“Shania hasn’t stopped talking about meeting another fan of the Hidden Clues Club. The way she’s carried on and on, I almost want to read it myself.” She chuckles, her cheeks blooming red.
“You should. You can still enjoy it as an adult.”
“Right. In my spare time, I’ll get right on it.”
“Which will be never,” Beckett explains. “The woman doesn’t know the meaning of ‘free time’ or rest, nor can she read.”
Heidi swats his arm. “Icanread. I choose not to.”
“It’s iffy at best.” Beckett makes a so-so motion with his hand. The playful sibling banter is adorable.
I only have Clem, and being a twin has its unique circumstances, but I never wanted a brother. Not for any other reason than Mom and Dad’s attention was hard enough to come by. Having to share with another sibling—brother or sister—would have been tough.
“Shut it, Elfie, or I’ll spill all your embarrassing stories to Willa while you and Lenny bring down the boxes from the attic.”
“Actually,” Lenny butts in, “you’ve got to check on dinner so it’s set for the guests if you want to be on time for your parents’ tonight.” An unspoken conversation happens between the two of them, and she huffs.
“Fine. Only because of the thing.” She winks at her husbandand brushes a kiss on his cheek. It’s easy to see the love shared between the two of them. “Come with me, Willa. I want to know all the things.”
“Uh . . .”
Before she can lead me away, Beckett leans next to my ear. “If you get uncomfortable, bring up Taylor Swift. She won’t be able to shut up.” He pauses, scratching his head, almost stalling. I try to conjure what he might be thinking. “She’s going to ask if there’s something going on between us. So we’re on the same page, what are you going to tell her?”
My heart flutters. I hate being put on the spot. More so about something of this magnitude, something I should have expected to come up.
In the long run, does it matter if his family knows we’re intimate? For Beckett’s sake, it might. He’s the one who has to deal with them once I leave.
I toss it to him. “What do you want me to say?”
“It’ll be hard to lie to my family, to keep my hands to myself, to pretend I haven’t licked every inch of your skin from head to toe.”
The mouth on this man. Goose bumps pepper my skin.
“I’m not the one who will have the questions to answer after I leave. So it’s up to you.”
In pure Beckett fashion, instead of respondingwith words, he leaves a kiss on the top of my head.
“Okay, let’s get to moving boxes.”
Once the guys are out of earshot, it takes Heidi less than three seconds to say, “So, you and my brother.” There’s little emotion attached to her statement, and I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.
“I blame the snowstorm for making me stir-crazy and falling into bed with him.”
She nods, accepting the half-truth. “I’d be willing to bet the same’s not true for him. Especially after what Meredith told me.”She doesn’t elaborate, forcing me to follow her to the kitchen at the back of the house.
Though I spend zero time in kitchens, I’m wowed the moment I step into it. It’s large, modern, and welcoming. There’s a lot of white—cabinets, counters, drawers, the backsplash tile—with accents of gray on the lower half of the island where four stools offer seats. A huge Viking stove takes up most of one wall with one of those faucets mounted off to the side. Clem would know what they’re called. The white farmhouse sink is kitty-cornered across from the island.
My eyes travel around the room, taking in the expansive picture windows with a window seat along it presenting a view of the backyard. It’s covered in a layer of snow from the storm, but it seems to go for a bit before butting up against woods. There’s a door to what I assume is a pantry—probably much bigger than Beckett’s if I had to guess—and a doorway on the far wall leads to a communal dining area. Completing the look are high ceilings with wood-exposed beams and a rustic wooden floor. It’s every chef’s dream.
“This is a beautiful kitchen.”
Heidi beams. “Thank you. We renovated it about three years ago. Next year, we’ll start on the one at our other B and B to match. Though if not done before the baby comes, it’ll be stupid to start so late in the year with not enough time before the holidays. So maybe it’s a project for the year after that.”
“Congrats.”
Her forehead furrows. “On a kitchen?”
“On the baby?” I swear she mentioned baby. Did I hear her incorrectly?
