23. Carolina
Chapter twenty-three
Carolina
T he weather worsened in the time it took us to drive over. Angry purple clouds chase each other across the rapidly darkening sky. I’m panting when I reach the top of the Craftsman house’s steps and stumble inside. Berg stops in the damn doorway to peel off his jacket and I run straight into his back, steadying myself by grabbing his thick waist. Before I can let go, he traps both my fists in one of his palms.
“See? This is why we’re here. I knew you’d be all over me.”
I melt against him.
“I distinctly remember that this whole arrangement is to keep your urges in check, Mr. MacMillan,” I whisper, pressing my cold cheek against the soft wool sweater that stretches over his warm, broad back .
It’s only us in the foyer, but Natalie and Louisa’s giggles aren’t far off.
“Move your hands about six inches lower, Caro, and you’ll feel how terrible of a job I’m doing at controlling my urges.”
I shudder even though a fire roars mere feet away, casting a rich glow over dark woodwork and sumptuous leather furniture. Berg clasps my hand, and tugs it down to the bulge in his jeans. It’s an instant reminder of how thick he felt between my legs. And that was with all our clothes on. He releases my hands only a moment before a swinging door opens into what I guess is a closed concept kitchen. Berg does a quarter turn to hide his arousal as Dean saunters out, raising his dark eyebrows for a moment. He offers a short wave and a poorly disguised smile before heading down a hallway.
“What did you tell him?” I hiss.
“Caro. If a woman shows up on a job site with a man’s lunch kit, people talk. Why do you think I tried to get rid of you so fast?”
My brother. That whole interaction makes so much sense now.
“C’mon.” He takes me by the hand and tugs me through the living room, letting go after a quick squeeze.
When Berg pushes open the same swinging door, the din of conversation rises in a chorus of hello’s. For a moment, I’m completely shielded from view by Berg who basically takes up the whole door frame. Then he moves, and for a millisecond the room goes quiet. You could almost miss the pause if you weren’t paying attention. But that moment is enough to remind me that I was only invited by one person here, and he isn’t the host.
My brother does a double take. “Caro?”
“Hey.” I lift a hand in an awkward wave.
“Don’t just stare at the girl,” Berg says, walking further into the large room that’s dominated by a long dining table.
“You must be confused, Berg,” Ashlyn replies, pulling down a wine glass off an open shelf. “Carolina is a woman .”
“Here, here,” Anna chimes in.
I bite my lip. If there’s one thing Berg isn’t confused about, it’s that. Happily accepting the wine with a smile, I try to relax. I’m not really a wine girl, or much of a drinker in general, but the deep red liquid is sweet and warm on my tongue and goes down way too easily. The moment of awkwardness passes and I find a spot at the table between Berg and Anna. Chris has one of the girls on each of his knees and he keeps giving me side-long glances. The men can’t resist talking about work so I tune them out. The rising price of lumber isn’t really at the top of my list of things to talk about at a party.
“You want another one?” Ashlyn gestures to my almost empty glass with the bottle.
Holy, that disappeared fast.
“Oh, I shouldn’t,” I start, before remembering that I don’t have to drive and it’s my weekend.
“Actually, I changed my mind. Yes, please.”
As I’m sipping, Anna tugs a tiny section of my hair .
“Come see me. I want to get my hands on these curls.” She holds up her palms like she’s barely resisting tousling my entire head.
I’m more than overdue for a cut. The last time I tried to trim some of the split ends myself I nearly went cross-eyed.
“That’s okay. I’m growing it out.”
Anna levels me with a look. “It’s grown.”
“Don’t worry,” Ashlyn says, sitting down for a moment with her own drink. “You’re not the only person she harasses about hair care. How are things at the bar?”
I perk up, excited to share that I’m doing something much more my own speed these days.
“Oh, I’m actually nannying for Berg now.”
He smiles at me encouragingly when I glance over, and there’s perhaps a hint of pride as he nods.
Chris coughs on a sip of his beer, patting his chest. “You’re doing what?”
“Na-nny-ing,” I break the syllables down for my brother who I know heard my simple sentence perfectly well.
“You’re not a nanny.”
“Am now,” I say.
“Yeah. Is now,” Berg quips, scooping a tortilla chip through a bowl of salsa and popping it into his mouth.
Dean clasps his hands beneath his chin, watching our exchange with raised eyebrows like it’s highly amusing. “Siblings. Am I right?” he says to nobody in particular.
“You’re an only child.” Isaac shakes his head at him .
Chris is still stuck on my news, though.
“What about school in September?”
Berg answers for me and I could kiss him right here. “What about it? That’s months away.”
Since my admission that I’m not actually registered for school, we’ve talked about it a fair bit. I told him about dropping out after my third year of my Psychology degree and how my grades dropped more and more with every exam. In fact, we’ve even spent some time looking at my options for the fall if I do decide to get my butt back into classes. He’s never pressured me to do one thing or the other, and I appreciate that more than he knows.
“Caro is the best,” Louisa says, grabbing her own chip and skipping the salsa.
I’m grateful for her interruption.
I stick my tongue out at my brother. “See, I’m the best.”
Berg shifts his right thigh so it presses against mine.
Anna slings her arm over my shoulder. “Caro is perfect for that job. Ash, you should have seen how she made sure Louisa was safe at her birthday party.”
Ashlyn pats the table a few times while she swallows a mouthful of wine and smiles warmly. “Oh my god, I forgot! No wonder Berg chose you.”
“I didn’t even know you were looking for a nanny,” says Isaac, pulling a tray of sizzling chicken from the oven when a timer beeps.
“I wasn’t. Not really. But it made perfect sense, especially after someone strong-armed me into taking on some more responsibility at work.”
“As long as you’re paying her.”
“Oh my god, Chris. Drop it. Of course he’s flipping paying me.”
Desperate to steer this conversation away from money, I turn to Anna. “I’ll make an appointment when I have some time.”
She claps her hands together. “Yes!”
I know full well that both Ashlyn and Anna work in their dream jobs. Ashlyn is establishing her own flower farm on the property this spring and Anna owns a beautiful salon downtown. In fact, she’s my mom’s stylist. These women are so kind, but it’s hard to not hate them a tiny bit when I think about their beautiful houses and their careers and their happy relationships. I’m less than a month into a new job and who knows what tomorrow will bring.
Everyone chips in to get the meal on the table. Louisa is setting the cutlery out, ensuring the kids get the tiny forks. Natalie makes an attempt at a swan napkin then announces that triangles are nice too. The girls must subscribe to Emily Post because they arrange us “boy, girl, boy, girl”. Maybe it’s the wine, or the delicious smells of the food, or Berg’s confession in his truck. But it’s easy for me to imagine that he and I are one of the real couples squished around the table.
** *
Ashlyn peers out the back door while the men do the dishes, worrying at the end of her braid.
“When the weather is better, I’ll give you a tour,” she sighs.
“I’d love that.”
“Hopefully there’s something left to show you.”
I can make out the edges of a greenhouse, and further off, a large out building that is the men’s office/workshop for the time being. During the meal Berg and Dean ran outside to secure some of the patio furniture skidding across the deck. Every time the overhead lights flickered while we ate, the girls froze, worried expressions on their faces.
“We should go,” Berg says from behind me and I’m in full agreement.
The only place to be on a night like this is tucked into your own bed.
“Thank you so much for letting me crash supper,” I say to Ashlyn as I zip up Louisa’s coat.
Ashlyn leans against the back of the leather couch next to Isaac. “You’re always welcome, Caro. Seriously.”
“Bye!”
I run ahead to open the truck doors, while Berg carries the girls, sheltered against his body from the driving rain.
“Thank you for bringing me along,” I say as we drive along the mostly empty roads.
“Glad you joined.”
“You know, since I'm not working at the bar anymore, it’s weird how I don’t talk to very many adults during the day. ”
“What? Louisa talking to you through her stuffed octopus isn’t stimulating enough conversation for you?”
I chuckle as he switches to an AM radio station that announces cancellations for all ferry sailings and worsening wind.
“So much for blowing over,” he says, his hands solid on the steering wheel, focused on the road ahead.