Copper Lining (The Cardwell Family Series Book 3)

by Christy Pastore

  I never realized the gift my parents gave us when they allowed us to break away from our roots here and travel the world, study abroad, and immerse ourselves with other cultures.

  In doing so, I learned so much about myself.

  Minka stirs and stretches her arms above her head. “I think I took a little cat nap. A girl could get used to this life.”

  “So why don’t you,” I offer.

  I see her brows rise above the top of her sunglasses. “What?”

  “I know Brant offered you a job. A permanent position with the company.”

  “You know, or you put him up to it?” Annoyance floods her tone.

  “Minka, I think you know well enough by now I don’t make my brother do anything. He only said something to me this morning at the market.”

  “So, you knew nothing about his offer?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. But I’m glad he knows talent when he sees it.”

  She tosses her head back in a laugh. “You’re laying it on pretty heavy there, Wes.”

  My hand strokes up and down her slim leg. “Pfft, just telling you how it is.”

  She opens her mouth to speak, but there are no words. Her lips form a smile. Minka slides off her tube and stands in front of me. Whatever she was going to say gets stuck in her throat.

  When she licks her lips, I can’t help but stare. My hands move to her hips, squeezing just enough that a small moan escapes.

  “Damn,” I groan and lean in to kiss her.

  Minka sighs, her soft lips perfect against mine. She tastes sweet, like the peach and apple seltzer she’s been drinking. My dick takes notice of her sweetness, and I stop myself from pushing into her.

  Minka has other ideas. She slings her legs around my waist, and my hands cup her ass, holding her in place.

  I get lost in the kiss until I feel her shiver.

  “You cold?” I ask against her lips.

  “A little.”

  My hands grip her waist, and I pretend to let go. But then I move and toss her in the water. Off in the distance, I see her float has drifted at least ten feet away.

  “Hey, that’s mean,” she shouts and splashes me with water as I swim past her.

  “All bets are off now,” I yell out and maneuver around the canoe’s anchor toward the float. “I gotta get this before Mom loses her mind. This is her favorite float.”

  She squeezes the water from her hair as I swim back toward the sandbar.

  “I’ll just tie your float to mine.”

  She smiles and dives under the water, popping up through the center of the tube.

  “So, what do you think about Brant’s job offer?”

  She reaches up and into the cooler for another can of seltzer. “I’m waiting on the contract to make a decision. There’s a lot to consider. Celia loves her school and friends. And as much as I detest my ex-husband, my daughter loves him.”

  I laugh and take a long pull from my beer bottle. “Okay, what would it take to sweeten the deal for you to move here?”

  “Weston,” she groans. “I’m not doing this with you.”

  “Why not?” I tease.

  She splashes water in my direction. “Because I know that you will pull out all the stops to get me to stay here.”

  “You and Celia.”

  She smiles.

  “Cards on the table . . . what’s your dream job? Are you actually doing what you love?”

  “Are you?” she challenges.

  “Honestly, I’ve never been happier. I think I drifted around because I never thought I had a purpose here. I didn’t think I’d find fulfillment. But with the shakeup in the company—and believe me, I cursed old Samuel Cardwell plenty, but it’s like Brant, Maybelle, and me—and you—have a chance to start fresh. Take the company in a new direction. It’s pretty cool to be a part of this rebranding, so to speak. I don’t know, maybe it’s silly thinking.”

  She reaches for my arm. “It’s not silly at all. That’s what I think about too. Building my brand and leaving something for Celia. Um . . .”

  Again, she hesitates, and her words get stuck. Is she keeping something from me?

  “I feel like you’re not telling me something.”

  She chuckles. “My publicist called and the Love and Dine channel wants to give me my own show and the offer includes my own cookbook. The money is . . . well, it’s really generous.”

  I swallow thickly. “Wow, Minka, that’s incredible. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. It’s a really awesome offer, Wes. I’d be able to write a cookbook which has been a dream since I started this whole blogging thing.”

  My heart takes a tumble. As much as I want Minka to stay here in Kentucky, I know she has dreams of her own, and with those dreams comes a lot of responsibility.

  “I love working at Cardwell. I love the freedom of creativity. I had a blast at Tyler’s restaurant the other night. I like bouncing from project to project, and if I’m being honest, I love being a part of a family.”

  “Why do I have a feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming?” We float toward one another and my hands reach for hers.

  “You know I have to think about my daughter. She’s the priority.”

  “I know you do. That’s what makes you an incredible mom,” I say and drop the subject.

  We float around enjoying the sunshine and silence aside from the occasional fish jumping out of the water and the lapping of waves against the canoe.

  Once we’re drained from the afternoon of sun and fun, we shower and change. While Minka finishes getting ready, I fire up the grill and prep the steaks.

  Minka and I talk and laugh over dinner. But all I hear is the ticking of the clock. Her time in Mayfield is drawing closer and closer to being over. The sound of the clock in my head takes a pounding rhythm.

  I wish we had more time.

  Guess I’ll just have to make the most of it.

  As she moves to set the dishes in the sink, I drop to my knees behind her. My hands run up her thighs and I grip her hips, positioning her right where I need her.

  “Time for dessert.”

  I eat her up and swallow her release as she chants my name over and over. My name on her lips as she comes is etched on my brain and in my heart.

  Morning arrives too soon. I reach for the sheets next to me, but Minka isn’t there.

  My heart pounds in my chest.

  She’s gone?

  Can’t be. How would she get back to town?

  Panic swirls as I remember that morning she left me alone in Maui.

  Seconds later, she appears with two mugs of coffee.

  “What?” She shakes her head.

  “Nothing. I just . . .”

  She laughs and hands me a mug. “You thought I left, didn’t you?”

  “The thought crossed my mind.” I blow the steam away from my cup.

  “There’s no way I’m walking back to Mayfield alone. I don’t know what kind of wild animals are out here.”

  I laugh and take the coffee mug from her hands.

  “Hey! I’m not done with that,” she protests.

  “Well, I’m not finished with you.”

  I kiss her hard and we slip under the covers. I’m instantly lost to everything in that moment—except her.

  “Wes.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your phone’s buzzing.

  I move and swipe it from the nightstand. “Oh shit, the baby shower is at noon.”

  “Oh my gawd, Celia will be home in thirty minutes. Crap!”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have you home in twenty.”

  I hustle to get showered and changed. Minka ties her hair up into a bun and changes into a yellow sundress.

  “No walk of shame for me,” she laughs.

  “Not on my watch,” I tease.

  I get her back to the apartment with minutes to spare, and then I sneak down the stairs to Brant and Caroline’s apartment to see if they need any help.

  At least I get another da
y with Minka, even if we’re not totally alone.

  Minka

  Celia took a long nap when we got home from the baby shower.

  Brant and Caroline are having a girl. They’re thrilled beyond words.

  I’m cleaning up after dinner thinking about today, which leads me to think about Wes. The two of us have settled into a relaxed routine and managed to avoid any kind of serious conversation. At least no conversations about what’s next.

  At this point, I haven’t made a decision about my own future, so there’s not much I can give Wes. I’d like to give him more. My attraction to him is strong. But I’ve known this since Maui.

  Fear, passion, ache, and trust all battle in my head. Do I love Wes?

  I don’t know.

  I’ve loved two men in my life—my father and Noah. Each one caused me a different heartache when they both left me.

  Wes won’t leave. He’s different.

  He is different. But that doesn’t mean things won’t change.

  My sister, Anya, called later that night to wish Celia a happy birthday. I stood in the kitchen listening to Celia talk excitedly about the baby shower and all the fun she had swimming at Wes’ parents’ house.

  “Yeah, and my mom’s friend, Wes, he’s really cool. There’s a festival next weekend, and we’re all going to eat barbeque and play games. I’m so excited.”

  I finish the dishes and pack Celia’s lunch for day camp while Celia talks to her cousins.

  “Okay, that sounds good, thank you,” Celia says. “Here, Mom, Aunt Anya wants to talk to you. Can I have screen time before bed?”

  “Shower first, please, and brush your teeth.”

  She nods. “Got it.”

  I tug my earring out and lift the phone to my ear. “Her birthday isn’t until the fifteenth,” I remind my sister.

  “I could have sworn her birthday was today.” I hear the rustling of paper, which tells me that she’s turning the pages in her Smythson datebook. “Oh, look at that, oops. Well, it’s a good thing I called today because we’ll be on vacation during her birthday. We’re going to Aruba. I won’t be able to call. And now that I have time, I need to know where you’re at so I can send the gift.”

  I give my sister the address for Cardwell Bourbon and tell her to address it to me. She asks me about the Bourbon festival that Celia mentioned. I give her a quick rundown.

  “So, who is this Wes person? This friend of yours?”

  At the mention of his name, my stomach does a flip. “Weston Cardwell. He and I have been working together.”

  “Oh, is he like your boss or something?”

  “No. I guess Brant’s my boss. You know that I’m a consultant, right?”

  Ignoring my question, she continues her assessment. “Brant, Cece mentioned that you two went to a baby shower today. I’m quite sure she said that it was for him and his wife.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “That’s interesting. And you and Cece have been spending a lot of time with Wes and his family.”

  It wasn’t a question. Per usual, there’s judgment in my sister’s tone.

  “What are you driving at?”

  “It’s nothing. Just that Cece says that Wes comes over to cook, and he’s hosting her birthday party.”

  I exhale and count to five.

  “First of all, Wes made one meal and he’s not hosting. I’m hosting, and it’s at his family’s lake house.”

  “The Cardwell family looks like they’re a pretty big deal. Wes is only twenty-nine and a vice president.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “It’s on the company website. He’s ridiculously cute. Young, but cute. Is there something going on between the two of you?”

  “My personal life isn’t your concern.”

  “I’m only asking because you need to be careful. Women who mess around with the boss or men in charge . . . well, what if this gets out and hurts your reputation?”

  “Oh, for the love of . . .” I pause, choosing my next words carefully. “Anya, don’t pretend to be worried about my reputation. I’m doing fine without your concern. Maybe you should direct your worries toward Zara.”

  “I am concerned—about you both,” she grinds out. “But this isn’t about Zara. This is about you and how you’re allowing Celia to get attached to a family that is not her family, and how she’s going to get hurt when you go back home to Malibu.”

  I roll my eyes. “Santa Monica.”

  “What? What about Santa Monica?” Confusion is apparent in her voice.

  “We live in Santa Monica, not Malibu. I’m sure that’s what you tell all your country club friends though, isn’t it?”

  “It’s an honest mistake, Wilhelmina. You don’t have to be so snippy.”

  I close my eyes, feeling my jaw tighten. “Maybe I do. You don’t pay attention to any details in my life, and you never have. I’ve asked repeatedly for you to call me Minka. But you don’t seem to care.”

  “It’s a little mix-up! I’m terribly busy, too, you know. I’m trying to get ready for a vacation and I’ve got a charity benefit coming up. I’m sorry about the name thing.”

  “The name thing?”

  “You know what I mean,” she huffs out the words.

  “What you mean is to jab at me constantly. You know exactly what you’re doing. Have a safe trip.” Fuming, I hang up and stand there for a moment thinking about stealing some time at the gym downstairs after Celia falls asleep. I’m so mad I want to hit something.

  Or down half a bottle of wine.

  All of it sounds tempting.

  But I’ve got responsibilities—a little girl to take care of, who isn’t all that little anymore.

  Ugh. Anya’s snide judgment.

  She can shove her judgment.

  “Mom, I can’t find my pajamas with the mermaid on them.”

  “Oh, sorry, honey, they’re in the dryer,” I call out. “Let me go get them.”

  I blow out a deep breath and walk toward the laundry room.

  My phone pings and I smile when I see Wes’ name on the screen.

  Had a great time today. See you at work tomorrow, good night.

  Me: Same. Good night.

  Tomorrow is a new day. A new week.

  And one step closer to deciding the next phase of my life. Can I really have it all? The man and the career?

  Wes

  The weeks are flying by without incident.

  Bourbon Fest was a success, with two of our bourbons placing in the top three this year. We entered Minka’s bourbon bacon jam in the barbeque contest. Out of five judges, four of them voted for her recipe.

  I took a huge amount of satisfaction seeing the look of defeat on Mason Houser’s face when they lost.

  The jam is scheduled for production next month, and Brant’s giving Minka naming rights.

  Minka and I have spent as much time together as possible. Stealing as much alone time as we can. Working out during lunch. Grabbing breakfast before work.

  But I’ve had a lot of fun with Celia too. She finally got that horse-riding lesson from Pop. And as promised, I took Celia and Minka to The Penny Plate for burgers and fries.

  I don’t mean to brag, but I was pretty much a hero when I ordered the strawberry cheesecake milkshake.

  We’re setting up for Celia’s party when I hear Minka’s voice.

  “I think I’ll call the jam Cece’s Original Bourbon Bacon Jam.”

  “I like it. Has a nice ring to it.”

  “Maybe I’ll introduce a line of Cece’s brands . . . like the coffee creamer,” Minka says as she sets the table with the paper décor and balloons.

  The place is covered in purple, pink, white, and mint green banners and honeycomb tissue balls. That’s what Minka calls them.

  “You finished that?”

  She smiles. “I did. I’m waiting for Brant to give me the final word.”

  “That’s great.”

  I finish setting up the popcorn bar
. “Six kinds of flavors. Who knew?”

  S’mores, birthday cake, white cheddar, caramel, and even Fruit Loops.

  “Pinterest knows everything.”

  I chuckle. “So it seems.”

  “Hey, hey, anyone home?” my mom’s voice calls out from the foyer.

  “In here.”

  Mom appears in the kitchen with a huge plastic storage container.

  “What’s in the box, Mom?”

  “Stuffed animals. I gathered up all the random fluffy toys I still had from when you kids were little.”

  My gaze swings to Minka. “What?”

  “For the cuddle station.” She swipes her iPad to life and shows me the picture. “The girls can snuggle with a stuffed animal during the movie or all night.”

  “Maybelle’s coming with the signs later,” Mom mentions. “And Caroline’s bringing her camera to take photos.”

  “Thank you so much, Iris. I cannot thank you enough for your help.”

  “Of course,” she says and pops the top of the container. “Wes, honey, look, I found Mr. Bear.”

  “Wow. I thought he disappeared years ago.” I swipe the bear from my mom’s hands.

  “Remember how you used to carry him everywhere? He was your most prized possession.”

  “Friend, Mom, not possession.”

  “Gosh, Minka. He used to take Mr. Bear to the grocery store, and there wasn’t a night those two weren’t sleeping side by side.” My mom’s grinning from ear to ear. I can practically hear Minka smiling at my embarrassment.

  “Thanks for that reminder.”

  Mom claps her hands together. “Now, how can I be of more help?”

  “You’re welcome to put the stuffed animals on the wall. Most everything else is food,” Minka mentions. “I don’t want the milk and donuts sitting out.”

  I carry the plastic tote toward the bookshelf across the living room.

  “Well, this looks like it’s going to be a very festive party,” Mom singsongs.

  “You’re welcome to stay if you want,” Minka offers.

  “Only if you tell me that you have adult beverages.”