Copper Lining (The Cardwell Family Series Book 3)

by Christy Pastore

  “Confession, Wes and I met a few months back in Maui.”

  Her blue eyes pop wide. “Are you serious?”

  “Yep. So, imagine my surprise when my vacation fling is sitting across the conference table from me looking sexy and broody as hell. Gawd, he was so mad at me.”

  “That’s so crazy.” She leans back and takes a drink of water. “I can kinda relate. That reminds me of the time I first saw Brant when he came back from New York. Total shock, and I can’t believe he recognized me. I was so mad at him.”

  We both laugh and Caroline tells me more about how she met Brant when she worked at the movie theater in high school. We swap stories and I tell her about the first time I met Wes. The bracelet incident and the dangerous sea beast.

  My mind wanders to Wes, and I wonder what he’s doing at the office. There’s a private tasting in Smyrna Hills tonight, but Theo’s handling the event.

  “How much do I owe you for the cake?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not taking your money.”

  “Yes, you are, and you’re coming to the wedding.” Caroline swipes her phone. “I assume you take PayPal?”

  “Five hundred even will do, and I wouldn’t miss the wedding.”

  “Great. Now type in your email.” Caroline slides her phone in my direction. “Three-thirty in the gardens on Sunday.”

  “I’ll be there with bells on.”

  “Bells on . . . is that code for Wes?”

  “You are terrible,” I tell her.

  “I call it like I see it, girl.”

  After Caroline leaves, I gather my stuff and drive over to the distillery. I’ve got a lot of work to do, and I want to make sure that Pete has the baking supplies I need to make the cake.

  I breeze into the doors and Pete gives me a huge smile. “Minka, are you makin’ more of those delicious cupcakes?”

  “Not today. But I am making a cake for a wedding. Can I borrow your kitchen?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I start taking inventory of the things available to me in the kitchen. I know right away I’m going to need a cake stand. And cake pans, since theirs aren’t deep enough.

  My fingers tap against the prep station counter.

  “What are you thinking so hard about?” Wes’ deep voice drifts over the shell of my ear.

  A shiver runs up my spine when my eyes meet his. “Brant and Caroline have hired me to make a wedding cake.”

  “Ah, yes, I heard something about that.”

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “Well, I was going to have some lunch, but now I think I need something more.” He waggles his brows.

  “Keep your voice down.” I press my finger to my lips.

  “Fine. How was your talk with Celia?”

  My heart pings in my chest at his thoughtfulness. “It was really wonderful to hear her voice. She’s having a great time.”

  “That’s good. How can I help you?”

  “Don’t you have a job to do yourself?”

  “Since my brother is getting married this weekend, I’ve given some thought to taking the rest of the day off.”

  I move, and my hip bumps against the counter. “Can you afford to do that? What about the sales department?”

  “Theo has a handle on things. So tell me how I can help.”

  “Well, I need to go buy some ingredients and I need three cake pans.” I swipe my phone and show Wes all the things I need.

  “It’s a good thing I ran into you then because I actually know a place where we can get all this stuff.”

  “Lead the way,” I motion for the door.

  When we’re seated in his truck, I turn to him and ask, “Where are you taking me?”

  “Well, first we’re getting lunch. Then we’re getting supplies.”

  “I have a cake to make. Not to mention lemon buttercream frosting.”

  “And you have plenty of time.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It was a pleasure to make Queen Consort Kerris’ cake,” His voice singsongs out two octaves higher.

  “I do not sound like that. It’s a terrible impression.”

  He turns his head and bats his eyelashes. “Her highness flew me over seven days prior to the party and we got to work on the details right away. If properly refrigerated, a cake, as well as the frosting, can keep up to seven days. Make sure the temp is between thirty and forty-five degrees.”

  A tiny smile flickers on my lips. He quoted the People Magazine article.

  “So, you’re studying up on cake baking?”

  He chuckles, and his hand grazes my knee where he squeezes. “I’ll study anything that involves you, sweetheart.”

  Wes steers down Main Street in Smyrna Hills, and then we’re parked in front of The Saffron House, his brother-in-law’s restaurant.

  “Don’t open that door.” His smile is easy and relaxed.

  I sit up and lean forward as Wes rounds the front of his truck.

  “Come on,” he says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder. We trek up the sidewalk, and an icy blast of air hits me when he opens the door.

  He takes me by the hand, leading me toward the bar. The bartender suggests a rosé wine, and I happily agree. Wes orders a gin and tonic, which surprises me.

  The place is charming, a farm-to-table restaurant with a giant fireplace in the middle and towering trees in terracotta planters. Six stunning chandeliers decorate the space.

  We take a seat at the table in front of the fireplace, and the hostess brings us two menus.

  “I used to dream of opening my own restaurant.”

  Wes’ brows rise. “What changed?”

  “Somehow, I fell into blogging, and that led to other things. Then I got married and pregnant. Writing and content creation excited me more than the thought of opening a restaurant back then.”

  “And now?”

  I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know, but I could see myself having a place like this.”

  Wes leans back. “I don’t know how Tyler would feel about you infringing on his territory.”

  I laugh. “Well, I don’t know if farm-to-table is my style . . . California and all,” I swallow hard. “Everything I make would have to have avocados.”

  Wes’ smile fades even though I thought I recovered pretty well with my lighthearted joke. And then the reality that Wes and I live in two different worlds hits me hard.

  Once my job here is done, I’ll go back to California, and he will stay here. My anxiety kicks into overdrive, and Weston must realize I’m internally freaking out.

  His knowing eyes meet mine. “Hey, don’t overthink it. Let’s stay in the moment and have a nice time.”

  “Okay.”

  Wes

  “Who thinks Brantley will cry when Caroline gives birth?” I turn to face Maybelle, Sawyer, Haven, and Tyler.

  Brant nearly lost it during his vows to Caroline.

  I’ve never seen my brother cry. Not ever.

  “Oh, jeez,” Maybelle laughs. “Give the guy a break. He loves that woman.”

  I lean against the bar and watch Minka as she talks to Olivia and Jillian—two of Caroline’s best friends. The newlyweds are still taking pictures. My stomach growls, and I pop an apple cinnamon bacon bite into my mouth.

  “Actually, I’ll take that bet,” Tyler says. “Put me down for a hundred that he cries.”

  “Oh, hell,” Sawyer chuckles. “I’m in for a hundred too.”

  I swing my gaze toward my sister. “Come on, Haven. You in?”

  My sister smiles. “While I normally wouldn’t bet against my husband, I will this time.”

  “Well, with that logic, I guess I’m in for Brant not crying,” Maybelle adds.

  “You’re all terrible, you know that?” This comes from my mom.

  I sling my arm around her shoulders. “Just a harmless bit of fun, Mom.”

  “You know, your dad sobbed when you were born, Weston.”

  “Well, that doesn’t surprise m
e. I’m your miracle,” I tell her.

  She pats my arm. “All my kids are miracles.”

  “How are you holding up, Mom?”

  She orders a glass of wine and then turns to face me. “Two of my kids are married, and I’m going to be a Gigi soon.”

  I narrow my eyes. “A Gigi?”

  “It’s a casual version of grandma, and it’s easy for kids to say.”

  “Ahh. Sounds like grandma only much cooler.”

  She laughs and sips her wine. “Gigi is my name and spoiling will be my game.”

  “You should put that on a T-shirt.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “By the way, I don’t know if Caroline told you, but we invited Minka to spend the Fourth of July with us at the lake.”

  Mom tilts her head to look at me. “She told me. All of you were one step ahead of me. I wouldn’t dream of letting Minka spend the holiday alone.”

  Chrissy approaches with some questions about the dinner service. Chrissy owns Thistle and Rye. Caroline used to work there part-time before she opened her boutique.

  “It’s a gorgeous wedding.” Minka stands next to me and grabs the glass of wine that the bartender has just poured.

  “You’re gorgeous,” I whisper in her ear.

  “Minka, the cake is stunning,” Haven chirps. “I’ve seen your work in magazines and online, but in person—just wow.”

  “Thank you. That’s a huge compliment. I can’t wait for you all to try it.”

  Cheers and claps ripple through the small crowd. A smile breaks across my face when I see Brant kissing Caroline.

  Haven, Maybelle, and Minka comment on Caroline’s dress. Something about the A-line silhouette and the ruched fabric. Aside from the ivory color of the dress, here’s what I know—it’s floor-length with short sleeves. Brant’s navy suit and light blue tie matches most of the flowers around the room.

  “Hey, guys,” Jillian says. “Caroline and Brant want to get pics with all of you. So, it looks like Tyler and Haven are up first.”

  Tyler and Haven walk toward the bride and groom, leaving the two of us to talk with Maybelle and Sawyer.

  Maybelle turns to face us. “Haven’s pregnant.”

  “Oh, jeez, babe,” Sawyer scoffs. “Can’t you keep a secret?”

  My brows rise. “No way . . . she’s drinking.”

  Maybelle laughs. “She’s drinking sparkling cider. Plus, she told me.”

  “Another wedding with another pregnancy. Christ, there’s something in the water around here.”

  Caroline was a few months along at Sawyer and Maybelle’s wedding. I give Minka the rundown of the details and how Brant and Caroline spent Valentine’s Day in the clinic at Kroger.

  “What about the two of you?” Minka gestures her wineglass between the two of them.

  Sawyer nearly chokes on his bourbon.

  “Obvious, honey, real slick,” Maybelle presses her hands between his shoulders. “We’re still enjoying the honeymoon phase.”

  Sawyer shoots me a glare. “What about you, Weston?”

  “What about me?”

  “You gonna settle down?”

  “I’ve been giving it some thought lately.” Surprise hits me as the words come out so effortlessly. If Minka is surprised by my answer, her expression gives me nothing.

  The relationship talk quickly turns to food and what’s on the menu for tonight sounds incredible. My stomach growls on cue. I’ve eaten my weight in appetizers. The din of the crowd hushes for a moment, and I catch Minka talking about Celia.

  “I’ve heard boys are easier to raise than girls’,” Minka laughs. “I grew up with two younger sisters, and my Celia is all girl.”

  “Yeah, I’m positive Caroline’s having a girl,” Maybelle assesses.

  “I think you’re right about Caroline having a girl,” Minka agrees.

  “Weston and Minka,” Jillian calls out. “You’re up next.”

  Minka’s eyes pop wide. This time, the surprise is clearly written on her face.

  “Let’s go.” I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “Looks like we’re getting our picture taken together.”

  She blinks up at me. “I . . . I . . . shoot.”

  My hands land on her shoulders. “Hey, it’s just a picture with my brother and Caroline. It’s okay.”

  “I might have told Caroline that we hooked up in Hawaii.”

  Now it’s my turn to be surprised. “Might have or did?”

  She grimaces and it’s freaking adorable. “Did.”

  “Doesn’t bother me. Now let’s go get our pictures taken.”

  “But, what if . . . ,” she protests.

  “Relax, it’s fine. We’ll get a few pictures and we’ll have a nice memory. Brother of the groom and you can be the sexy cake lady.”

  Relief passes over her face and her posture unwinds. Her hand brushes against my arm, I feel the warmth spreading through me. With her gaze unwavering, it seems almost impossible to look away from her. The air between the two of us crackles.

  “Let’s go, you two,” my brother’s voice booms out. “I’m starving, and my wife needs to eat too.”

  “Minka, come stand beside me,” Caroline shouts.

  “You better do what the bride says,” I tease.

  Her eyes soften and I think about kissing her, but I restrain myself. I focus on my brother and his moment. We finish taking pictures and one of the waitstaff brings Brant and Caroline drinks.

  “Congrats, buddy.” My hand grips his shoulder.

  “Thanks, brother. Given the short notice of it all—if you’d been in Bali or some other part of the world, you might have missed all this.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably true, but I’m glad I could be here for your big day.”

  “See, roots aren’t so bad.” His big hand slaps my shoulder. “I’ll be there for your big day too. Whenever that might be.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.” I tip my drink back as my gaze rakes over Minka.

  Minka

  The lake house is filled with noise—one barking dog, Julep, Caroline’s pup, laughter, music, and adults debating the proper way to make corn on the cob.

  Everything about this house and the people in it screams family. Something I haven’t been used to in a really long time, maybe ever.

  Celia and I are family. We have our traditions—she spends most holidays with me because her dad is usually on the road with his band.

  Growing up, holidays were never like this, ever. We were lucky if Mom took us to the park for the fireworks. Grilling meats or anything—never happened until I learned how to do it.

  Family gatherings were few and far between even before Dad left. We never had my mom’s family over, and it was rare if we went to Mom’s sister’s house out in Naperville.

  Mom wasn’t particularly close with her sister, Janie. There was a lot of resentment between the two of them. I think because Janie was the youngest and lived closer to their parents, and my mom felt some guilt that she wasn’t around as much to help out.

  To be honest, I never really knew my grandparents. They lived in Singapore and the Solomon Islands before settling in Naperville, and that happened when I was in college in Toronto.

  Noah’s family isn’t close either. They claim to be, but honestly, they talk shit about one another every chance they get. Noah’s brother, Ian, and his wife Mari are what I like to call one-uppers. I never had the desire to be around them. Noah’s dad and uncles are storytellers, and I never believed ninety percent of their bullshit.

  Wes’ family is the complete opposite of what I’m used to. And if I’m honest, it’s a breath of fresh air that I’m enjoying, even if it’s only for a little while.

  I wonder how Celia would like having a big family. She’s always wanted siblings, but maybe she’d settle for a bunch of little cousins.

  Noah said he wanted more kids. We tried again two years after Celia was born, but I had a miscarriage. We kept trying and then it was on to hormone shot
s, but nothing worked. After all that, we just sort of abandoned the idea.

  My career began to blossom.

  Noah started touring more. His band was selling out stadiums and arenas within hours of tickets going on sale.

  Life, I guess, it just got in the way.

  “Minka, how do you make sweet corn?” Caroline shouts from the stove.

  I laugh. “You guys aren’t going to let me keep any of my secrets, are you?”

  “Probably not,” Maybelle says, sliding her blond hair over her shoulder.

  Iris takes a sip of wine. “We won’t tell anyone.”

  “Okay, well, I boil the corn on the cob for ten to fifteen minutes. But my trick is using milk and butter along with water when I boil.” I walk into the kitchen and give the instructions to Iris and Caroline.

  Haven’s sitting at the table sipping a glass of water. She looks miserable, but she’s doing a really good job of hiding it. I know the look of nausea anywhere.

  I pull a lemon wedge from the refrigerator and walk toward her.

  “Hey, Minka.” She smiles weakly.

  “Feeling nauseous?” I ask, treading lightly.

  “Yeah, and this heat isn’t helping.”

  “When I was pregnant with Celia,” I start, and her gaze cuts to Maybelle. “I won’t breathe a word.”

  “My mom just thinks I’m exhausted from working too hard and jetlag. We’re planning on telling everyone soon.”

  “It’ll be a great surprise. But first, let’s get that nausea under control.”

  Relief passes over her face. “Yes, please. I’ll do anything.”

  I hand her the lemon wedge. “Lemon and ginger worked for me. Bland, carb-rich snacks like crackers, dry cereal, and pretzels worked too. Also, you can try cold treats like watermelon and popsicles. If none of that works, you can try peppermint aromatherapy or acupuncture.”

  She squeezes the lemon wedge into the water and takes a long drink. “Thank you so much. I’m sending Tyler to the grocery store with a list.”

  “That’s a good idea. Hopefully, something will work.”

  “I miss wine,” she motions to my glass.