Page 48

“He’s not a lettuce,” Estella, Carson’s niece says, her ponytail shifting as she tilts her head to the side to give Matteo a weird look.

Caleb is sitting on the couch in front of him and smiles back at his nephew. “I mean, the sound is the same. My name is Caleb, but your dad calls me Cale, so it’s up to you.”

“Uncle Caleb,” Matteo says, testing it out, as his eyebrows pull together. “Uncle Cale.” He rolls his lips. “I think I like Uncle Caleb better.”

Caleb nods and winks at him. “Me too.”

“I have another uncle. Uncle Vince,” Matteo explains, switching gears. “He used to play hockey.”

“That’s fun,” Caleb says. He shoots a glance at me before looking back at Matteo. Caleb and Carson have very similar features, the shape of their jaws and noses. They have the same color hair, but Caleb’s eyes are blue instead of gray. “Maybe hecan come to a game sometime next season,” he adds with his smile drifting.

The Archers were knocked out of the playoffs two nights ago in game seven. They fought hard and I know the guys must be feeling the loss, although Carson has yet to comment on it.

“He would love that!” Matteo exclaims. “He works teaching people now or something.”

“He’s an English professor,” I explain, offering Caleb a small smile.

“Very cool,” Caleb says. There’s a slight smile still on his face as he looks from Matteo to his daughter Estella. “Tella, why don’t you and Matteo go see if you can find that frog in Uncle Cars’s pond again.”

“Oh!” Estella claps her hands then reaches for Matteo’s hand and drags him with her. “Come on, Teo. There was this little frog jumping around the last time I was here and he was so cute!”

The sound of their voices and feet drift through the house before they disappear through the backdoor into Carson’s fenced in backyard. In the back right corner of his property, there’s a small man made pond with a little waterfall. It isn’t very big, but when I wandered over to it yesterday morning, I didn’t see a frog anywhere.

Carson walks toward me and takes a seat on the couch beside me. “Is he a Ford or is he a Ford?”

Caleb’s gaze meets his brother’s and he chuckles. “Oh, he’s definitely a Ford. It was clear in the picture you showed me of him, but it’s in his mannerism too.”

“So, the two of you are hard headed then as well?” I ask, a playful smile on my lips as I glance back and forth between the two of them. Caleb chuckles as he lifts a bottle of water to his lips to take a sip.

“No, Trouble, he must get that from you.”

Caleb half chokes on a mouthful of water he just took. “Trouble?”

“It’s nothing,” I say dismissively at the same time Carson speaks.

“It’s something I like to call her.”

Shit. My face burns and I glance at Carson who studies me carefully. His expression is unreadable and I see his brother glancing between the two of us from the corner of my eye.

“Interesting” Caleb muses, his voice low. The back door abruptly opens but there’s no footsteps running through the house. Anxiety washes over me and I immediately sit up straighter and crane my neck to see what is going on.What if something happened to Matteo and she’s afraid to tell us?

“Daddy!” Estella calls out loudly with excitement. Matteo is jumping up and down behind her and relief floods me. “We found the frog and there’s another one. Come look at it!”

Caleb is already on his feet, his smile broad as he heads in the direction of the kids.

“Mom! Dad! Come too!” Matteo's voice calls out after them.

I rise to my feet, my lips parting to respond, but I stop the moment Carson’s hand wraps around my wrist. Spinning on my heel, I find him standing behind me, his eyes glued to mine.

“Wait.” Carson says softly, his voice hoarse. I nod and he calls out to Matteo as he steps closer, his hand still on my wrist. “We’ll be there in a minute, bud.”

“What’s up?” I question as I tilt my head to the side and ignore my heart thumping erratically inside my chest.

Carson loosens his grip and the tips of his fingers begin to absentmindedly trace invisible patterns on the inside of my wrist. He’s standing close enough that I can smell him–a combination of leather and bourbon–and I have to tip my head back to look at him. “Does it bother you when I call you ‘Trouble’?”

My eyebrows pull together. “No.”

“You told Caleb it was nothing.” He pauses. His throat bobs and nostrils flare as his unwavering gaze penetrates mine. “It’s not nothing to me, but if you don’t like it, I won’t call you it anymore.”