Chapter 6

“Seriously? Your brother broke the news via text?” I walked to my car, happy to have the distraction of a call from Jamie. To say I’d had a long day was a bit of an understatement. No big events, but honestly, the small ones were sometimes more annoying. More nitpicking with less payout. The brunch for the local DAR group that filled my morning was bad enough, but then the afternoon brought in a soccer-team-sized group of six-year-olds. For tea. With their dolls. Never mind the fact that dolls don’t drink. Or talk. Or eat teeny, tiny pastries sitting on teeny, tiny plates. I mean, sure. If the pastries are paid for, it shouldn’t matter whether they are actually enjoyed or just pretend enjoyed. But it was still annoying. Add the day’s pressures to two weeks of almost endless working with very little dating time, and Jamie’s voice on the phone was the greatest thing I’d heard all day.

“Texting is how we communicate.”

“Like cavemen?”

“No, like four brothers who are busy and wouldn’t talk near as much otherwise. We’ve had the same group thread for years. Don’t knock it.”

“I’m not going to argue against the ease of communicating via text message.” I unlocked my car and climbed in. “But come on. A mission call? That at least deserves an in-person announcement.”

“But then the moment wouldn’t be documented. All the big stuff has happened in that thread.”

“Like what?” I shifted over to speaker and dropped the phone onto my lap, then started the car.

“Like Dave’s engagement. Or the day we hit a million sales on the app. Or . . . Simon’s house.”

“His house?”

“Yeah. He’s a bona fide homeowner. The real deal.”

“How grown-up.”

“That’s Simon for you.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “So, you want to come help us celebrate tonight? Just the brothers. And Katie will be there too. It’d be nice for you to finally meet her.” Even with all the time I’d spent with the brothers, helping out at the soccer clinic, I still hadn’t met Dave’s fiancée.

“What about your parents? Don’t they get to celebrate too?”

“They’ll get their turn when Coop goes home. It’s our turn. Come on. It’ll be fun. Dave’s grilling rib eyes.”

“You had me at grilling. Count me in.”

“Dinner’s at seven. I’ll text you the address.”

I glanced at my watch. 5:42. If I hurried, I’d have time to go home and change before heading over.

Granny Grace was on the porch when I pulled up to the house. She waited for me, holding her hand up to shield her eyes against the bright afternoon sun. I walked over and gave her a hug. “Hi, Granny Grace.”

She patted my hair. “I haven’t seen you in a while. That job working you too hard?”

“Most days. I love it though. I don’t mind the work.”

“You feel like you’re settling in?”

“It’s only been a few weeks, but I’m getting the hang of it. What are you doing out here? It’s so hot.”

“Just watering the flowers. You hungry? It’s too hot to cook, but I can make you a sandwich.”

“Actually, I have dinner plans.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Man dinner plans?”

The word man coincided with a twitch of her hips that made me laugh out loud. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m just asking a question.”

“Yes. Man dinner plans. His name is Jamie.”

She lowered herself onto the small wicker couch pushed up under the front window and motioned for me to join her. It was out of the sun at least. “Is he a Mormon like you?”

I nodded. “He is.”

“That’s good. Is he nice?”

“He’s very nice. He’s a soccer player, Granny. Also like me.”

“Does he make a good living?”

It made me laugh that dinner plans were enough to elicit so many questions. “He works in technology and makes a very nice living.”

She nodded her approval. “Well, if dinner goes well, you bring him around for supper. I’ll make a meat loaf and some potatoes.”

“I think he’d like that.” I stood. “Hey, I have to work Saturday night—the inn is hosting a Fourth of July thing—but I’ll have some free time in the morning. Want me to help in the garden?”

“The first crop of beans will be in by then. You up to pickin’?”

I’d always loved working in Granny Grace’s garden. The idea that with a little bit of water and sun we could grow actual things and then eat them had amazed my child mind. As I got older, I realized more of the struggle it was to keep things thriving. Gardening wasn’t just water and sun. It was work. Not enough rain, too much rain, pests, disease, critters that snuck in and damaged the vegetables. Granny Grace once told me, “The battle never ends, Lane. There is bounty waiting if you’re willing to work, but nothing comes from nothing.” I’d remembered that mantra many times since then. Nothing comes from nothing. “I’m up for it,” I told her.

She nodded. “I’ll start early, before the sun gets too high.”

“How early is early?”

She gave me a sideways glance. “Just come on out when you wake up. Squash beetles are easiest to find mid- to late morning, so whatever time it is, there should be something to keep you busy.”

I frowned. As a kid, she’d paid me a penny for every squash beetle I’d picked off her beans. It had made the work worth it back then, but I wasn’t sure sleeping in was worth getting stuck with the job now. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be up early.”

“Enjoy that dinner of yours. Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want to tell me about.”

I laughed. “That’ll never work with you, Granny. You like the dirty stuff the best.”

She cackled. “That I do. That I do.”

* * *

It was fifteen minutes after seven when I finally made it to Dave and Jamie’s house. I’d had a slight wardrobe crisis, and my hair was uncooperative, issues I was still working to let go of when I walked up their sidewalk and rang the doorbell.

Chloe answered the door. Chloe? Okay, so she didn’t actually answer it. It was more like she opened it, then barreled into me to give me a hug, pulling the door shut behind her. “Lane! It’s so good to see you! How are you?”

I took a step backward, creating a normal-person measure of distance between us. “I’m good. How are you?”

“Totally swamped. I just started summer classes, and it’s killing me. So what’s up? What are you doing here?”

“Just having dinner with Jamie. I guess Cooper got his mission call today, so we’re celebrating.”

She grinned. “You and Jamie. So you actually managed it.”

I shook my head and held up my hands. “I didn’t manage anything. I gave him my number, he called me, we’re dating. It’s really not all that exciting.”

She sighed. “It’s totally exciting. You landed the big fish, Lane. It’s a big deal.”

It wasn’t a big deal. It really, really wasn’t. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a tiny thrill of victory at her words. I was dating an untouchable brother—a guy no girl in all of North Carolina’s Research Triangle had managed to snag until now. It wasn’t a competition, but I still liked feeling a little like I’d won.

“It’s not a big deal, Chloe. I’m not . . .”

“Is he a good kisser? I bet he’s a good kisser.”

My eyebrows went up.

“Wait. No. You don’t have to answer that. That was totally rude. He is though, right? I’m just really guessing he probably is.”

Before I could respond, Jamie thankfully pushed open the front door. “Hey, Lane. You’re here.” He stepped outside and slipped an arm around my waist. He looked at Chloe. “Oh, hey, Chloe. What are you doing here?”

“I brought cookies over to congratulate Cooper.”

“Oh. Cool,” Jamie said. “Do you want to stay and eat dinner with us? Dave’s grilling.”

I could see from Chloe’s expression what it meant to her that she’d been invited, but her elation quickly morphed into a frown. “I so wish I could!” She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. “I have class in forty-five minutes.” She leaned forward to hug me one more time. “Seriously though,” she whispered in my ear. “The two of you. It’s so perfect!”

We watched as she hurried to her car and pulled down the drive, waving before she turned and disappeared from view. I followed Jamie inside, stopping at the entry table where Chloe had left her plate of African-shaped cookies. I picked one up, careful not to smudge the icing that lined the continent and highlighted the region where Cooper would be serving. “Wow,” I said. “She had a busy afternoon.”

“That’s Chloe for you,” Jamie said. “She’s always doing stuff like this.”

“I think maybe she has a little bit of a crush on you.”

He lifted his shoulders in a playful shrug. “Who doesn’t?”

I rolled my eyes. He was ridiculous. He put his hands on either side of my waist, pulling me toward him. Ridiculous, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the feel of my body pressed against his. He leaned in for a kiss but froze inches from my face when his brother called to him from the kitchen.

“Jamie? Where are you?” Dave yelled.

Jamie frowned. “Seriously? I’ve been gone twenty seconds.”

I grinned. “Come on. I want to meet Katie.”

“Hey, Lane,” Dave said when we entered the kitchen. “I’m glad you’re here. You can help too.” He grabbed a couple of spoons out of a drawer to the left of the stove and dipped them into the saucepan sitting on the front burner. A woman I assumed had to be Katie stood beside him. Her straight brown hair was piled high on top of her head, and she wore a striped apron that made her look as if she belonged in the kitchen. It almost made me wish I liked to cook. Almost.

“Don’t make them taste it,” Katie said. “It’s fine.”

“Taste what?” Jamie asked.

“Whatever it is, it smells delicious,” I said.

“Here.” Dave handed us each a spoon. “It’s caramel sauce for the bread pudding. She says it needs something, but we can’t figure out what.”

I took the spoon and blew on the still-steaming sauce, my hand cupped underneath in case it dripped.

Jamie swallowed his down and tossed his spoon into the sink. “Tastes good to me.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Says the guy who thinks Cocoa Puffs make a good dessert. Lane? What do you think?”

I tasted the now-cool sauce, holding it on my tongue long enough to really get the flavor. “I’m not a chef by any stretch,” I said, “but I think maybe it needs a little more salt.”

“Salt!” Katie said. “I forgot the salt!” She reached into a cabinet over the sink and pulled out the salt shaker. “Thank you,” she said to me over her shoulder. “I can’t believe I forgot something so simple. I’m Katie,” she added.

“Oh, right,” Dave said. “Sorry. Katie, Lane. Lane, Katie.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” I said. Jamie leaned against the counter next to his brother. For a split second, I recognized how much the two of them looked alike. They weren’t identical by any stretch, but if they dressed the same and fixed their hair the same way, they might be able to convince people they were. Jamie was slightly taller and a little broader through the shoulders. And Dave wore his beard trimmed close. But their eyes were the same—a deep-chocolate brown. And the way they held themselves was exactly the same. It was a little disconcerting.

“Do you want us to stand side by side? Give you profile shots for comparison?” Dave asked.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

Katie set her wooden spoon on the stove and turned around. “Once, when Dave and I first started dating, I saw Dave standing in the hallway at church and waltzed right up, lacing my arm through his, and snuggled up close. Only it was Jamie. I’ve never been so horrified.”

“Serves you right,” Dave said. “The number of times you and Jane messed with guys growing up.”

She grinned. “Ah, those were the days.”

Ha. I liked her already. “I loved your cheesecake,” I said. “It was really delicious.”

She wrinkled her brow for a moment, then glared at Jamie. “So that’s why you stole so much cheesecake! You were going to see Lane.”

“Busted. But it was for a worthy cause, Kate. I fed her good food, and she agreed to go out with me again.” Jamie moved closer. “Thanks for blowing my cover,” he whispered in my ear.

“Anytime,” I whispered back.

“It’s all right,” Dave said. “Everyone understands Jamie needs all the help he can get when it comes to women.”

“I’m a man who has accepted his limitations,” Jamie said. “I do the best I can with what I’ve got.”

I rolled my eyes for the second time that night. What he had was enough to make him the talk of every Mormon singles group for a hundred miles in three different directions. “I admit the food helped your wooing,” I said, “but the soccer is what sealed the deal for me.”

“Got it. So you like dating someone you can wipe the floor with,” Dave said, a big smile on his face.

“Watch it,” Jamie said. “She wiped the floor with you too.”

“Floor wiping not required,” I said. “I just like a man who loves the game like I do. Besides, that day was mostly luck.”

“That wasn’t luck,” Dave said. “It was sheer brilliance and skill.”

“We’ll see about that next Thursday,” Jamie said with a huff. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I might have been making it up, but he actually sounded a tiny bit annoyed. Not pretend annoyed, but legitimately bothered.

“What’s happening on Thursday?” Katie asked.

“A rematch,” Jamie said, his arms folded tightly across his chest. “Next week, after the last clinic.”

Truth? I’d been avoiding the idea of a rematch. On purpose. The first couple times Jamie talked about it, it was fun and flirty and seemed like it wouldn’t matter. But then he got a little more serious. Like the outcome was really important. Like he wanted to beat me just to prove he could. It was a little unsettling. I understood competition. I’d carried the title of most competitive ever on the planet my entire high school and college soccer careers. But this was different. Jamie and I were dating. And I had no idea how the outcome of a rematch, whether I won or lost, would affect our relationship. The fact that I even had to wonder had me worried.

“Sounds exciting,” Katie said. “Who’s playing? Should I bring popcorn?”

“We’re still working on the teams,” Jamie said.

“You should let Lane have Simon,” Dave said. “He’s the strongest player next to you. That way when she wins, you’ll be able to nurse your ego with the fact that her winning was probably because of him.”

“She should have Simon on her team,” Jamie said, “so that when I win, I’ll rest easy knowing it was an absolutely fair match up.”

“Such a sweet-talker,” Dave said. “I can tell your girlfriend is putty in your hands right now.”

“She can handle it,” Jamie shot back. “She’s the one who started this whole competition in the first place.”

Two things battled for space in my brain: One, Jamie hadn’t even flinched when his brother had called me his girlfriend. And two, was he sure I could handle it? ’Cause he was kinda freaking me out a little. His playful banter had an undercurrent of serious even I didn’t like. And that was saying something.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think for the health of our relationship we might need to stay off the soccer field.”

He dropped an arm over my shoulder. “Are you really worried about that?”

“She’s met you, Jamie,” Dave said. “She has every reason to be worried.”

Katie clapped her hands. “Enough soccer talk. Where’d Cooper sneak off to? And where is Simon?”

“I’m right here,” Simon said from the doorway. He set a briefcase onto the floor. “Sorry. I came straight from a meeting. Cooper’s on the front porch with a plate of cookies.”

“Alone?” Katie asked.

Simon nodded. “He’s on the phone.”

“Not anymore. I’m back.” Cooper appeared in the doorway behind Simon, throwing his arm over his brother’s shoulders. “Just another lady friend calling to congratulate me and say they’ll write me while I’m gone. Ah, the ladies. They can’t help themselves.”

Simon grabbed Cooper’s arm and pulled, twisting his body so that in a matter of seconds he had the youngest Hamilton brother in a headlock. Cooper grunted and tried to pull free, but Simon was a few inches taller and wider through the chest. “If only the ladies could see you now.”

“You’re just jealous.” Cooper’s voice was strangled and tight. “’Cause no girls ever pay you any attention.”

Simon finally let him go. “I only need one to pay me attention. She’s all that matters.” Our eyes met for the briefest of seconds, and my heart jumped. No. It wasn’t a jump. More like a tiny fraction of a . . . shift. Because Simon making my heart jump while I was standing there with Jamie’s arm around me would be weird. Plus, I knew who Simon was talking about. Jamie had told me all about his dinosaur-bone-digging girlfriend, Karen. She was the she. Not me. My heart was just being stupid. I leaned closer into Jamie’s side. “Hey, come talk to me,” I said to Jamie.

He followed me into the living room. Once we were alone, I leaned up and, with a hand on either side of his face, pressed my lips against his. He was surprised at first, I could tell, but he quickly warmed to the kiss, pulling me closer with an arm across the small of my back.

“What was that for?” His words were soft, close to my ear.

“I don’t know, I . . . Dave called me your girlfriend earlier. I mean, I know he was joking, but you didn’t correct him.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is it too soon? I know it’s only been a couple of weeks.”

I bit my lip. “And four days.”

He still held me close, my hands pressed against his chest. “I can tell you this,” he said. “I don’t want to be seeing anyone else.”

I shook my head. “I don’t either.”

“So . . . we keep dating, then. Only each other.” He smiled.

This. This was what it felt like. Not stupid little heart jumps over weird, unintentional eye contact. Chloe was right. I had landed the big fish. There was no way I was screwing that up. I leaned up and kissed Jamie again. “Yes. Good plan.”

Jamie: Dude. I need help.

Simon: Are you texting just me?

Jamie: I want you to keep this between us.

Simon: Okay. You have my attention.

Jamie: I need help with Lane.

Simon: Explain.

Jamie: We went out last night. Dinner and then to the bookstore.

Simon: And?

Jamie: She’s a book person.

Simon: Okay.

Jamie: I’m not a book person.

Simon: She seems to like you the way you are.

Jamie: But if books are important to her, I feel like I need to try.

Simon: So ask her what she likes to read, then read those books.

Jamie: But I want her to think I know books.

Simon: I’m not helping you pretend to be something you’re not.

Jamie: Not what I’m asking. Can you just tell me a book to read? One she might think is impressive?

Simon: I don’t know her, Jamie. I have no idea what books she likes.

Jamie: She was talking about this one book. Something historical. About cathedrals, maybe?

Simon: Pillars of the Earth?

Jamie: Yes! That’s it.

Simon: Ken Follett. Great book.

Jamie: If that’s what she likes, what else could I read?

Simon: Look up Ariana Franklin. And Bernard Cornwell. You should also read everything Khaled Hosseini has ever written. If Lane’s a big reader, she’s probably read them.

Jamie: Got it. Thanks.