Chapter Three – Alfie #2
Alfie swallowed hard. There was no turning back now.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing his feet to move.
One step, then another, each one carrying him closer to his mate, who was standing next to Charlie.
The boy looked a little lost, overwhelmed by the other people, but then he noticed Alfie.
He smiled and tugged on Marion’s sleeve, pointing.
Alfie raised his hand, but then Alfie’s stomach dropped as he realized who Marion was talking to.
Finn.
This added an extra layer of complications since Finn did not know that he had made another matchmaking mix-up. Alfie’s mind raced. How was he going to explain showing up here? How was he going to act normal around his brother when every instinct screamed at him to pull Marion into his arms?
“Hi, Alfie!” Finn raised his hand as he saw his brother approaching, a clipboard tucked under one arm. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”
“Morning, Finn.” Alfie tore his gaze from his mate and glanced around, trying to look casual. “Quite the turnout.”
But he could not resist stealing another look at her. It was almost impossible to resist. Marion watched him, one hand resting protectively on Charlie’s shoulder.
“Yes!” Finn grinned widely as he looked around at the bustling crowd.
But then his brows tugged together, and he studied Alfie closely as his brother closed the distance between them, trying to act natural, even though it felt as if he had forgotten how to walk properly. “Everything okay at the garden center?”
“Yes,” Alfie replied bluntly.
“Marion was just telling me about the mix-up with the messages,” Finn went on, and there was something in his voice, a dawning suspicion that made Alfie’s pulse quicken.
“Yes, I was expecting Mary-Ann,” Alfie said, proud of how steady his voice sounded.
But instead, we got our mate, his bear roared inside his head. Which was not off-putting at all.
“I don’t know how it happened,” Finn said, not taking his eyes off his brother. The look was penetrating, and assessing, and Alfie had the uncomfortable feeling that his brother was putting pieces together far too quickly.
“No problem,” Marion replied, her voice carefully polite. “We enjoyed the garden center, didn’t we, Charlie?”
Charlie nodded, distractedly eyeing the other people surrounding them who were now beginning to organize themselves into work groups. “The butterflies were cool,” he offered absently, then seemed to remember Alfie was there and added, “Hi.”
“Hi, Charlie,” Alfie said gently, giving the boy a small smile before his attention was inevitably drawn back to Marion.
“Yes, a definite mix-up,” Finn said, glancing between Marion and Alfie with increasing interest. “Still, it all worked out in the end, didn’t it, Alfie?”
Alfie nodded. “It did.”
Was he that obvious? He could see that Finn suspected something. His brother’s eyes had taken on that sharp, calculating look he got when he was figuring out a particularly complex design problem.
“I didn’t know you were coming to the garden project,” Marion said, and there was a definite accusation in her voice. Her chin lifted slightly, a defensive gesture that made his bear whine.
“I...” Alfie began, scrambling for an explanation that wouldn’t make him sound like a stalker.
“I texted him,” Finn interrupted smoothly, though his eyes danced with barely suppressed amusement. “Asked him to bring some extra tools from the garden center. We’re short on trowels.”
Alfie shot his brother a grateful look, even as he knew he’d be paying for this favor later. Finn’s grin widened infinitesimally.
“Though I don’t see any tools,” Marion observed, her gaze flicking to Alfie’s empty hands.
“Oh,” Alfie said quickly. “I wanted to find Finn first, see where he needed them.”
It was a flimsy excuse, and from the skeptical arch of Marion’s eyebrow, she wasn’t entirely buying it. But Charlie tugged on her sleeve before she could pursue it further.
“Aunt Marion, can we start?”
“Of course,” she said finally. “Where do you want us, Finn?”
“I’ve assigned you plot twelve,” Finn said, consulting his clipboard with exaggerated professionalism. “It’s one of the sunnier spots, perfect for those tomatoes. Alfie, why don’t you show them where it is? I need to check on the group working on the irrigation system.”
Before anyone could protest, Finn strode away, calling out to someone about water pressure. But not before shooting Alfie a look that clearly said you owe me and we’re definitely talking about this later .
Alfie stood there, suddenly alone with Marion and Charlie, the morning sun warming his back and his mate within arm’s reach. His bear practically purred.
“Plot twelve?” Marion prompted, her tone carefully neutral.
“This way,” Alfie said, gesturing toward the eastern side of the garden.
As they walked, he kept a careful distance, hyperaware of every movement Marion made.
The way she kept Charlie close, how her eyes tracked the other families working nearby, the tension in her shoulders that spoke of someone stuck in fight-or-flight mode.
“So,” she said as they reached the freshly tilled plot marked with a wooden stake labeled ’12.’ “Tools?”
Heat crept up Alfie’s neck. “Right. I should go get those.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Marion set down the bag she’d been carrying and pulled out some gardening gloves. “Charlie, honey, can you start clearing those little rocks from the soil?”
Charlie dropped to his knees eagerly, apparently happy to have a task. Marion straightened, fixing Alfie with a look that made him feel like a butterfly pinned to a board.
“You don’t have any tools in your truck, do you?”
The question was soft, almost conversational, but there was steel underneath it. This was a woman used to people disappointing her, and lying to her. A woman protecting not just herself but the precious boy now humming tunelessly as he picked stones from the dirt.
Tell her the truth, his bear urged.
“No,” Alfie admitted, the word escaping before he could think better of it. “I don’t.”
“So, why exactly are you here?” Marion folded her arms across her body as if trying to put a physical barrier between them.
One he planned to break down piece by piece. But first, he had to know why she felt she needed the barrier at all.
And that would take time. And patience.
And for once, his bear agreed.