Page 65 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

“So, Will,” Dad says, swirling his whiskey in its glass as we stand in the family room, pictures covering the wall that I keep catching Will glancing at, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Talk to me about casks—the charring process, I’m fascinated by it. If you don’t mind, that is,” he adds.

The front door opens, and in walk Jamie and Bea.

“Did I hear someone asking about oak casks?” Jamie calls.

Bea’s eyes widen as she clocks Will, then snap to me. I give her a deer in the headlights look that she reads perfectly, smoothing her expression and pasting on a smile.

Jamie immediately jumps into the conversation with Dad and Will. I drop back and whisper to Bea, “They found us at the conservatory, and before you know it, Mom’s invited Will to dinner and he’s driving us home.”

Bea searches my eyes, looking for answers to fill in the missing pieces. But I don’t have them, at least, none that I’m ready to share. “The conservatory, huh?”

She doesn’t say it, but I know what she’s thinking.Awfully romantic.

I flash what I hope is a convincing smile. “Turns out, we both like flowers!”

Relief rushes through me when she doesn’t press me, doesn’t call me out. She just clasps my hand in hers and says, “How about we go set the table?”

The door opens again as we cross the entranceway, Christopher holding the door for Kate. “Did I miss setting the table?” Kate asks hopefully.

“Nope!” Bea and I call.

Kate’s shoulders droop. “Damn.”

Christopher laughs as she shuts the door behind her. “Go help them, you menace.”

She throws him a glare. “Youhelp.”

He grins, leans in, and kisses her cheek. “You and the gals do this. The guys and I will take dish duty after dinner, while you put your feet up and eat as much dessert as you want. How’s that sound?”

She tries to hold her squinty glare, but it falls, and a dreamy smile replaces it. “Fine,” she sighs.

Christopher steals one more kiss, this time on the lips—ew—and strolls off, joining the guys.

Kate gets one look at Will in the mix and immediately glances my way. “Um, what’s he—”

“Come on,” I tell her, taking her by the hand. “I’ll fill you in while we set the table.”

—

Somehow, dinner flows effortlessly. Will’s more reserved than Jamie and Christopher, but that’s to be expected. He’s new to the dynamic, and we’re a rowdy bunch. I remember when Jamie wasthat way, too, everything about him perfectly polished and tidy, sitting ramrod straight at the table, so painfully polite, when he and Bea were first together, and look at him now, elbows on the table, sleeves rolled up, hair mussed, cheeks flushed pink, as he laughs at something Dad says.

I catch Will’s eye and wink. He winks back, or at least, I think he tries to, but it’s more of a concerted, two-eyed blink.

I smile.

And then I feel the tiniest, painful pinch right in my heart. Because this evening feels so good, so right, I never want it to end.

But it will. And soon.

—

Arms across my chest, I walk out onto my parents’ porch, Will behind me, answering my parents’ calls good night and waving before he shuts the door behind him.

Facing me, Will blows out a breath. “Well. That was a curveball.”

I snort, rubbing my hands against my shoulders. The temperature’s dropped, and there’s a chill in the air that’s giving me goose bumps. “Ya think?”

“I’d say we managed that pretty well.”

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