Chapter 8 #3
“She needed to bring desserts.” The man shrugs, breaking our faux intimate eye contact.
So nonchalant, like he didn’t want to just keel over and die when his sister asked such a simple question.
“I made some brownies and took them up to the school. Callie asked if I wanted to stay for the party. How could I resist her?”
Blythe’s curiosity melts into a satisfied smile of acceptance just in time for their mom to round the corner with Nacho in tow.
“Honey, let your brother and his girlfriend actually come into the house.” Sandra wipes her hands on a towel before tossing it over her shoulder.
Rolling her eyes, Blythe makes her way to the couch, where she unceremoniously plops down beside her dad.
Nacho takes the liberty of unabashedly throwing herself across her couch mates. Twisting so she’s in the optimal position for belly rubs, Blythe’s black jeans and navy blouse instantly gain golden highlights from Nacho’s hair.
“I feel like I should be worried,” I whisper as Oliver guides me toward the kitchen.
“Why is that?” His breath is warm on my ear, sending shivers down my spine at the unexpected closeness. He must notice my brain malfunctioning, because he applies the smallest pressure from the arm still around my shoulder.
“Because of how good you are at this.” At making me feel like you care.
“Which part?” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. To the rest of his family, it’ll only look like he’s whispering some sweet nothing in my ear.
Giggling, I complete the look.
“Coming to help finish the dessert?” Oliver’s mom holds out a plate of sugar cookies ready for icing. “Don’t tell the others,” she winks at me.
Pressing my lips together, I glance up at Oliver, whose hand is already halfway to the plate.
Following suit, I bite into the most delicious sugar cookie I’ve ever eaten.
“This is incredible. No wonder Oliver can bake the way he does.” Gotta lay it on thick—especially since it’s true.
Other than the cookies he brought to my classroom the other day, these are the best cookies I’ve ever eaten.
“Well, there’s plenty of powdered sugar ready to be made into icing,” Sandra says, setting the plate on the counter. “Callie, do you bake much?”
I laugh. “I can cook decently enough, but it’s really a lot of guesswork,” I shrug,“and none of my plants have complained.” Oliver’s mom chuckles, causing my smile to widen. “With baking, you can’t quite get away with that same mentality. It’s much more specific.”
Sandra nods, smiling. “You’ll have to come by the shop sometime and cook with me. Anytime you like.”
“Mom,” Oliver interrupts.
“Wait, the shop?” Peeking up at Oliver, two and two become four. “Sandra’s Sammies,” I whisper, turning back to his mom, “you own Sandra’s Sammies.”
Sandra rolls her eyes, whacking Oliver with her handtowel.
“I can see you two have had some serious conversations.” Shaking her head, she beams at me.
“Yep, and you’re welcome there anytime. Now, you—”she points at Oliver“—you can make up for your lack of transparency with your girlfriend by icing these cookies.” Raising light brows at her son, Sandra shoots me one more wink before heading to check on her husband and daughter.
“Your family is incredible,” I say, voice low.
Oliver heads to the bowl of powdered sugar, stopping to grab milk from the fridge. “They are,” he nods, “but they’re especially happy that you’re here.”
Snorting, I lean a hip against the counter. “Considering Blythe repeatedly tried to get me to date you, it sounds like you could’ve brought home anything with a heartbeat and they’d be happy.”
“How long did she encourage, um, this?” he asks, voice just a little too casual.
Biting my bottom lip, I try to recall the first time it was mentioned.
“Back in April,” I nod, “she overheard me talking about going on a hike and said she had a brother who liked to hike, too, and would I want to take him with me. Apparently, he didn’t get out much.
” With almost no space between us, I can feel the laughter rumbling through his very warm body.
“That’s some ringing endorsement,” he grins. “What did you say?”
“That I only date lepers and pirates. But that was only my excuse the first time.”
“Wonderful,” he deadpans. “What others did you give?”
“Usually pretty generic ones. I had plans, wasn’t interested in dating anyone, may or may not be talking to someone,” I count on my fingers, “that kind of thing.” Glancing at all the sugar ready to be consumed, my mouth begins to water.
“Does your mom get some kind of special holiday sugar or something? Because that stuff smells incredible.”
“Wanna help?” He peeks over at me, holding up the bowl.
“I think I better.” At the confusion coating his features, I laugh. Sneakily angling my head toward the living area, I whisper, “We’re being watched. But I’m not sure what to do.”
A wolfish grin takes over his handsome features. “Then let me show you.” Out of nowhere, a fingertip glances off the tip of my nose, leaving a powdery trail in its wake down the side of my cheek. “That’s better,” Oliver declares proudly.
Smirking, I dip my fingers in the bowl as he gloats, making sure all ten fingers are ready. “You know, I think you have a little something right here.” Without warning, I take his face in my hands and pull him close, effectively getting the light powder all over his cheeks.
Oliver tips his head back, exuding light and laughter from every ounce of his being. But just as I try stepping out of his immediate proximity, one hand grabs my waist as the other tips my chin toward him.
Slipping my arm around him, my free hand falls to his shoulder.
Tender eyes trace my sugar-covered face. “Careful, Ms. Rutherford,” he murmurs, lips dangerously close to mine.
“Or what?”
“Or they’ll think we’re headed down the aisle any day now.”
Quirking a brow, a coy smile slides into place. “Isn’t that the idea?”
“Guess I just didn’t think you’d be this convincing.”
Feeling the blatant stares of the rest of the Rhodes clan, the next words out of my mouth shock us both. “I think you should kiss me now.”
Oliver recovers quickly, pressing perfectly sculpted lips to mine while his fingertips pull me as close to him as physically possible.
My hands take on a life of their own as they secure themselves around his neck. Returning the soft urgency in his kiss, I hold Oliver flush to me.
“When I pictured you dating my brother, I didn’t really imagine you two kissing in our parents’ kitchen. You know, where all the food is.” Blythe’s voice sounds from behind, startling me.
Heat rushes to my cheeks while my fake boyfriend looks cool as a cucumber. Clearly, his heart rate has maintained its normal pace.
How annoying.
Clearing my throat, I try to achieve some kind of equilibrium in my overstimulated nervous system. “So, Blythe, is Ian being nice?”
Oliver’s sister freezes for the smallest moment, hands full of cutlery headed to the table. “Huh? Oh, yep. He’s a great neighbor.”
“Good, I’d hate to have to tell his mother on him,” I joke.
Oliver raises a quizzical brow. “You know Ian’s parents?”
Blythe whirls around to face her brother. “You know Ian?”
My fake boyfriend’s brow furrows. “He’s Callie’s best friend. How do you know him?” Oliver squints at Blythe through powdered sugar-covered glasses that may or may not be fogged up from our kiss.
Awkward laughter bubbles from his sister as she nods. “Uh, right. Right. Well—”
“Let’s eat,” Marshall calls from the table.
Nacho barks in enthusiastic agreement, settling right by Mr. Rhodes’ seat at the table. If there was ever any doubt about who feeds her from the table, there sure isn’t anymore.
Blythe hurries to the table without another word while I shoot Oliver a questioning look. Holding out my hand, he wastes no time taking it and leading us to the table of my domestic dreams.
Only when everyone has more than enough to feed no less than six hobbits and I’ve heard countless stories about Oliver growing up, do I sit back from the table.
The deepest ache in my heart constricts my chest, knowing that I certainly got the easy end of this deal with the man sitting beside me.
I’ve spent the afternoon experiencing the warmth and kindness of a family who clearly adores him.
Oliver, on the other hand, gets to enter the middle of a storm that’s been brewing for twenty-seven years.
Sandra Rhodes, an astute woman, looks down the table to me. A loving smile waits on her kind face. “Callie, what do you think? Wanna come back again next year? Because I think I speak for everyone here when I say we’d love to have you.”
A chorus of agreement sounds from everyone in the room. Even Nacho.
A genuine smile spreads across my face as I take in the family surrounding me.
Each one is filled with so much joy and unconditional love for the others that it’s almost difficult to believe this kind of a family exists outside of dreams. Looking back at the mother I wish was my own, I answer honestly, “There’s nowhere I’d rather be. ”
“Speaking of,” Oliver glances at his watch, “time to face the wolves.”