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Eli smiled at the real reason they’d gathered here rather than Dad’s. Namely the open space in the warehouse was second to none. Plenty of room for an aisle. His smile endured as he took in his brother’s beautiful fiancée. She didn’t have a clue.
“Merry Christmas to you, too.” Rachel rose to her toes to kiss his cheek. “Good to see you smiling. I take it married life is treating you well?”
“She moved the silverware and the dishtowels and the coffee mugs.”
“It makes sense to have the dishtowels by the sink.” Isa, undeterred by his ever-present grumpiness, leaned in to hug Rachel. “You are wearing that dress.”
“Thank you.” Blonde Rachel did look amazing in the red frock. Tag had wedged his big shoulders into a crisp, white shirt, but he wasn’t wearing a tie or a jacket, even today. It was rare that the youngest Crane brother went to the trouble of dressing to the nines, but Eli had gone full-on tux. The least Tag could’ve done was dress his best on his—
“When’s the caterer arriving?” Tag asked, hand over his stomach. “I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.” Isa cocked one eyebrow. “And if by caterer, you mean Rhona, she’s running late but she’ll be here.”
“I begged her to let me help,” Rachel said. “She refused.”
“I talked her into letting us provide the wine. Since Eli and I honeymooned in Napa Valley and brought home enough bottles to stock the cellar twice over, she let me.” Isa winked at him and his heart leapt against his ribs in an effort to get closer to her.
Napa Valley had been beautiful and watching his wife’s features soften as they drank wine and took in the sunset had been another snapshot moment for him. So many good things had happened in a row, he’d begun sincerely thinking that the Man Upstairs was firmly Team Eli. There was no other way to explain the way every aspect of his life had come to heel to line up in a neat row. He didn’t throw around a word like “blessed” often, but if the prosthetic fit…
He’d turned one of the rooms upstairs into a wine cellar. (Uncommon, but since when were he or Isa known to be traditional?) Eli made use of the metal staircase often and had worked hard over the last few years to build the skill of walking up the stairs and back down. He’d recently replaced his prosthetic with a new one, and getting used to it was challenging. Isa was far more patient than him. Whenever he’d slip and swear, she’d simply say, “Try it again. You were close” and then blow him a kiss.
Incorrigible woman.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked, her own grin Cheshire-cat wide.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he answered, his voice more growly than usual. He had a proposition for her. A big one.
But now wasn’t the time.
