Page 61 of Knot in Bloom
“Maybe.” His cheeks flush slightly, and the boyish embarrassment transforms his whole face. “Thought you’d like seeing the big picture for once. Instead of being right in the middle of it all.”
“I love it. I love that you thought about what would make me happy.”
When the server comes to take our drink orders, I catch Caleb watching me with an expression I can’t quite read. Softer than usual. Less guarded.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing. Just... you look beautiful tonight. Relaxed.” He pauses, considering his words. “It’s nice seeing you without worry lines between your eyebrows.”
“I don’t have worry lines.”
“You have worry lines.” He reaches across the table to gently smooth the spot between my brows with his thumb. “Right here. They show up every time someone mentions the festival or supplier delays or insurance payments.”
The casual intimacy of the touch makes my breath catch. “How long have you been noticing my worry lines?”
“Since the berry festival. Maybe before that.” His hand retreats, but his eyes stay warm. “I pay attention to you, Sadie. Have been for a while now.”
The admission sends heat racing through me, and I can smell how my scent sweetens in response. From the way his pupils dilate slightly, he notices too.
“Tell me about growing up with Maeve,” I say, needing to steer the conversation somewhere safer before I do something embarrassing like climb across the table. “I remember you and Dean letting me tag along on some of your adventures, but I had a feeling I was a little imposing.”
His expression shifts, becomes fond. “You were determined. You’d follow us around with that stubborn little chin raised, daring us to try to ditch you.”
“I was not that bad.”
“You were exactly that bad. And it was adorable.” He grins, and the expression makes him look years younger. “I might have complained to Aunt Maeve that my little shadow had his own shadow.”
“I just wanted to be included.”
“I know. And we should have been nicer about it.” His voice gets gentler. “For what it’s worth, I always thought you were brave. Most kids would have given up after the first time we told you to go home.”
“I was stubborn.”
“You were brave,” he corrects. “There’s a difference.”
The server returns with wine, and Caleb waits until we’re alone again before continuing. “Aunt Maeve raised us after my parents died. And she always told me to be kind and understanding… especially with a brave girl following me around on mountain hikes.”
“She taught me how to cook, how to treat people with respect, how to use my hands to fix things instead of just breaking them.” His smile turns warm with genuine affection.
“She raised a good man.”
“She tried to. Jury’s still out on how well she succeeded.” But he’s smiling when he says it, and I can smell the contentment in his scent when he talks about his aunt.
“What was it like? Growing up there?”
“Loud. Warm. Always people coming and going. Aunt Maeve never could turn anyone away who needed help.” He pauses to taste the wine, nods approvingly to the server. “She’d have Dean and me doing chores to earn our allowance, but then she’d slip us extra money if she thought we were working particularly hard.”
“Sounds like she spoiled you.”
“Completely. Still does.” His grin turns sheepish. “She sent care packages to wherever I’m stationed. Homemade cookies, hand-knitted socks, newspaper clippings about people from home. The guys in my unit used to call me ‘Montana’ because of all the hometown stuff she’d send.”
The image of big, tough Caleb receiving care packages from his Aunt makes my chest feel tight with affection. “That’s sweet.”
“It’s embarrassing. But also...” He pauses, looking for words. “It’s nice having someone who cares enough to embarrass you, you know? Someone who worries about whether you’re eating enough vegetables and staying warm.”
“She loves you.”
“Yeah. She does.” His expression grows more thoughtful. “When I decided to come home, she was the first person I told. Before I even submitted my discharge papers.”
