Everywhere and Every Way
Page 73
Cal let out a breath and dropped them on the counter. “Fine. But my brothers live here, for God’s sake. Why do they get special treatment? They should be helping in the kitchen.”
“Because it’s nice to do things for family.”
“I’m nice. I keep Dalton stocked in Hershey bars. And I ordered that ridiculous French wine Tristan drinks like water. Cost me a fortune.”
Her face softened as she gazed at him. Sexy as hell, dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt left open to expose his muscled chest, he took her breath away. Hair damp from his shower spilling messily over his forehead, he stood in bare feet cutting up tomatoes, his musky, masculine scent filling her nostrils like the sweetest perfume. His outer gruffness hid a mushy heart that she was falling for more every day.
“You’re a good brother,” she said quietly. “You’re a good man.”
He looked up. His gaze devoured her whole, leaving nothing behind she hadn’t already given him. “You bring out the best in me.”
Her throat tightened. Morgan opened her mouth, desperate in that one moment to tell him how much he meant to her, but the sound of his brothers’ voices filling the hallway stopped her.
“Tomato and mozz! Awesome,” Dalton said, grabbing a fat piece of tomato.
Cal slapped at his hands. “We didn’t even put the oil and basil on! Hands off. Better yet, get your ass to work. Sydney and Brady are going to be here soon.”
“What’s cooking?” Tristan asked, peering into the supersized Wolf oven.
“Spiral ham. Shrimp with grits. Zucchini and carrots. Biscuits and gravy.”
“Damn, this is better than I thought. How’d you get to be such a good cook when you’re stuck in hotels most of the time?” Tristan asked.
Morgan smiled and handed Dalton a stack of fancy china plates. “Here, set the table. My mama is Southern born and raised, so I learned to cook when I was young. Y’all don’t understand a woman is nothing if she can’t put a solid meal on the table and serve in three-inch heels.”
“I’d love to meet your mother,” Cal said, mixing up a bowl of oil, garlic, and basil. “Does she look like you?”
“Yep. Many say we look more like sisters than mama and daughter.”
“A dangerous combo for your daddy, I bet,” Tristan commented. “No siblings?”
“No, just me.”
“Does she ever fly in to see your final projects?”
Cal asked. “I’m sure she’s proud of the work you do.”
Morgan carried a crystal vase filled with pink roses into the dining room. “She tells me all the time how proud she is. I’m lucky to have her. And yes, sometimes she’s able to come see me at the end of a project. Not this one, though. They’re having the floral parade in Charleston, and she’s booked solid through fall.”
“Then maybe we’ll have to go see her,” Cal said.
She stumbled slightly and cut him a look. He winked and got back to chopping. It was the first time he’d mentioned a future after the house was completed. They’d grown closer the last two months, falling into a routine that soothed her soul. Morgan knew they needed to have a serious talk and see where they were willing to take their relationship. If he wanted to. Her heart leaped, but she was careful not to get her hopes up. She needed to concentrate on finishing up the Rosenthals’ home and then deal with her burgeoning emotions for Caleb Pierce.
They worked in a steady rhythm until the doorbell rang.
Sydney and Brady stood on the step with Becca. Her bright red hair was curly, reminding Morgan a bit of Little Orphan Annie. Her white skin, freckles, and sea-green eyes could have landed her a movie role. She was all Sydney. Morgan gave Sydney and Brady a quick hug before kneeling down in front of Becca. “Hi, Becca. I’m so glad you could come tonight.”
Becca grinned, popping out matching dimples, and Morgan’s heart was fully captured. “Thank you for inviting me. Mama said you can come over again to watch Inside Out. I like Sadness the best, even though Joy is supposed to be the star.”
“I’d love to see that movie. I made a big dinner. I hope you’re hungry.”
Becca nodded. “I like to eat a lot of things but not brussels sprouts. You’re not cooking those, are you?” she asked in a worried tone.
“Becca,” Sydney warned. “We’ll eat whatever Morgan cooked for us.”
Morgan laughed and offered her hand to the little girl. “No brussels sprouts. I don’t like them, either.”
Brady tugged on the girl’s curls and tickled the back of her neck. “Neither does Uncle Brady. Yuck!”
Becca giggled, and they made their way into the kitchen. Dalton greeted them in his usual relaxed way, but Tristan seemed more formal. His gaze studied her with a bold curiosity, and he nodded quickly to Sydney, obviously uncomfortable in her presence.
Interesting.
“Watch out—the hounds are coming!” Cal called out.
Balin and Gandalf had been tucked in the back room while they prepped dinner, and now the scrambling of paws on the floor hit her ears. They came whirling around the corner, lost footing, and skidded right in front of Becca and Sydney. Morgan went to grab them in case the gentle giants scared Becca, but the little girl opened her arms in sheer joy and hugged them both at once.
They could have easily knocked her over with their tails or greeting, but instead they plopped themselves down in front of her, as if recognizing she was a child and they needed to be gentle. Balin moaned in ecstasy as Becca rubbed his fur, and Gandalf bumped his nose against her leg, urging her to do the same to him.
Sydney laughed and rubbed Gandalf’s belly. “You guys are getting better,” she said. “Did you finally graduate obedience school?”
Cal snorted. “Heck, no. I tried getting them re-registered and was told the class is full for the next year. I think they’re lying.”
Brady shook his head and handed off a bakery box with a bottle of wine. “I told you, Cal, they need a firm hand. Animals respond to discipline. Same thing in relationships.”
Sydney and Morgan stared at him. “What did you just say?” they asked in unison.
Brady held up his hands in defense. “Let’s be honest, ladies. A weak-willed, waffling man is not attractive.”
Becca looked up from the dogs, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I like nice men,” she announced. “They’re the best.”
“Because it’s nice to do things for family.”
“I’m nice. I keep Dalton stocked in Hershey bars. And I ordered that ridiculous French wine Tristan drinks like water. Cost me a fortune.”
Her face softened as she gazed at him. Sexy as hell, dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt left open to expose his muscled chest, he took her breath away. Hair damp from his shower spilling messily over his forehead, he stood in bare feet cutting up tomatoes, his musky, masculine scent filling her nostrils like the sweetest perfume. His outer gruffness hid a mushy heart that she was falling for more every day.
“You’re a good brother,” she said quietly. “You’re a good man.”
He looked up. His gaze devoured her whole, leaving nothing behind she hadn’t already given him. “You bring out the best in me.”
Her throat tightened. Morgan opened her mouth, desperate in that one moment to tell him how much he meant to her, but the sound of his brothers’ voices filling the hallway stopped her.
“Tomato and mozz! Awesome,” Dalton said, grabbing a fat piece of tomato.
Cal slapped at his hands. “We didn’t even put the oil and basil on! Hands off. Better yet, get your ass to work. Sydney and Brady are going to be here soon.”
“What’s cooking?” Tristan asked, peering into the supersized Wolf oven.
“Spiral ham. Shrimp with grits. Zucchini and carrots. Biscuits and gravy.”
“Damn, this is better than I thought. How’d you get to be such a good cook when you’re stuck in hotels most of the time?” Tristan asked.
Morgan smiled and handed Dalton a stack of fancy china plates. “Here, set the table. My mama is Southern born and raised, so I learned to cook when I was young. Y’all don’t understand a woman is nothing if she can’t put a solid meal on the table and serve in three-inch heels.”
“I’d love to meet your mother,” Cal said, mixing up a bowl of oil, garlic, and basil. “Does she look like you?”
“Yep. Many say we look more like sisters than mama and daughter.”
“A dangerous combo for your daddy, I bet,” Tristan commented. “No siblings?”
“No, just me.”
“Does she ever fly in to see your final projects?”
Cal asked. “I’m sure she’s proud of the work you do.”
Morgan carried a crystal vase filled with pink roses into the dining room. “She tells me all the time how proud she is. I’m lucky to have her. And yes, sometimes she’s able to come see me at the end of a project. Not this one, though. They’re having the floral parade in Charleston, and she’s booked solid through fall.”
“Then maybe we’ll have to go see her,” Cal said.
She stumbled slightly and cut him a look. He winked and got back to chopping. It was the first time he’d mentioned a future after the house was completed. They’d grown closer the last two months, falling into a routine that soothed her soul. Morgan knew they needed to have a serious talk and see where they were willing to take their relationship. If he wanted to. Her heart leaped, but she was careful not to get her hopes up. She needed to concentrate on finishing up the Rosenthals’ home and then deal with her burgeoning emotions for Caleb Pierce.
They worked in a steady rhythm until the doorbell rang.
Sydney and Brady stood on the step with Becca. Her bright red hair was curly, reminding Morgan a bit of Little Orphan Annie. Her white skin, freckles, and sea-green eyes could have landed her a movie role. She was all Sydney. Morgan gave Sydney and Brady a quick hug before kneeling down in front of Becca. “Hi, Becca. I’m so glad you could come tonight.”
Becca grinned, popping out matching dimples, and Morgan’s heart was fully captured. “Thank you for inviting me. Mama said you can come over again to watch Inside Out. I like Sadness the best, even though Joy is supposed to be the star.”
“I’d love to see that movie. I made a big dinner. I hope you’re hungry.”
Becca nodded. “I like to eat a lot of things but not brussels sprouts. You’re not cooking those, are you?” she asked in a worried tone.
“Becca,” Sydney warned. “We’ll eat whatever Morgan cooked for us.”
Morgan laughed and offered her hand to the little girl. “No brussels sprouts. I don’t like them, either.”
Brady tugged on the girl’s curls and tickled the back of her neck. “Neither does Uncle Brady. Yuck!”
Becca giggled, and they made their way into the kitchen. Dalton greeted them in his usual relaxed way, but Tristan seemed more formal. His gaze studied her with a bold curiosity, and he nodded quickly to Sydney, obviously uncomfortable in her presence.
Interesting.
“Watch out—the hounds are coming!” Cal called out.
Balin and Gandalf had been tucked in the back room while they prepped dinner, and now the scrambling of paws on the floor hit her ears. They came whirling around the corner, lost footing, and skidded right in front of Becca and Sydney. Morgan went to grab them in case the gentle giants scared Becca, but the little girl opened her arms in sheer joy and hugged them both at once.
They could have easily knocked her over with their tails or greeting, but instead they plopped themselves down in front of her, as if recognizing she was a child and they needed to be gentle. Balin moaned in ecstasy as Becca rubbed his fur, and Gandalf bumped his nose against her leg, urging her to do the same to him.
Sydney laughed and rubbed Gandalf’s belly. “You guys are getting better,” she said. “Did you finally graduate obedience school?”
Cal snorted. “Heck, no. I tried getting them re-registered and was told the class is full for the next year. I think they’re lying.”
Brady shook his head and handed off a bakery box with a bottle of wine. “I told you, Cal, they need a firm hand. Animals respond to discipline. Same thing in relationships.”
Sydney and Morgan stared at him. “What did you just say?” they asked in unison.
Brady held up his hands in defense. “Let’s be honest, ladies. A weak-willed, waffling man is not attractive.”
Becca looked up from the dogs, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I like nice men,” she announced. “They’re the best.”
