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She couldn’t contain her smile or her enthusiasm, though. They were finally going to get more than ten minutes alone with each other.
She yanked a double door open and her heart launched into her throat.
Scout was causally leaning against the frame, his shoulder to the wood. He wore his leather jacket, faded jeans, hiking boots and his signature cocky grin. His dark-blond hair was unruly and peppered with snowflakes.
Lifting a hand, he showed her a six-pack of Stella Artois.
“What’s in the hand behind your back?” she asked.
He shoved away from the doorframe and offered her a wrapped arrangement of sienna-colored daisies. “Sorry I’m running late.”
“I told you it was no problem when you texted. But I’ll take the flowers, anyway.”
“Slim pickings over at Artie’s Groceries. That was the best I could manage.”
“They’re beautiful.” She kissed his cheek. “Besides, I all but cleaned out the florist who supplies Artie’s bouquets, so it’s my own fault. Now, close the door. I’m freezing.”
“Then you’re in luck that I’m here to warm you up.”
“And you’re in luck that the pizza just arrived. Piping hot.”
They traveled the wide corridor. Scout asked, “You remembered the black olives?”
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Of course I remembered the black olives. Fully loaded deep dish with all the veggies, pepperoni and spicy Italian sausage. I bought the large, guessing you’d be starving by now. I swear it’s heavy enough to sink the Mayflower.”
They plopped down in front of the coffee table situated before a fireplace with a flat screen mounted above the mantel. Scout slipped out of his jacket, then popped the top off a Stella as Ciara threw pack the lid of the pizza box and served up a slice to him while he handed over the beer.
They dug in, no need for words at the moment. Ciara was only good for one monstrous slice, but she let Scout enjoy a second one before she said, “You planned your arrival well. It’s halftime.”
“I really did intend to be here at the start of the game.”
“No worries. I just had Venti’s hold off on making the pie and sending it over.”
Scout sucked down some beer, then asked, “Did you know about Henry and my mom? Their engagement?”
“The ladies made mention of the two of them seeing each other. That it might be serious. From what I hear, it’s all been very hush-hush. Likely while Catherine gets more comfortable with Henry’s reputation.”
“That man had better not cheat on my mother.”
Ciara smiled. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
Scout wiped his hands with a couple paper napkins and stood. Pacing in front of the fireplace, he said, “I’m way too out of touch with my family. I didn’t know my mom was dating. I have no idea what’s going on with JT right now, but he’s been a bit mysterious. Hamilton… Well. Shit. Ham’s got his own problems. Big problems.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah,” Scout said as he rubbed the back of his neck, as though it were knotted with tension. “He’s not sick or anything. Not destitute. Shit, I think he’s got more money than me in the bank. He just has his hands full at the moment. Lots of decisions to ma
ke. That’s why I’m late. Ham stopped into Waylon’s while Coach E. and I were playing cards. He needed some big-brother advice.”
Ciara smiled. “Aw, now that’s cool. Doesn’t matter how long you guys go without seeing each other, you are still brothers. You still need one another.”
“Ironic, really, because I could use a lengthy chat with JT.”
Her head cocked to the side. “Everything okay with you?”
He stopped pacing. Dropped his hand and planted them both on his waist as he faced her. “I think we’re selling the cabin.”
“What?!” Ciara leapt to her feet. “Oh, my God! How can you even say that?”
