Copper Lining (The Cardwell Family Series Book 3)

by Christy Pastore

  I drag the toe of my shoe across the freshly cut grass. “I think Cardwell will be back on top sooner than you think.”

  He pushes off the tree and takes a step toward me. “You’re that confident in what you’re working on?”

  I glance sideways. “I’m not talking about what I’m doing. You were at the farmers market today. You talked with the customers. And you sold out of your stock. I’d say today was a sign of positive things to come.”

  His hand reaches up and he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, that reminds me I should text Brant and tell him the good news.”

  The wind kicks up, and I breathe in the air. Darkening clouds are quickly replacing the sunshine.

  Wes taps against his phone and Sonny climbs up the ladder to the playhouse. He sails down the slide with a truck in his lap. He climbs back up and goes down again.

  I remember when Celia was his age. So much energy and pure joy. An ominous rumble of thunder cracks out, stealing my memories.

  “Time to go inside, Sonny.” Wes shoves his phone into his back pocket.

  We hurry inside, managing to avoid the downpour.

  Sonny cries for his mom. Wes picks him up and holds him close to his chest.

  “You want to get Bolt?”

  Sonny nods and his little arms curl around Wes’ neck. “’Cuz Bolt’s not scared of anything.”

  “He’s a pretty brave pup.” Wes scoops up the plush white dog from the floor. A few seconds later, the two of them are curled up on the sofa. “But you’re brave too.”

  “I am?”

  “Yeah, you climbed up the ladder and the rock wall. That’s being brave.”

  Sonny bops his head back and forth and plays with the dog’s ears. “Yeah, but I was just playing.”

  Lightning strikes and casts shadows over the walls. I feel the house shake and my heart stutters in my chest.

  “Make it go away, Wes,” Sonny cries out.

  “I can’t make it go away, but I’ll stay right here with you. Close your eyes and hold Bolt. You know we need rain. It helps make the corn grow.”

  “And the beans too?”

  “Yep.”

  “But why do we need the lightning and thunder?”

  “Well, we don’t need the lightning and thunder, but I think nature needs it. I know it can be a little scary and thunderstorms can be loud, but sometimes things are a little less frightening if we know why it happens. Here, check this out.”

  Wes taps at this phone screen and Sonny turns his head toward it.

  “What causes thunder and lightning? Have you ever walked across the carpet in your house and then reached for the doorknob, only to get a little shocked?”

  I bite back a smile. Wes is so good with him. I’ve never seen anything so sweet.

  A lump settles in my throat, and I walk into the kitchen to swallow down the swell of emotions.

  It’s not that big of a deal. He’s being kind to a frightened little boy. Anyone with a heart would do the same thing.

  I pull the mini marshmallows and chocolate chips from the bag and focus my attention on the task at hand. From the living room I hear voices on the television discussing the weather. Then the talk switches from weather to a picnic.

  “It’s almost time to go,” a voice squeaks out.

  Rain taps against the window in a low melodic rhythm. I don’t measure the ingredients, I cover the brownies with a generous layer of chocolate chips and marshmallows. Once that’s done, I add the caramel squares evenly across the top.

  Laughter floats in from the living room. I turn to see Wes sitting on the floor with Sonny. Sonny shoves a coloring book in his lap. Seeing this side of Wes, it’s almost as if he’s a completely different person from the man I met that first day in Maui.

  Responsible Wes.

  Caring Wes.

  But he had been those things in Maui too. It showed in the way he took care of the boat, his friend’s place, and me.

  Still. His life is here, for now.

  Mine’s in California with Celia.

  My eyes flick to the kitchen window. The rain has moved on, but gray clouds linger, and the thunder continues to rumble. It’s nerve-wracking and beautiful at the same time.

  “Do you need any help?” Wes asks.

  “Bolt wants to help too,” Sonny tells me and sets the toy onto the counter.

  I open the oven door and push the glass pan inside. “Well, that’s good because this is the most important part. We have to keep a close eye on the marshmallows so they don’t burn.”

  “I can do that,” Sonny shouts.

  I push one of the high-back chairs in front of the oven and pat the seat. “Okay, you keep your eye out and let me know when those chocolate squares start to melt.”

  Leaning forward, Sonny presses Bolt’s nose to the glass.

  Being around Sonny has me missing my Celia like crazy. As I stand gazing out the window watching the clouds race across the sky, I wonder what she’s been up to today. She’s probably having the time of her life.

  Wes moves and stands behind me. “I thought we’d order pizza for dinner. I know a great place in town.” His warm breath fans across the shell of my ear.

  Suddenly the kitchen space seems much smaller. Thunder cracks outside, Sonny doesn’t flinch this time. But the house seems to fill with a buzzing energy.

  I’m not so sure the sparks are from the storm. Maybe it’s all in my head. Or maybe he feels it too. It doesn’t matter because nothing can happen between the two of us.

  Too late.

  Memories of Maui flicker in my brain.

  I clear my throat. “Oh yeah?” Needing to put some distance between the two of us, I wipe off the counter and pack up my stuff.

  “Yeah, my brother-in-law Tyler’s restaurant has the best pizza.” He swipes his phone screen and slides it in front of me.

  “Oh, the three cheese looks delicious and so do those breadsticks.”

  Wes grins. “Yeah, everything’s fresh, and the breadsticks are fire. I can call in the order and go pick it up while you and Sonny stay here.”

  “Minka, the chocolate’s melting,” Sonny shouts, excitement pops in his voice.

  I glance at the clock on the microwave. “Perfect timing.”

  I help Sonny shift the chair away from the oven. As I pull the pan out, he scoots the chair up to the bar and hops back into the seat.

  Wes moves toward the backdoor. “I’m going to get the pizza. I’ll call in the order while I drive into town.”

  The kitchen fills with the aroma of chocolate gooey goodness.

  “Can I have a brownie now?”

  “After they cool a little bit,” Wes says to Sonny. “Plus, you don’t want to spoil your dinner, do you?”

  He shakes his head. “Can I have the sausage pizza?”

  “Sure thing, buddy.” Wes pops his head back around. “Don’t eat any of those brownies before I get back.”

  Sonny laughs. “I promise I won’t.”

  “I can’t wait to get a taste, Minka.”

  The pulse in my neck thrums. His words—the suggestive innuendo—have me on edge.

  When the door closes, I let out a tiny puff of air.

  “Do you want something to drink?” I ask Sonny.

  “Apple juice, please. My cup’s right there.” He points to the right side of the sink.

  Wes strides across the driveway and jumps up to touch the rim of the basketball hoop just off the driveway. His shirt rises, giving me a prime view of his abs.

  Abs I want to touch.

  Abs I have touched.

  He bends down to pick up the orange ball and tosses it up and right into the net. He looks toward the house and I swear he winks at me.

  Rolling my eyes, I shake my head.

  I wonder if Jade has any wine.

  Wes

  I swallow down a sip of a much-needed beer when I hear my brother call out my name.

  When I turn around, he’s standing there with Caroline. Her usu
al expression of warm and friendly looks pained and uncomfortable.

  “Caroline, here, take my seat.”

  She waves me off. “I’ve been sitting all day. All I want to do is put on my tennis shoes and run like the wind.”

  Brant’s eyes shut, and he rubs Caroline’s shoulders. “Soon, very soon.”

  “I’m about to run to Indiana and back so this baby will come out.”

  The look on my brother’s face tells me that he might believe her. It’s a little funny to see him panic.

  Caroline looks up at him. “Oh, stop worrying, Brant. I’m not gonna do that. This little one needs to bake a little longer.”

  Relief passes over his face, and I snicker into my beer. “What are you guys doing?”

  “Date night,” Brant answers.

  “We make sure that we have a date at least once a week.” Her hands cradle her bump. “Since this is happening and all.”

  “That’s nice.”

  Brant signals to the bartender for his usual bourbon drink. “So, how’d it go at the market?”

  “Sorry, I meant to text you back, I’ve been busy. The market was good. Sold out of a couple of products too.”

  Brant lays a ten onto the bar top. “You want to talk about it over dinner?”

  “Yeah, join us at our table instead of eating by yourself at the bar,” Caroline interjects.

  I cock a brow. “What makes you think I’m eating alone?”

  Brant laughs. “Aren’t you?”

  “As a matter of fact, no.”

  Caroline tosses me a sideways glance. All three of our phones ping in unison. Probably a weather alert. My gaze flicks to the screen.

  “Group text,” Caroline announces.

  “Mom wants one of us to invite Minka to Sunday brunch tomorrow.”

  I stare down at my mom’s request. “I can do that.”

  If either of them thinks it’s odd that I volunteer to invite Minka, it doesn’t show in their expressions. And that surprises me, given I haven’t been all that welcoming to Minka since she joined team Cardwell. As I swallow down the last of my beer, the bartender places my order on top of the bar.

  I pick up the boxes and turn back toward them. “Gotta be going. My date’s waiting.”

  Neither of them says anything to me, but I hear Brant tell Caroline something about me and my jokes. I know they think I’m a confirmed bachelor. I haven’t given them any reason to think otherwise.

  Minka makes me think about settling into a “we.” I laid awake all night thinking about her. About us.

  I thought about our kiss at the bar. I thought about how good she felt in my arms. Everything from our time together in Maui, even though it was only a couple of days, flooded every inch of my brain and my body.

  It wasn’t all the sex either that climbed its way through my thoughts.

  It was all of it—moments we shared, the conversations and everything in between. I thought of the days we’d spent together, the way she made me laugh. The way she listened to me.

  As I processed all those thoughts last night, it made me realize that I missed her. Missed being with her the way we were in Maui.

  Today was just another reminder of how things can be between the two of us. For a moment, I thought about what it would be like to work with her daily. What it would be like to come home to her or take her out for dinner after a hectic day.

  If only she would give things between the two of us a try. I can show her how good things can be between us.

  I should realize that my thoughts are a wasted effort. Because her life is in California with her daughter and my life, for now, is here.

  Once she gives my brother the recipe he’s looking for, she’ll leave. And that will be the end of that.

  That reality creeps into my head as I drive back to Theo’s place.

  She will leave.

  When I turn down the road to Theo’s house, I’m caught in an epic downpour. The drive back takes me double the time because I can barely see the road in front of me. I keep my focus on the white line, sticking to it and away from the center of the road.

  As I pull into the driveway, the rain hasn’t slowed. Scooping up the food and the two bottles of wine I bought, I blow out a huge breath as I make a break for the backdoor. Irritated and hungry accurately describes my mood. I hope that Sonny wasn’t too much trouble for Minka.

  I walk through the door and my mood improves greatly when I see the two of them coloring at the kitchen island.

  “Finally,” Sonny shouts. “You took for-ever Wes!”

  Minka laughs. “Glad you made it back safely.”

  I smile at her and then pivot toward Sonny. “Well, I’m back now. And since it took forever, will you be the official taster and let me know if the pizza needs to be warmed up?”

  “Sure, I can do that!” Sonny looks up at me and smiles.

  I set the boxes and bag of breadsticks on the island. My eyes drift to the brownie pan.

  “Did you guys eat dessert without me?”

  Sonny looks at Minka and from the way the two of them laugh, I get the feeling it’s their little joke. It lifts my sour mood.

  I pop open the box with Sonny’s smaller pizza and pull out a slice for him to try.

  He tries to grab it from my hand.

  “Come on, buddy. Wait for me to get a plate.”

  He scrunches his face at me and blows out a breath. “Hurry up.”

  “Sonny, you’re being a little rude.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just so haaaannnngggrryyy.”

  Minka bursts out laughing. “Where in the world did you hear that word?”

  I plate the pizza for Sonny as he climbs back up onto his barstool. “My daddy says it to my mom all the time. He says it means that you’re so hungry it makes you so mad.”

  “Sounds about right,” I agree.

  Sonny takes a big bite of pizza. “Yum,” he says, closing his eyes. “This is so good.”

  “Yeah, but is it still hot?”

  He nods. “It’s warm.”

  I shake my head, removing the wine from the bag. “I got us some pinot noir.”

  She smiles. “Thank goodness.”

  “He wasn’t too much of a handful for you?” I ask, pulling two glasses from the cabinet.

  “No, he’s a sweet boy. We had fun.”

  Minka refills Sonny’s glass with milk and he asks her for another piece of pizza. She looks perfectly at home in the kitchen.

  “I’m starving and all of this smells so good.”

  “You sit,” Minka tells me and points to the chair opposite Sonny. “I’m sure that drive back was nerve-wracking.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask, taking my glass of wine in my hand.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Forgetting how hungry I am for a moment, I watch as Minka plates our pizza and breadsticks. She sets the food onto the island and sits beside Sonny. I place a wineglass in front of her and Sonny inhales the pizza.

  We laugh and talk, forgetting about the rumbling of the storm for a little while. Before I know it, I’ve eaten three slices of pizza.

  “There was so much rain, we couldn’t even see my playground,” Sonny announces.

  A bolt of lightning flashes outside. Sonny closes his eyes and counts out loud. “. . . four, five, six, seven, eight . . .”

  And that’s when thunder rumbles out.

  He looks at Minka. “It’s far away, right?”

  She nods and swallows her food. “Yep. Good job.”

  “Do you think it’s going to rain all night?” Sonny asks before taking another bite of pizza.

  I tap at my phone screen. “Hmm, well, the weather app says the rain should stop around eight o’clock. But you know rain can be a little unpredictable.”

  “Unpredictable.” He shrugs and swallows his milk.

  “Yeah,” Minka says. “Unpredictable it means . . . okay, sometimes, I think I’m going to wear a dress and I’m so sure of it and then I change my mind over and
over.”

  He laughs and slaps his hand to the tabletop. “Oh yeah, my mom’s like that.”

  “So, with weather,” she continues, wiping her hands with the napkin. “One day, they tell us we’ll get a lot of snow, but really we get a tiny amount. That’s weather being unpredictable.”

  “Yeah, Dad always wants snow,” he tells us. “But Mom hates snow. Can I have more pizza, please?”

  “You can.” I help him with the slice, and he takes a huge bite.

  “What about you?” I level my gaze at Minka. “How do you feel about snow?”

  Minka lifts a shoulder. “I miss snow. Winter in Malibu isn’t the same as Chicago.”

  “How long have you been in California?”

  “Five years this summer. Celia was four when we moved.”

  Sonny falls back in the chair. “I’m so full,” he groans and pats his palm against his belly. “Can I be excused?”

  “Are you sure you don’t want more to eat?”

  He nods. “I’m sure.” Sonny slides off the chair with his glass of milk. “Can I watch cartoons?”

  “You sure can, buddy.”

  He wanders into the living room and the television comes to life with singsong voices.

  “Sonny’s a good little kid,” Minka says before taking a sip of wine.

  “How’d it go while I was gone?” I grab another slice of pizza.

  “Getting through the storm was a little bumpy. I taught him the counting trick to get him to focus on something other than being scared.”

  “That was really cool of you.”

  Her eyes meet mine. “Thanks. It’s something I remember teaching my sisters when we were younger.”

  “Oh, really?”

  She stares at me for a beat. “Lightning is pretty rare in So Cal. But Chicago summers can be brutal with storms. My mom worked late sometimes; she was a therapist. Late night sessions with patients and with Dad traveling, and then eventually not around, I was the big sister in charge of meals, checking homework, and all the stuff in between.”

  “How old were you during all this?”

  “I was twelve when my mom went back to work,” Minka says between bites of pizza. “My dad left the summer before my senior year.”