?” Beth asks.

“Nothing plum.” A rumble of chuckles and Thank Gods float around. “It’s white chocolate, strawberry swirl and white nougat.”

“That sounds amazing. And the Nutcracker?”

“Toffee crunch, chocolate swirl and roasted nut clusters.”

“Heavens,” Beth breathes out. “That’s Christmas dessert sorted.”

“You never came by the factory today.” I waited for her the whole day, but she doesn’t need to know that.

She leans closer and I mimic her movement. “I’m sorry, Hunter,” Beth whispers. “I just didn’t have the courage.”

20

BETH

I’ve just been so honest with Hunter, exposing a part of me that I should keep under cover. He doesn’t need to know how this trip is affecting me, or how Kyle’s hints at emotional investment made me swing like a pendulum the whole day.

Ask me if I was moody much today? I’m like a woman on the first day of her long-awaited tropical vacation, only to have a period from hell burst into the room out of nowhere and not a tampon in sight to ward it off. At least tonight has been wonderful so far, and just being here among these people flipped my mood.

I lean back in my seat, fighting the urge to reach for Hunter’s hand where it rests on the table. My head swirls with the movement and there you have it: half the reason for the upswing in my frame of mind. I’m tipsy. That also explains the verbal diarrhea. Nice.

Someone puts a glass of water in front of me, and I look up.

Raiden smiles down at me. “Just in case,” he mouths with a wink.

He has been quiet during dinner, and I bet our face to face at Al’s Grocer has been playing on his mind.

“Thank you,” I mouth back, picking up the glass and drinking most of it. When I put it down again, Hunter’s gaze is still on me, blue and intense.

Soon Georgiana is stacking bowls in front of Hunter, and Hannah follows with spoons. He gets up to fetch his ice cream and comes back with a tower of pints. For once the group at the table hushes as Hunter puts six pints of ice cream on the table.

“You’re all getting three scoops of Sugar Plum Fairy first. Each scoop has a different ratio of the key flavor ingredients.” He spoons three small scoops in each bowl and marks them with three different colored flags. “Don’t gobble it all up, folks. I want real feedback on this Sugar Plum Fairy. More swirl? More nougat? Less? You’ll taste what I mean. We’ll vote with these flags. The color with the most votes wins.”

With that, the hushed chatter stops. Now it’s only teaspoons clinking against glass bowls and hums of approval. This is clearly an almost sacred ritual in the Brodie household and I’m here, experiencing something that’s sort-of named after me. I’ve been here all along, in spirit if not in person.

I slip a spoonful between my lips and oh my word, it’s delicious. I try a spoon from every scoop and then start again at the first. After having done the rounds three times with each scoop, I glance around at the others. Some have discarded a flag, or even two, with only a winner remaining. I meet Hunter’s gaze across the table. “They all taste the same to me?” I whisper to him, but in the relative quiet of the table, I might just as well have spoken at the top of my voice.

Everybody turns to stare at me in mock horror, and I burst out in giggles, which just shows how intoxicated I really am.

“Hell yeah,” Ethan chuckles. “It’s the same for me. Sometimes I think Hunter tricks us by serving the same thing without telling us.”

“Just keeping you on your toes,” Hunter says with a smirk. “It’s not unusual. Some people are better tasters than others and it helps if you do this with a palate cleanser and an empty stomach with zero alcohol involved. Either way, the tasting team at the factory has their winning recipe, we’re just doing this for fun.” He glances around the table. “It’s become a tradition now.”

“I want more.” Hannah has clambered off her seat and is holding out her bowl to Hunter. “Please.”

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