Naughty Or Nice. Sherri Browning Erwin
I thought—jeez, it’s been a year almost.”
“A year’s not really that much time,” Josh said. “You loved him.”
“Very much, yes.” Breathing became easier. As easy as it was to dissolve into grief, it had become that much easier to snap out of it. I wiped my face. “But I’m fine. Really. I’m sorry to scare you.”
“It takes a lot more than a woman’s tears to scare me,” Josh said, removing his arm from my shoulder. “But I’d better get going.”
Suddenly I felt very grateful to Josh Brandon. Most guys would have fled for the door the second I became hysterical. Not Josh. He’d jumped right in to comfort me. It was a nice quality. “Stay for dinner. We’re having lasagna.”
“Yes.” Kate hovered near the end of the couch. “We’ve got plenty. Marc’s coming over, too, so it will be fun. Just the four of us and the kids.”
“Marc’s coming?” Just when I thought it was safe to relax, I sensed a double date scenario brewing. No problem. I would just have to make sure the kids took center seats, creating some space between Josh and me. They would make up any lulls in conversation and remove any of those awkward moments that might pop up if I had any renewed reason to believe he was attracted to me.
“He called earlier and I couldn’t resist asking him. The Patriots play Monday night this week, and it’s a home game. Not that he’ll be on the field with his knee acting up, but he still has to make it an early night, the perfect night for staying in with family.”
He was practically family by now. What was I thinking to even consider fixing Kate up with Josh? I wondered when Kate was finally going to give in and get as serious about Marc as he obviously felt about her. She hadn’t gotten over Owen. Yet. But I could see it was only a matter of time. To Marc’s benefit, he was like a father to Ellie. He’d even beat my parents to the birthing center for her delivery.
And in this corner, Josh Brandon.
I sipped my water and wondered if Josh had ulterior motives or if he truly was just a guy having dinner with friends.
Marc arrived for dinner with a big bunch of wildflowers in tow. Score one for Marc.
“They’re beautiful! Thank you.” Kate kissed him on the cheek. I glanced at Josh. No reaction. He stared straight ahead in the direction of the fireplace.
A second later, Josh was on his feet to do the guy greeting thing, a handshake and slap on the arm. “How you doing, man?”
“Not too bad,” Marc said. “Hanging in there. You?”
“Eh. Hanging in there,” Josh said. Men were so creative with words.
“Busted ankle, huh? Tough break.” Marc leaned over and rumpled my hair.
I’d almost forgotten about it. “It’s feeling a little better now. I should be able to hobble over to the dinner table without much trouble.”
“That’s my girl. Taking one for the team. And where’s my favorite little lady?” Marc looked around for Ellie, found her playing with her toes in the baby seat, and scooped her up in his arms. “Oo-wee, touchdown. Kate, I’m taking her up to give her a change.”
“How long has it been since you’ve had a fire in the hearth?” Josh asked after a minute, as if the question had been on his mind for some time.
“Oh, a long time,” I answered cautiously. Josh wasn’t exactly acting the part of the romantic suitor, but it was too early to tell what he, or Kate, had in mind. “Patrick was allergic to burning wood, so I’ve put decorative candles in there. It’s something.”
“Something, but not the real thing. There’s nothing like a blazing fire on a cold winter’s night.”
“True. I do miss it, actually. We’d thought about converting it to gas.”
“Gas?” Josh wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was a fine nose, not too angular, slightly wide. An Irish nose, I decided. Like Patrick’s. “But then you don’t get the outdoorsy aroma. And the flames aren’t the same. No. You’ve got to stick with wood.”
“I don’t know how to light a fire.”
“Would you mind if I had a look? Not tonight, I mean, but I can come over next week, get a look at the chimney in daylight. Clean her out, get a fire lit.”
“You want to clean my chimney?” It sounded like a lot of work.
“I want to light your fire,” he said, and the gleam in his eye matched the spark of any blaze. My stomach flipped. Was that a line? Please tell me he wasn’t resorting to cheesy lines. But he clarified. “I don’t have a fireplace of my own. It would be nice to have a fire. If you don’t mind.”
Sigh of relief. Maybe he was just hot for my fireplace. “No, not at all. You can come over and play around with it. I’m not sure about where to get wood and supplies.”
“You free Tuesday? We can go out together. I know a good place for wood. A guy out in Natick, he cuts it himself. He can deliver it, for a price, but it’s cheaper if I bring my truck out and fill it up there. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s pretty this time of year.”
“Yeah, sure,” I agreed. “Tuesday.” Tuesday. Nothing dangerous about heading out for firewood on a Tuesday, right? It wasn’t like it was a date. It wasn’t a date. Was it?
I made a mental note to make sure Kate was around on Tuesday. Safety in numbers. Just in case.
“Great, I’m going to go see if I can help your sister in the kitchen. How about I refresh your water while I’m up?” He reached for my glass.
I looked up and got lost in the blue of his eyes. It took me a minute to recover and speak. “Sure, but how about something stronger? There are some bottles of red in the kitchen, maybe a California cabernet?”
“California cab with lasagna? Are you kidding me?”
I rolled my eyes. Not another wine guy. Patrick would have said the same thing. “So, what do you suggest?”
“A nice throaty barolo.”
“I may have one of those. Feel free to look through the selection under the bar.” I gestured to the heavy, old-fashioned wood bar in the corner, a gift from Kate several Christmases ago that had delighted Patrick to no end. Maybe that was my problem with thinking of Josh as a romantic interest, that he reminded me a bit of Patrick. Or maybe it was the Italian wine. He was probably a fan of the North End, while I was more of a Southey kind of girl.
“Mmm. It all looks wonderful,” I said, looking over the bounty laid out on the table once I hobbled my way into the kitchen, embellishing a bit to maintain my status as the injured party. It wasn’t the usual spread I would have laid out for company, with my finer china and extra decorative touches, but Kate had used one of my nicer tablecloths to complement my everyday dishes, the heavy rustic earthenware. “Salad, too?”
“Courtesy of Josh.”
“Caesar is a specialty of mine,” he said proudly as he stopped filling glasses to dash over and help me to my seat at the head of the table. “I have a secret formula to make sure you get a crouton with every bite.”
I looked up, astounded. He had no idea that I had a similar secret formula, about which Kate teased me mercilessly. Kate and I exchanged a glance. Maybe I’d met my salad-making match.
Josh took the seat next to me, across from Kate, Ellie in her high chair, and Marc, who had put himself on baby duty for the evening to give Kate a break. The kids joined us and filled in the rest of the seats.
We passed around dishes, filled plates, and made comfortable conversation. The kids told us about their days. Josh complimented my lasagna, my mother’s recipe. I returned the compliments on his salad.
“If I’d