Page 25 of Carly's Heart

“I have to ask, what’s with your name? Who names a kid Birch?”

“Helen-Rose and Buckton Thorn Brighton of course. It’s a family tradition. Did you know that Tanya’s real name is Lily-Rose Tanya? She started going by Tanya in kindergarten because there was another Lily. It sort of stuck, I guess.”

“I had no idea. Boy, am I going to razz her.”

He rose to his feet and shook his finger at her. “No, you will not, she’ll kill me if she knows I mentioned it. She hates the name Lily.”

Mentioning Tanya brought Carly’s thoughts back to the wedding. She was hurt that she didn’t get to see it in person and had missed the reception. She should have been there, celebrating with her best friend.

“Uh oh. I see upset Carly surfacing. What are you thinking about?” Birch asked.

“Nothing.” She wasn’t going to share her anger. This wasn’t Birch or Tanya’s fault, and her friend would be appalled when she found out what happened.

“I’m not going to push it, but I know you’re not being honest with me. I’ll let it go. If you ever want to talk about it, let me know. I’m willing to listen.”

She swallowed a lump of emotion. “Thanks. You promised food.” She clapped her hands in a let’s get going manner. “And more wine.”

“Right. I forgot the wine and cake in the truck. I’ll be right back.” The screen door slammed shut seconds later. She wandered to the fireplace to warm up. Despite the short ride in the heated truck, she was still chilled. The day that started blisteringly hot had turned cold and damp at some point.

A row of five by seven pictures lined the mantle. A family shot of Tanya, Birch, their brothers, and their parents in front of a mountain cabin, all of them holding skis. Another of them on a beach. There were a couple old black and whites of people who she assumed to be his great grandparents, and a shot of Birth with his maternal grandfather, who Carly had only a couple times. There were images of his younger twin brothers, Sage and Asher, side by side on horseback. There was a picture of him with Layla on a horse. There were no pictures of Tanya and her fiancé.

To her surprise, the central photo was one of her and Tanya laughing over a lopsided gingerbread house at his parents’ kitchen table. She had no idea the photo existed. Why did he have it here, among all the photos of his family?

He came back into the room and set the wine and cake on the end of the raised hearth.

“You have a picture of me, on your mantle.” For a second, she thought she saw color in his cheeks but he turned away too quickly to be sure.

“Not a photo of you,” he said, straightening the lone pillow on his couch. “I have a picture of my sister being very happy on my mantle. You just happen to be in it. I’ll grab some food.”

“I’ll help.” She followed him into the kitchen. Had she heard a hitch in his voice? An evasion? The kitchen table was a battered wrought iron bistro set. She laughed. “You call this a table?”

“It’ll be repainted and go on the deck eventually. I just needed something to eat on, and Mom and Dad had this one. It works. I couldn’t see rushing into a decision when I don’t know what I want.”

The kitchen gleamed. Pristine white cupboards lined the walls. There were more cabinets here than in her condo and her mother’s house combined. Only chefs had kitchens this big. She hopped up onto the marble countertop and watched him pull food from the fridge. “Nice room. Do you cook much?”

“I love to cook. It started as a way to get out of evening chores and turned into a passion. How about you? I know you make amazing pies.”

“Me, I get by. I’m no Ramsay for sure. But I don’t starve, and Layla likes what I make.”

“That’s the main thing. I thought you were going to help?” He winked.

“I was, but I decided to watch you instead. You’re kind of cute.” She nearly slapped a hand over her mouth at the unintended admission. “You know, cute in a you’re my best friend’s goofy brother sort of way.”

He set down a block of cheese and walked toward her. He stopped and slowly reached out to tug the lock of hair that hung messily over her ear courtesy of a grabby toddler. “And you, Carly Johnston are lovely, for an annoying friend of my sister.”

Before he dropped the curl, she grabbed his hand and pulled him closer. “Come here.”

He took a small step toward her. They were nearly mouth to mouth. She gave in to the urge that had plagued her since after her divorce when she saw him working shirtless in the yard. She licked her lips and leaned toward him.

He backed away and tapped her on the nose. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t try to kiss me. You’ve had too much wine, and not enough food.” He stepped back and returned to the fridge.

“Don’t you want to kiss me? Are you dating someone else? Is there a future Mrs.Birch, I don’t know about?” The words came out before she could stop them. Dang it, wine always loosened her tongue. This was why she didn’t drink.

“Stop with the doubts, Carly. There is nothing I want to do more than kiss you until you can’t speak. And no, there isn’t a future Mrs.Birch. Unless you’re applying for the job?” His voice rose at the end, turning his words into a question.

“I don’t even know you,” she blustered.

“Bullshit. We’ve known each other for six years. Maybe we don’t know the intimate details of each other’s lives, but we can change that. But first, the most important question, do you like pineapple on pizza?”

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