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“No skin off my nose, Chef.” Adrian paused for just a fraction too long before moving down the line to the last station.
“Do you regret it? Leaving New York to come with me, I mean.”
His head jerked up, the rest of him completely still. “No.”
“It’s not permanent. I know you went through a lot to come here. And I know you miss home,” Carly whispered, melancholy threading through her chest.
“We’ll go back when you’re ready. Until then, I’m good here.Capice?” Adrian’s eyes flickered over hers, his gaze gone before she could read it.
“Well. The dinner staff will be here in less than thirty. Let me grab the book and we’ll talk specials.” Her eyes rested on his for just a fraction of a second longer, but Adrian had slipped right back into business as usual.
Good. Business as usual was what Carly was made of.
But the memory of the phone call lingered like stale smoke, and as she headed for the office to grab the leather-bound notebook that held her handwritten recipes, it was the first time she could remember being in the kitchen when her mind was somewhere else.
* * *
Jackson tippedhis crew cut at his little brother, Dylan, who sauntered from the back porch onto the fresh carpet of green grass. The phrase “little brother” was rather ironic when the man in question was six-three and weighed in at a linebacker and a half. Then again, it wasn’t as if either of the Carter men could be labeled as anything other than pretty damn big. The expression “big brother” was actually fitting, considering Jackson out-shadowed his brother by a good inch.
“Hey, you want to tell Mom these are almost done?” Jackson gave one of the burgers on the ancient charcoal grill in front of him a nudge with a spatula. Another minute, and they’d be perfect.
His brother eyeballed the back of the house where they’d grown up and shook his head. “Are you kidding? I came out here toavoidthe conversation going on in that kitchen.”
“Come on.” Jackson laughed. “It can’t be that bad.”
“Autumn and Brooke are talking about breastfeeding. Which I have nothing against, because breastfeeding is perfectly natural,” Dylan said, and yeah, Jackson could totally fill in the blanks, here.
“But they’re our older sisters and any conversation involving their anatomy, no matterhowperfectly natural, is a little more than you bargained for?”
“Exactly.” Dylan passed over a bottle of Budweiser, still frosty from the fridge. He shifted his weight under the sunshine filtering through an umbrella of oak leaves.
“Guess we’ll let them finish that one up and get the kids settled,thentell them these are done.” Jackson popped the top off of his beer, and the bottle hissed in approval. “Damn, that sounds like summer,” he said, raising the bottle to his mouth.
“Whoa!” Dylan jerked his chin at Jackson’s upraised elbow. “That looks like it hurts. How’d you get it?”
Jackson lifted the bent limb a little higher for inspection. A bruise about the size and color of a plum bloomed just above his elbow joint. “Oh, that? It’s not so bad. And you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
His mind shifted to how he’d gotten the bruise—specifically, to the pretty brunette who’d sent him tumbling. Something about Jackson’s exchange with the fiery mystery woman had lingered with him all day, whispering to him enough to jostle his concentration.
Damn those white cotton panties. The way something so demure could cover up something so wicked was distracting as hell.
Also?Reallyfucking hot.
“Anyhow.” Jackson cleared his throat and pushed the image of the woman—and her underwear—from his mind. “These are done. I hope you’re hungry, little brother.”
Dylan fidgeted in uncharacteristic nervousness rather than moving toward the house. Any time a Carter man didn’t jump at the chance to eat, something was definitely wrong.
Jackson narrowed his eyes at his little brother. “What?”
“I’m getting married.”
A burger slipped off the plate in Jackson’s hand as it dipped in response to his shock. Otis, the family’s geriatric black Lab, loped over to take full advantage of Jackson’s party foul, while Jackson struggled to gather his wits.
“Get out of here!” he finally sputtered, still completely floored by Dylan’s admission.
An ear-to-ear grin spread over his brother’s face, paving the way for a creeping flush. “Yeah. I asked Kelsey last night. We’ve been together for a year, and…well, she’s the one. So, we’re getting married.”
“Congratulations, man.” Jackson slid the plate of burgers onto a rickety picnic table to clap his brother on the back. “Wow, my baby brother, getting married.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Wait a second…does Mom know?”
