“TRIPLE DIGITS ALL WEEK. Looks like we’ll be breaking records on Friday. Lovely.” Aunt Mags shook out her newspaper. “And not a single drop of rain on the horizon.”
Astrid rinsed her coffee cup in the sink, her gaze fixed on the long, brittle grasses waving in the distance. Without rain, they’d be looking at another drought. No water meant no flowers or blooms and no pollen. Without pollen they’d need to up the supplement feed for the bees.
“Wait an hour, the weather will change.” Aunt Camellia sipped her tea. “Isn’t that what Poppa used to say?”
“Let’s hope he’s right.” Aunt Mags turned to look out the window. “We need a torrential downpour that gives the ground a good soaking.”
“We’ll need to check all the water sources now.” Astrid sniffed the strawberry-honey galette on the wire cooling rack. Tonight’s dessert was mighty tempting.
“I’m on it.” Leif inhaled another slice of honey streusel coffee cake into his mouth.
“Thank you.” She smiled, ever impressed with the amount of food the teen packed away. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll need to do more than feed them syrup.”
“Pollen patties?” Aunt Camellia sipped her tea. “I’ll do a shop and make sure we have enough sugar.” She scribbled something on the tablet at her side.
“You sure?” Dane asked, scanning Aunt Camellia’s note before turning to look at her.
“If Astrid says we need pollen patties, we need pollen patties.” Tansy offered him a bite of her toast. “She is the bee whisperer.”
Dane took a bite. “Got it.”
“What is a pollen patty?” Shelby flipped her spiral notebook full of bee notes. “And when you say syrup, do you mean syrup-syrup?” She ran her finger over the page. “How did I not know we feed the bees?”
Astrid pushed off the counter, stepping over the pile of sleeping dogs, and grabbed a basket. “We like to do as little as possible—and let bees be bees. But we don’t want all the bees to go off in search of greener pastures, so we make sure they’re not starving and give them enough to thrive.”
“Why are you putting cookies into a basket?” Tansy watched as Astrid put two more freshly-baked cookies into the basket. “Are you still trying to win them over?”
“For your information, I’ve won the girls over just fine.” Astrid hesitated, then added a couple more honey-lemon sugar cookies.
“Fine. Are you still trying to win him over?” Tansy asked.
Astrid was fully aware that every eye—even Lord Byron the parrot—was now focused on her. “No. I’m checking in on the bees. The bees that were kicked over only a few days ago, you’ll remember?” She sighed. “And I’m being neighborly.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Tansy’s eyes narrowed.
“He’s from Dallas or Fort Worth, isn’t he?” Shelby was feeding Bea some bananas and cereal pieces. “The whole small town, in-your-business thing can be a lot for a city person. I know.” She popped a piece of peach-and-honey muffin into her mouth. “I think it’s sweet you’re trying to make him feel welcome.”
“Thank you.” Astrid felt somewhat vindicated by Shelby’s support.
“There’s something off about the guy.” Dane sat back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I was a city guy for a while. I’ve never acted like a di—jerk.”
“Hmm?” Tansy smiled and batted her lashes at him. “Really? Are you sure?”
“I don’t think that’s it. He’s just...shy. Out of his element.” Astrid glanced around the table. “From the little I’ve learned, it seems the three of them don’t have the support system we do. It’s just the three of them. His wife died a year or so ago. They hadn’t been married very long when that happened. The girls were hers but, now...well, they’re his. And then his aunt dies.” She paused, giving each of them a moment to digest what she’d shared. “I’m not saying he’s not gruff and withdrawn and a bit socially awkward but...he sort of has a right. We should give him a break. And, maybe, a little kindness, too. I think they could all use some of both.”
The whole kitchen was silent then. If they were going to try to judge Charlie’s character then they needed to more fully understand the picture. Whether or not he oozed affection, Charlie wasn’t a bad person.
Dane sighed. “Well, I feel like an ass.”
“I’ll make more cookies.” Aunt Camellia stood. “We should invite them to dinner, shouldn’t we?”
Aunt Magnolia had set aside her newspaper and was studying Astrid. She glanced at the basket. “You go on. And take all the cookies.”
Not long after, she, Oatmeal and Pudding were walking the path to Rebecca Wallace’s slightly slanted purple house. It was barely nine in the morning but the heat was thick and airless. No breeze. No movement. The buzz of cicadas, the gentle symphony of birdcalls, and the swish-swish of the dogs’ tails kept rhythm as they walked the dry foliage lining the footpath.
Astrid adjusted the basket as she stepped onto the porch to knock on the front door.
“I’ll get it.” Halley’s voice rang out seconds before she opened the door. “Hi, Astrid.” She yawned. “Hi, Oatmeal. Hi, Pudding.” The sight of the dogs instantly perked her up.
“Good morning.” Astrid held out the basket. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t.” Halley waved her in. “It’s hot, though. Our air-conditioning went out last night.”
As soon as the door shut, the house was an oven. Within seconds, sweat was beading along her temple and back. “Aren’t you melting?”
“We camped out in the dining room.” Halley led the way. “There’s a window unit in there. And a big fan.” She opened the door, cool air wafting out to greet them.
Astrid hurried to pull the door shut behind them.
“Astrid.” Nova was up, leaving her nest of blankets and pillows, and running—full steam—into her side. “Hi. I’m in my pj’s. Do you like them? Stars. All over. It’s hot. We all had a slumber party here but Charlie didn’t sleep and he’s got a big meeting and the air commissioning men aren’t coming.”
“Air-conditioning,” Halley corrected.
“Air co-commissioning.” Nova nodded.
Astrid gave Nova a wink. Sleepless nights and no air-conditioning were bad enough. But trying to be on for a big business meeting while dealing with all the rest was...a lot. Poor Charlie.
Charlie had his phone pressed to his ear. “I understand.” He wasn’t happy. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, looking defeated. His hair was a mess, his white undershirt was wrinkled and snug across his broad back, and his cotton shorts showcased well-muscled thighs and calves. “Fine. Thank you.”
“I’d say good morning but it sounds like we’re off to a rocky start.” She slid the basket of goodies onto the end of the large dining table currently serving as Charlie’s desk. “I brought breakfast.”
Charlie ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t suppose there’s some sort of stone pig or metal cow or elephant statue Rebecca used to make the air conditioner work?”
Astrid had to smile. “Sadly, no.”
His hooded eyes met hers. “I was afraid of that.” His smile was lopsided and reluctant, but it was something—even if it did last less than five seconds.
Charlie was capable of smiling. Well, it was a sort-of smile.
Whatever it was, it was enough to make Astrid’s heart clip along at triple time. “Have you tried giving it a good whack?” She gripped the back of the chair, pretending her heart wasn’t doing odd gymnastic maneuvers in her chest. His eyes fell from hers, so it was easier for her to speak. “Rebecca was a fan of trying to beat whatever was acting up into submission. Half the time it worked.”
“And the other half?” He stood and peered into the basket.
She didn’t linger over how big and tall and rumpled and warm he was, this close to her. “She’d have to repair or replace it.” She opened the basket more fully. “You were gifted a dozen cookies. Not exactly breakfast—”
Charlie pulled out one of the cookies. “This morning there are no rules. Cookies for breakfast.” He took a big bite and sighed.
“Really?” Nova asked. “Really, really?”
“Really, really.” He pointed at the basket. “You pick, Nova.”
Even Halley looked surprised.
Astrid noted the open phone book on the table. “Who have you called?”
Charlie ran his finger along the ancient phone book. “Everyone but the Walsh Brothers AC. That’s assuming they’re still in business—this book is a few years old.”
“The Walsh Brothers?” Astrid winced. “They’re known for not meeting deadlines.”
“Considering everyone’s telling me at least a week, I’m calling.” He shook his head. “We can’t live like this for a week.”
“No, no, of course not.” She handed Halley a napkin. “Is today’s meeting very important?”
He ran his fingers through his hair—meaning he was stressed. Considering how often he did it, it was surprising he didn’t have a bald spot. “It is.”
He’d need to concentrate—which would be easier if he wasn’t preoccupied. He was still close, so she whispered, “I can take the girls back with me? We have plenty of room and air-conditioning. I’ll warn you baking will likely be involved—Aunt Camellia is a consummate baker.”
His gaze swiveled her way—and held. He had very nice, surprisingly warm brown eyes. Indeed, she was growing warmer by the second.
“It would be no bother. And I won’t let them run free through the beehives. Not for too long, anyway.” She was smiling when she finished, hoping he’d realize she was teasing. Considering his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit, she added, “That was a joke.”
“I know.” He swallowed, hard. “You...” He drew in a deep breath. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it. And I know they would, too.”
Astrid blinked. “I was expecting to have to work harder.”
“I’m not completely unreasonable.” His brows rose. “Air-conditioning problems or not, they want to go. They’ve said so. A dozen or so times.” He watched Nova shove an entire cookie into her mouth.
“Nova.” Halley rolled her eyes in feigned disapproval—before falling back onto their blankets and pillows to laugh.
Astrid hadn’t realized she’d placed her hand on his arm. “Everyone needs a change of scenery now and then. Plus, I have dogs. Dogs and treats... A hard-to-beat combination.”
But he was staring down at her hand on his arm, his jaw muscle working.
She let go of him. “Sorry. Habit. I tend to be a toucher...”
He nodded. “Girls, Astrid has invited the two of you to her farm—”
After that, nothing was intelligible. The girls were a flurry of activity. While Nova didn’t care if anything matched, Halley was far more intentional in her choices. Astrid sat and began to carefully brush the knots from Nova’s hair while Halley went upstairs for more choices.
“Can you give me braids like you?” Nova asked. “I like them.”
Astrid reached up to pat her braids. “Sometimes I don’t even know I’m doing it, Nova. It just keeps the hair out of my face—which is quite helpful when I’m working with the bees.”
“Practical.” Charlie was studying her hair now.
“It’s easier than carrying around clips or bands or combs.” She smoothed her hand over her braids. “I...don’t think about it. I just...do it.”
“Do mine, Astrid, please.” Nova smiled up at her.
Astrid set to work. While her hair was wavy and thick, Nova’s was so curly it took effort to tame the strands into solid plaits. She put three along each side of the little girl’s head and used the brightly colored bands Nova provided her to hold them in place. “Your hair is so curly, Nova. I hope the braids will stay.”
“My momma had hair like me and Halley. She hated it so she cut it super short.” Nova turned to look at her. “She didn’t know how to braid.”
“It doesn’t sound like she needed to.” Astrid smiled down at the little girl—who looked even more adorable with her braids and colored hair ties. “If she had short hair, she had no use for braids.”
“I’m ready.” Halley burst into the room red-faced and dewy but very fashionable in her ripped jeans, white canvas tennis shoes and midriff baring red T-shirt. She tugged the hem of the shirt and shot a glance Charlie’s way.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Charlie run a hand over his face. His jaw was bulging and there was a noticeable tension rolling off the man, but he took a deep breath—then another, and said, “Have fun. I’ll come get them when the meeting is over.”
She stepped close enough that she could whisper. “Or they could spend the day with me? I’d keep them busy. And my aunts and the dogs would love the extra company. They did basically raise my sisters and I and, I think, they miss having young ones around.” She resisted the urge to put her hand on his arm again. To reassure him, not because of the undeniable urge to touch him. “How about you come get them at dinnertime? You can stay and eat and not have to cook. Unless you get someone to come fix the AC, of course.” Her gaze swept over his face, lingering a hair too long on his mouth. It wasn’t the first time. Her fascination with his mouth had extended beyond seeing a real smile to things she shouldn’t be curious about. Namely, what it would be like to kiss Charlie. Her cheeks went so hot she was certain her face was fire-engine red.
Charlie’s hooded eyes bounced her way—then returned. He went from undecided to alarmed and...something else. Something that had him drawing in an unsteady breath and clenching his jaw. For a second, she thought he might have been equally fascinated by her mouth but then he was staring at the table. “Fine. Yes. Good.” He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
Get a hold of yourself. She’d been labeled the emotional one her whole life. But her emotions had never run amok like this. “You’re welcome, Charlie.”
He was looking at her again. This time, it was the shuttered and distant look she’d come to expect.
“Are we going?” Halley’s enthusiasm was edged with impatience.
“Yes.” Astrid tore her gaze from Charlie and stepped back. One step, then two, until the air wasn’t so crowded with him. The nervous tension playing along her nerves eased with the growing distance. By the time they were walking along the footpath toward her home, the tension had been replaced by an even more distressing sensation. A hollowness. No, really, an ache. Far more distressing was accepting what was causing this new, full-body ache. Not what. But who.
HIS CONCENTRATION HAD lasted through his conference call. He’d been confident, detailed yet brief, and answered every question his client and his employer had fired his way. In short, he’d delivered. Not only had his boss scheduled a private meeting with him for the following morning but the client had been eager to extend their company’s security contract for another two years.
After he’d hit Disconnect, concentrating on the lines of code, the steady influx from the team of coders he managed, or perusing the emails he’d been dodging for the last week was near impossible.
This couldn’t be happening. He had cared for people before. His aunt Rebecca. Yasmina. His affection and devotion for Nova and Halley were instinctual—unshakable and more concrete than he’d thought possible. But those were familial bonds. He’d cared for them because they were his family.
Marrying Yasmina had been a relief. He had his best friend as his partner, without the pressure of any romantic complications. Yasmina’s relationship with the girls’ father had been so emotionally and physically combative, she’d welcomed the safety their marriage had provided. And, with Yasmina, he was getting a family of his own—something he’d never imagined possible. Yasmina’s ex had been all too happy for Charlie to adopt the girls and, for a brief time, Charlie had more than he’d ever dared hope for.
Through Yasmina’s patient guidance, it had become less awkward to give the girl’s a hug or smiles or praise. Something I should be doing more of. It had been Yasmina that had put Nova on his lap—over and over—until he’d overcome his uncertainty holding the toddler.
But, none of that was...this.
He wasn’t thinking about holding Astrid on his lap. He raked his hands through his hair and blew out a long, slow breath. Even if he did ask her to sit on his lap, he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to her. Not that the idea didn’t hold a certain appeal. Why was he smiling?
He stared out the front window, sighed and checked his watch. It was almost seven. He’d worked late because he’d been so damn distracted he’d had to double-then triple-check his work...not because he wasn’t having to worry over the girls, but because of Astrid.
Waiting any longer would be rude.
Par for the course.
He could do better. Halley and Nova had asked him to try—for them. It wouldn’t be easy for him, but he would try. If he was being honest with himself, he had other reasons for dragging his feet. Namely: Astrid’s family. He hadn’t bothered to make a good impression on any of them. Now he was supposed to endure their judgment-laden stares and likely long, awkward silences after he’d taken advantage of their kindness all day? He was already dreading the evening. The sooner he got there, the sooner the whole ordeal would be over and he and the girls could come home.
The same thick heat filling his house waited to greet him outside. There was no breeze. No movement. It was quiet. So quiet. No cars or honking, no airplanes overhead, no conversations drifting in from the upscale condominium complex he and the girls called home in Fort Worth. Instead, he was fully aware of the crunch of the river rock beneath his brown leather lace-up shoes. The sudden whir-click of a grasshopper jumping amidst the thick yellow-brown grasses. The gentle call of a dove perched in the trees overhead. Little sounds. Peaceful sounds. He slowed to take it all in. There was a calm here he welcomed.
It took a good ten minutes for Astrid’s family home to come into view. When it did, he found himself chuckling. The house was straight out of one of the girls’ fairy-tale storybooks. Two stories high, with a rounded turret window and steeply pitched roof that suggested a large attic space, too. Its pale mint green color and bright white trim blended in with the abundant shrubs and flowers overflowing from carefully tended flower beds and hanging pots. As he drew closer, he spotted the intricately carved details that covered every single one of the wraparound porch’s finials. Tiny flowers and bees.
Of course.
He paused and stared up the steps at the closed front door. Try. I can try. For the girls. He shoved aside the anticipation of seeing Astrid—which was ridiculous—and took the stairs two at a time, crossed the wide porch and knocked. No answer.
They were home, he could hear...everything. Someone was playing the piano quite well. There were voices. Laughter. A bark? And some possible squawk? That had to be Lord Byron, the parrot.
He knocked again and rocked back on his heels. Waiting. No need to be nervous or anxious. No reason at all.
The piano kept playing and there was no discernable break in the overlapping voices from inside.
After a third knock, he opened the door and stepped inside.
If he’d thought the outside of the house was very fitting, the inside was equally fanciful. As soon as he opened the door he was transported. The scent of cinnamon hung heavily in the air. Astrid had warned him there would be baking. Lemon cleaner filled his nostrils next—faint but lingering enough to imply the house was often cleaned. The navy-and-white pin-striped walls were covered in a hodgepodge of family pictures, paintings and prints. To the left was a set of dark wood stairs. A formal sitting room was on the right. And in that formal sitting room was the piano—currently played by an older man Charlie vaguely recognized.
“Hello?” he murmured, stepping forward so the man had no choice but to see him.
“Hello.” The man stood. He had a well-groomed silver-and-white mustache and beard and deep creases at the corners of his eyes. But he stood tall, fit and lean, and he had one hell of a solid handshake. “Nice to meet you. Van Kettner.”
“Charles Driver.” He returned the handshake, with equal pressure and vigor.
“I’ve heard quite a lot about you.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Your girls are something.”
The knot in his stomach tightened. “Something? Should I be concerned?”
Van chuckled. “No, no. I mean they’re precocious and charming and have my Camellia and the rest of those Bee Girls wrapped around their little fingers.” He clapped Charlie on the shoulder. “As it should be, if you ask me. Can’t spend too much time with a child.”
Charlie’s stomach eased. Instead of nerves, pride welled up.
“They’re all in the kitchen.” Van waved him to follow. “I was getting in Camellia’s way so I figured I’d steer clear and play some tunes.”
He nodded, his attention wandering along as they walked back into the foyer and down a hallway. There were more carvings on doorframes and built-in bookcases. Not just carvings, though. Someone with a gentle touch had painted bees, flowers and other hints of the natural beauty of the region.
“First time visiting?” Van asked. “The house. I’ve visited more times than I can remember over the years and I still find something new each time I’m here. Kinda like one of those hidden object pictures for kids?”
Charlie knew exactly what the older man was talking about. Halley had loved the picture puzzles so much, he’d subscribed to a children’s magazine that offered a new puzzle every month. It was something he and Halley could do together—but that had been a few years back—before he and Yasmina were married. He suspected she’d roll her eyes if he showed up with one now.
The closer they got to the kitchen, the louder the chatter became. It was a constant stream of conversation. Numerous voices, overflowing, in a harmonious stream. He couldn’t decipher the topic of conversation, but it was being discussed with great enthusiasm.
“It’s been this way all day.” Van chuckled again. “Those girls have energized the lot of them.”
Charlie paused in the kitchen doorway, taking a moment to acclimate himself to his surroundings. Like everything else about the Hill house—and Astrid Hill herself—what he found was surprisingly delightful.
On the far side of the sunlit room, Nova lay propped up on what appeared to be a carpet of sleeping dogs. He couldn’t tell where one dog ended and the other began, but she seemed to be reading to them. A large parrot perched on the back of a kitchen chair nearby, bobbing his head and clicking whenever she turned a page.
Halley stood between Astrid and Camellia, staring into a large pot on the stove. That was likely the source of the cinnamon.
A taller woman emerged from a door in the opposite corner of the room and came to a stop—her vivid green eyes sweeping over him before she offered a smile. “You must be the infamous Charles Driver?” She placed the bag of sugar on the counter and headed straight for him. “You don’t look especially intimidating.” She held out her hand. “I would know, I’m the intimidating one in the family. Magnolia Hill.”
Charlie wasn’t sure what the proper response was but he answered anyway. “It’s not a label I strive for.”
“Really?” Her thin dark red brows rose. “I adore it. It adds an air of mystery. I find mysteries fascinating. You should know, mysteries are few and far between in a town the size of Honey.” She winked, hooking her arm through his.
“Charlie.” Nova sat up. “Hi.” She waved, eliciting the wagging of at least five tails from the pile of dogs around her.
He waved back.
“Charlie.” The parrot squawked. “Charlie. Hi.”
“That’s Lord Byron.” Nova pointed at the bird. “He is so funny.”
“He’d be much funnier stuffed and mounted on the mantel, if you ask me,” Magnolia murmured for his ears only. “But do watch out. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll let you know.”
Once again, Charlie found himself at a loss for words.
“Hey, Charlie.” Halley turned. Not only was her hair braided back like Nova, she was wearing a ruffled apron with Honey Makes Everything Better written on the front. “We’re making creamed honey. Cinnamon.”
“It smells good.” He nodded, processing. A warm reception, for him, from Halley was a rare thing.
“One of our best sellers.” Astrid’s smile was a breath of fresh air. Free and easy and beautiful.
The tightening of his throat was instantaneous. Because of Astrid. Because of his response to her. He cleared his throat. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“It’s been a good day.” Astrid looked at Halley for confirmation.
His daughter nodded. “I’ve learned so much. It’s been, like, way cool.”
Charlie couldn’t help but note the affection in Halley’s gaze as she glanced between Astrid and Camellia. “Way cool sounds good.”
Camellia turned, her smile welcoming. “Your daughters are delightful young ladies.”
He nodded. “A fact I should be more vocal about.”
Halley’s eyes widened before she turned back to the pot they’d all been watching when he came in.
“Very nice,” Magnolia whispered, patting his arm before letting him go. “I hope you like lasagna, Charles.”
“It’s not my best meal but it’s hearty and filling.” Camellia wiped her hands on a bee-embroidered dish towel and walked toward him.
Van draped his arm around the woman. “Don’t let her fool you, Charlie. If Camellia cooked it, it’ll be melt-in-your-mouth delicious. She’s magic in the kitchen.”
“Says you.” She patted the man’s chest and smiled up at him. “You might be a tad biased.”
“A tad,” Magnolia echoed with real affection. “You’ll have to excuse them, Charles. They have a hard time not being moony-eyed and touchy-feely with each other.”
“It’s ’cause they really like each other.” Nova had gone back to reading to the dogs, but stopped long enough to announce this.
“That we do.” Van hugged Camellia close against his side. “That we do.”
Charlie was still too off-kilter to mind their display of affection.
“That we do!” the parrot echoed, squawking loudly.
“Oh, he’s jealous.” Camellia slipped free of Van’s hold and hurried across the room. “Here you go, sugar.” She reached into the pocket of her ruffled apron. “Momma loves you.”
“That bird is getting fatter by the day.” Magnolia sighed. “Dr. Abraham already told you to cut back on his food.”
“I don’t want him to get his feelings hurt. Birds will pluck out their feathers and strike out and do all sorts of things if they feel neglected or abused.”
Charlie’s gaze met Astrid’s then. She shook her head as she moved to his side. “Lord Byron is spoiled by Aunt Camellia, a fact that Aunt Mags can’t stand. You see, Lord Byron and Aunt Mags have more of a...love-hate relationship.”
“She did mention something about the bird being stuffed and mounted on the mantel.” Charlie kept his voice low.
Astrid laughed. “That sounds like Aunt Mags.” Her gaze swept slowly over his face. “How was your important call? Did they give you a raise and promotion for all your hard work?”
“Actually, yes.” And he wasn’t sure it was a good thing. As much as he appreciated the recognition, he wasn’t sure it was best for him and the girls.
“Oh, Charlie.” Astrid’s hand clasped his. “Really?” She lit up—as if she was happy for him or proud of him. Like his news was a big deal to her. “Congratulations.”
Dammit all, his chest felt tight and achy. His lungs and heart had to work double time to keep up. She shouldn’t look so happy for him.
“Always good to get a nod from the higher-ups.” Van nodded.
But Charlie saw the look on Halley’s face and wished he’d kept his mouth shut. She didn’t have to say a word—he knew what she was thinking. Hell, he’d been thinking the same thing. Was this a good thing?
“I told them I needed some time to think about it.” He spoke directly to Halley. “It’s a big decision. The girls and I should decide together.”
Astrid squeezed his hand.
He squeezed back—and froze. What was he doing? He wasn’t the only one that noticed. Astrid did, of course. But so did Halley. And Magnolia.
Halley was wide-eyed.
Magnolia grinned.
The trembling of their joined hands caught him off guard. Not because Astrid’s hand was shaking. No. Of course not. His hand was shaking. Like a leaf. He instantly released hers and shoved both hands into his pockets.
“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.” Camellia buzzed back to the stove, mixed the contents of the pot, then turned to Halley. “Halley, Nova, will you girls help Astrid set the table?”
And just like that, the room was in motion. Charlie had never been so eager to blend into the background. He needed a moment. Hell, he needed more than a moment. The plan was to eat fast, and get out of here. After the whole natural hand-holding thing, he was rethinking staying for dinner. What was happening to him?
“It’s not so bad.” Van clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not saying it’s easy but... Once you find the right woman, there’s not a damn thing you can do except be grateful.”
Charlie resisted the urge to push back or argue. He didn’t know Van and Van sure as hell didn’t know him. If the man was trying to imply that Astrid...that he...
“Charlie.” Camellia shot Van a look, then shoved a large basket at Charlie. “Would you mind taking the rolls to the dining room? Van, darling, you can help me with the salad.”
Charlie headed toward the door Astrid and the girls had taken but he heard Camellia’s voice saying, “Van Kettner, don’t you push. Astrid deserves a man who sees her for the gift she is.”
“You mean, like you are? For me?” Van’s gruff tone left little room for misinterpretation.
“Exactly,” Camellia answered. “Now kiss me and get to work on that salad.”
Charlie didn’t look back. Instead, he pushed through the door and into the formal dining room of Hill house. Compared to the rest of the house, this room was stuffy and out of place. “Do you use this room often?”
Astrid was placing silverware beside each plate. “No.” She paused, considering. “I can’t remember the last time we used it, actually.” She shrugged, her gaze darting his way before returning to her task.
“Boy bees are called drones, Charlie. Did you know that?” Nova asked, putting a bee-embroidered linen napkin beside the plates Halley arranged. “They don’t do anything.” She sighed for added effect. “When the bees get low on food, the other bees kick the drones out so they don’t take it from the baby bees or the queen. They starve and die.” She emphasized die with an extra dose of drama and paused in her napkin distribution. “All the other bees are girl bees.”
“I didn’t know any of that.” He set the basket in the middle of the table.
“I know lots about bees now.” Nova nodded.
“I bet you do.” He glanced at Astrid.
“They asked.” Astrid winked at Nova. “She and Halley have eager minds. So many questions.”
“About bees?” He hadn’t meant to sound so surprised.
“And other things.” Halley shrugged.
There it was. Founded or not, a twinge of jealousy soured his stomach. Seconds later, it gave way to relief. He wasn’t going to begrudge the girls someone to talk to. He sure as hell didn’t have all the answers—especially when it came to things relating to girls. Astrid was more suited for that. He should be grateful to her.
He glanced at Astrid only to find her studying him. Openly. As if he was a puzzle she couldn’t quite work out.
I know the feeling.
It wasn’t the first time he found his gaze exploring every detail of her face. Then, lower, to the arch of her throat. Which reminded him. “How is your sting?”
She blinked. “What sting?”
He touched the back of his neck. “Your sting. From the great bee rescue.”
Her smile was blinding. “Oh, I like that. The great bee rescue. That sounds like a book title.” She tucked a strand of long hair behind her ear and touched the back of her neck. “I’d forgotten. All healed. Thank you for asking.” Her cheeks darkened pink and...yes, she was staring at his mouth.
It was enough to have Charlie gripping the back of one of the dining room chairs. He shouldn’t be reacting this way. He shouldn’t notice things like that or worry over her bee sting or go warm and breathless from one of her sweet smiles. And yet, there was no stopping it. If only there was some sort of suit, like Astrid’s beekeeping suit, that could protect him from whatever was happening. Unfortunately, he suspected the damage she would leave him with would take more than ointment and time to recover from. If he let her, that is. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. There was no way he’d be foolish enough to let that happen.