Page 63 of Simply Yours

“Did he make you breakfast the next morning?” Matthew asked, eyeing her.

Caitlin hesitated. “…Yes.”

“Ohhh, boy.” His lips twitched. “Was it cereal or something more?”

“He made these little pancakes with pineapple rings and?—”

Matthew’s head snapped back. “Are youfreakin’ kidding me?”

Caitlin frowned. “They were good. Are they famous?”

“Tome,they are! Because we only get them onChristmas morning.”

Her mouth parted. “Oh really?”

Matthew threw his arms in the air. “What the heck—I’m calling him.”

“No, you’re not!” Caitlin screeched, launching forward to wrestle the phone out of his hands.

Matthew laughed as she fought him, one hand gripping his phone, the other holding her at bay. “You’repanicking—that means it’sjuicy.”

“Matthew,don’t!” she pleaded, gripping his wrist. “I came to you for help because I want to impress your brother! Don’truinthis by telling him I told you—it wasspecialto me.” Something flickered in his gaze—something unreadable, something that made her heart pound in her chest like she’d just exposed a raw nerve.

Matthew’s jaw ticked, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied her. Then his brows lifted slightly, a slow smirk forming as realization dawned. “You really like him, don’t you? More than just a crush…”

Caitlin swallowed hard, heat creeping up her neck. “I think he’s amazing.”

“My brother? My brother Jason Edward Baird? The stuck-up twerp who acts like he knows everything and?—”

“It’s more than a crush,” she whispered, feeling like the words themselves were an admission of something huge, something irrevocable. She met Matthew’s gaze and for the first time, she truly saw it—the similarities between him and Jason, the shared sharp intelligence, the way their humor masked something deeper. But where Jason was all hard edges and restrained emotion, Matthew was wide open, expressive, and easy to read.

“Matthew,” she murmured, shifting closer. “Remember how at prom we said we’d never try kissing again because there was no spark? No butterflies? That we’d just be friends forever and spend our golden years yelling at people from our rockers in a nursing home?”

“Yeah…” he nodded slowly, wariness creeping into his tone.

“I found the spark, the butterflies…”

Matthew groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Do I want to hear this?”

She pressed forward, determined. “It’s not just a spark, Matthew. It’s an inferno. And those butterflies? They don’t just flutter. They swarm when he looks at me…”

“Ohhhgawd,” Matthew drawled, his entire body recoiling as if she had just confessed to something truly horrifying. His hands lifted as if to physically ward off the mental image. “You’re in love with the dork.”

Caitlin bit her lip, the admission tasting both terrifying and exhilarating. “Falling fast…”

Matthew let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head. “Hussy, you’ve done tripped and belly-flopped into it.” His voice was warm and teasing, but there was something else there, too. A quiet acceptance. Then, before she could react, he yanked her into a hug, squeezing her tight.

Her chest squeezed painfully at the unexpected show of support. She buried her face against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his soap and aftershave—the scent of years of friendship, of safety.

“You’d be an okay sister-in-law, you know?” he murmured, his tone softer now.

Caitlin groaned, shoving at his chest. “Shut up, dork. It’s not like that.” She stepped back, hands on her hips. “We haven’t talked about anything serious, okay? We were discussing birthday gift ideas for your brother, not my relationship with him.”

Matthew cocked his head, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Look,” he said, eyes gleaming with mischief. “He likes thoughtful stuff, things that would blow his mind—things he wouldn’t expect. Just make it emotional or meaningful, toss a little kiss his way, and he’ll be happy.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re sure?”

“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p.’ “Think of something that would hit him hard, that shows you actually listen and care, and he’ll be a puddle of goo… or, well, as gooey as the dork could possibly get. Actually,” he shuddered dramatically, “I donotwant to think of you, my older brother, or goo in the same sentence.”

---