Page 95 of Branded Hearts

“Thank you, sir,” Bradley replies with a nod.

Dad turns to me. “Amelia, why don’t you head inside and help your mumma with the food?”

I falter for a moment. Welp, that’s my cue to get outtahere so the men can chat. I glance at Bradley, looking for any sign that he’s okay with this. He meets my gaze and smirks, giving me a subtle nod to go ahead.

“Okey dokey,” I say with an awkward wave before turning to head back inside. The kitchen is bustling with activity. Mum is at the counter, slicing vegetables, while Kat is mixing a salad. I join them, trying to steady my racing heart.

Mum looks up, nodding to the bouquet, now in a vase. “He got your favourite flowers,” she comments, a knowing smile on her face. “Seems like someone takes a lot of notice. Lilies and rosé, hm.”

I blush. “He’s just being thoughtful.”

Kat sidles up to me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Thoughtful,sure.He’s quite the catch, isn’t he?”

I nudge her playfully, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Stop it.”

She laughs, giving me a wink. “Just saying, Amelia. He’s a keeper.”

Mum smiles warmly, her hands pausing in their work. “He seems like a good man, Amelia, and a goodfriend,at that,” she adds, her tone suggesting she might have other thoughts about ourfriendship.

I help Kat finish preparing the salad, and as I do, I steal a glance out the window, watching Dad and Bradley chatting by the barbecue. A sense of warmth settles over me, grateful for Bradley’s presence and the support of my family.

As the evening progresses, my mum calls out that dinner is ready. We all sit around the dinner table, Dad occupying the head, with Mum and Kat on either side. John sits beside Kat, keeping Millie entertained in her high chair. I find my place next to Mum, with Bradley seated to my left. Mum serves up the food, and we all dig in, the atmosphere relaxed and warm.

“So, Bradley,” Dad starts, his tone casual yet probing, “how did you and Amelia become friends?” I freeze in my seat as Dad’s question lands squarely on Bradley and me. His casual probing has the unsettling effect of making my heart race. Thankfully, Bradley steps in smoothly, his answer keeping things vague and safe.

“We’ve known each other for a while now,” he says, his voice calm and measured. “Amelia is friends with my sister, Olivia.”

Dad nods, his stoic expression unchanged. “Olivia, that’s right. She couldn’t make it tonight?”

My pulse quickens. Oh, God. “No, she’s babysitting tonight, apparently,” I manage to say, my voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

“Oh, is she?” Bradley’s voice is quiet, with a touch of surprise.

“Apparently. That’s what your mum told mine,” I reply, hoping to keep the conversation from veering into uncomfortable territory.

Mum seizes the opportunity to inquire, “How’s your family, dear? I heard your brother got married earlier this year. That’s very exciting.” I praise the Lord for the subject change.

“Yes, in February. They’re now expecting their first child.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Mum exclaims, her eyes sparkling. I notice Katwatching Bradley, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“And what about you? Marriage and kids on the cards for you, Bradley?” Dad asks, his curiosity plain.

Bradley’s gaze flickers briefly to me before answering, “I’m taking things as they come, Mr. Brown. Focused on my career for now.”

Dad nods, seeming satisfied with the response. “Good to hear. Career first, that’s responsible.”

I clear my throat, sensing the tension building. “Dad, that’s a bit personal,” I interject, my voice wavering. Dad looks at me with a frown, as if just realising he might have crossed a line. Underneath the table, Bradley places a discreet hand on my knee, a gesture that momentarily stops my heart.

“It’s alright, Amelia,” Bradley says softly, his voice reassuring. “Happy to answer.”

The conversation shifts to lighter topics as we continue our meal, laughter and stories filling the air. I steal glances at Bradley, grateful for his presence and the way he effortlessly navigates my family dynamics. His hand remains on my knee, a silent reassurance that anchors me amidst the lively chatter.

As we start packing up our plates, the men retreat to the lounge, but Bradley lingers near me. Kat, Mum, and I gather in the kitchento wash up, and Bradley, bless him, collects the remaining plates from the dining table. He places them on the counter, discarding the leftover food into the rubbish bin.

“Bradley, that’s fine. I’ve got it,” my sister insists, taking over.

“Bradley, love, why don’t you go and join the boys inside?” Mum suggests.

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