Page 77 of Mad About Yule

She laughs, nudging me with an elbow. “I think we’re past that. You seem to have forgotten your teen years.”

I frown, pressing two dough balls into a muffin tin. “We don’t need to rehash that.”

“You grew through it. I think you’re doing all right.”

I like to think so. I still don’t love authority figures, and tend to ask more questions than I answer, but I’ve lost that teenage rebellious streak. I’d put Mom and Dad through more than they deserved, but their patience never wavered, even if I’d sometimes taken Dad’s to its limits.

“I haven’t even set any fires lately.”

If Hope’s claim to fame is her run as Homecoming Queen, mine is that one bonfire that got away from me. It’d taken years before I stopped hearing about that on the daily. Coming back to town has just reminded everyone to mention it again.

“A little spark’s not a bad thing.” She hums to herself, rolling balls of dough between her hands. “How are things going with Hope?”

More than a little spark.But after her plea to keep things between us quiet, I can’t say anything to Mom. I’m not the chattiest about my personal life on a normal day, but the reminder sits heavily in my gut.

I might be a private guy, but that doesn’t mean I’m asecretguy.

“We’ll have everything ready for next Friday. Be prepared to rock around that Christmas tree.”

She smiles, but I get the feeling that’s not the kind of update she was hoping to hear. Have I been that obvious? I’ve barely mentioned Hope. But Mom’s side-eye speaks volumes, and I’m not prepared to crack open that book.

“What do you want for Christmas?” I ask instead.

“Oh, probably anything from The Painted Daisy. You can’t go wrong in there.”

“I’ll write you down for a little ceramic moose then.”

She doesn’t look at me this time, but her smile grows wider. Because apparently Iamthat obvious—I just admitted that one, I’ve been inside Hope’s store, and two, I actually paid enough attention to know what she sells. I might as well recite a poem about how good she smells, and just get it all out there at once.

Caleb walks in before I can reveal anything else incriminating.

“Guess who asked me to confirm that his patio is level for the fourth time?”

I groan, glad that man doesn’t have my number. Mr. Lang hired us to install an elaborate herringbone patio when we renovated his back yard over the summer, and he hasn’t stopped calling about it since. Caleb’s design blends perfectly with the surrounding hillside, and our crew did a fantastic job on the hardscape and the plantings, but Mr. Lang is convinced the patio slopes.

“I brought out the laser level and showed him with string ties, but he still has his doubts.”

“Better you than me.” That’s why I like having a buffer between me and the customer. I need someone else to deal with all the pointless little calls. As I’d proven pretty thoroughly the few times they’d sent me out to deal with things like that.

“Better get ready. After this baby comes, I’m taking two months off, andyou’llbe the one crawling around on pavers trying to prove a point.”

I focus on rolling the last of the dough into balls. I should be relieved I’ll have some breathing room at the first of the year, but his reminder makes my chest tighten like the kitchen walls are shrinking around me. The responsibilities aren’t the problem, but I can’t—or don’t really want to—define exactly what is.

“How’s woozy doing in there?” I give him a hard time about how he’s turned into a mother hen, but I care about Rowan’s health, too. I wouldn’t joke around if she was really dealing with something serious.

“Resting. She’s been getting light-headed more often lately, but the doctor says it’s normal at this stage. I still don’t like it.”

“I’d be more worried about her stomach.”

Caleb is suddenlyrightbehind me. “What about her stomach?”

His voice is a low-key threat. I shouldn’t poke the papa bear, but I’ve never been great at laying off my big brother. I see an opening, I take it. I just didn’t mean it the way he’s taking it.

“It could be a symptom from eating that teeny tiny fish you caught her on Saturday.”

He exhales a laugh and moves away from me, threat averted. “Yours wasn’t any bigger.”

“It was bigger.”

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