Page 138 of Banter & Blushes

She leaned out the door and laughed. “Quint! Inside, boy!” she called. Looking at Beck, she shook her head. “He will not be happy if one of those spicy flies stings him.”

Quint halted abruptly, his ears twitching at Caroline’s voice drifting through the garden. The bees he’d been pursuing buzzed on, forgotten, as he turned towards her call. With his tongue lolling out and a gleeful wag of his tail, he bounded across the yard, paws thudding against the ground, as he made a beeline for the porch where Caroline stood waiting with open arms.

“There you are,” Caroline cooed, bending down to scratch his head. “Did you come for a playdate, too?” Quint gave an enthusiastic woof, and she stepped back to let both inside, where the aroma of olive oil and garlic lingered in the air.

“Instead of casserole, I made actual food,” she said. “Hope you can handle it.”

“Does it go with Bluebell’s best microbrew?” he asked, holding up the beer.

“Everything goes with Bluebell’s best microbrew.”

Beck had braced himself for a house decorated in a riot of color. He imagined flamingo-printed wallpaper clinging to the walls, or whimsical throw pillows shaped like seashells scattered across a plush sofa.What he got instead was …sterile. The living room was an immaculate expanse of white walls, devoid of any artwork or personal touches. Furniture, a uniform shade of beige, sat rigidly in place, and not a single knickknack interrupted the stark cleanliness. He spied a few framed photos scattered about, but nothing personal. The air was tinged with the faint, sharp scent of lemon cleaner, a far cry from the warm, welcoming aroma he associated with Caroline.

Quint padded gingerly across the spotless hardwood floor. Beck set his beer down gently on the kitchen island, made from polished quartz, naturally. He glanced around once more, taking in the pristine emptiness.

“Did I miss the open house? Or do you live in a Pottery Barn catalog?”

Caroline’s response was a tight-lipped smile, her eyes focused on pulling plates from a drawer which seemed as if it had never been opened before.

“It’s functional,” she replied, her voice carrying a note of finality.

He nodded slowly, absorbing the stark contrast between the house’s decor and Caroline’s lively personality. For someone with such a booming laugh and grand, imaginative ideas, the space felt hollow, echoing with unspoken emptiness.

Even though it might not have been his concern, Beck couldn’t stop wondering if emptiness was the real Caroline, and she was simply hoping for someone to help fill it with life?

“Are you hungry, Beckett?” she called over her shoulder, as she went to place the plates on the table.

“Starving,” he answered, trying to wrangle Quint into a sit. “Down, Quint.” Beck gently pressed the dog’s back down. Quint barked and lunged into the air. “What is going on with you, boy?”

“Pea probably came downstairs.”

“Pea?”

“My cat.” Caroline walked over to the stairs where a black cat lounged watching them with disdain. “I’ll put her in the bedroom. You can put Quint outside. Just make sure the fence around the pool is closed.”

“Why do you call her Pea?”

“After the Black-eyed Peas.”

“And you gave me grief about naming my dog after a movie character.” Beck watched as Caroline picked up the cat and kissed her on the head, snuggling the animal into her arms as they headed upstairs. “I think I’m jealous of a cat,” he told Quint. “Outside, mister.”

He opened the back door and let the dog loose in the fenced area behind the house. The pool was an oval expanse of turquoise, surrounded by a shorter version of the privacy fence. Quint rushed to the fence and barked at the water through the slats. Beck shook his head with fond exasperation. The dog seemed content to chase ripples and shadows, so he stepped back inside and closed the slider behind him. There was plenty of grass and bushes to explore on the other side of the pool. Quint would be fine.

The aroma of Caroline’s cooking was enough to make his mouth water. Ithad been years since he’d enjoyed a home-cooked meal, aside from the casseroles Gigi or Mabel occasionally brought over. The dinner Caroline was preparing smelled more delicious than any takeout from a restaurant.

As he headed back to the kitchen, his gaze fell upon the dining table, elegantly set with oversized linen napkins, and an array of forks outnumbering his knowledge of their specific uses. Even during his time mingling among the elite in D.C., Beck had skillfully avoided the dinner party scene at all costs. He could handle a quick drink and an appetizer with ease, and he was perfectly at home at a casual barbecue where egos might be inflated, but ties were loosened. However, the prospect of wearing a penguin suit and navigating a place setting with over two forks was enough for Beck to find a discreet exit strategy.

A timer dinged in the kitchen, and he made his way back. He couldn’t see anything needing to be attended to on the stove, so he checked the oven to find garlic bread warming on the top rack.

Just as he placed the baking sheet on the stove and turned off the oven, he heard Caroline’s soft footsteps approach. She entered the kitchen, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. “Is he okay out there?”

“First thing he wanted to do was jump in the pool.”

Her melodious laughter rang out, hitting him in the heart. He longed to make her laugh so he could hear it again. “Gate closed?” Beck nodded. “There’s plenty of room out there and nothing he can get into.”

“He’ll probably find something.” His arms reached out and met her halfway, wrapping around her in an embrace both spontaneous and natural. Just as Beck was about to pull away, he felt her pressing closer, so he tightened his grip, holding her a second longer than he planned.

“Careful,” she said, her voice a breathy mix of warning and good humor. She pulled back and looked at him with eyes the same color as the bluebells growing along the highways leading towards the beach. “I might start thinking you missed being with me, especially is you imagine what I’m wearing after hours.”

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