He nodded once, polite and steady, then went to pour himself coffee like nothing in the world had happened last night.
But I caught it.
The flicker of something in his expression. The little upturned lips, not smug, maybe something better.
Carson turned around with his mug.
“Morning,” he said.
Why did he have to have that voice?
It was all deep, calm, and slightly rough, just like on our outing.
I cleared my throat. “Morning.”
The siblings watched us like we were a documentary series about rare animals attempting courtship rituals.
Carson nodded to the table. “I’m going to be in the gear shed doing inventory.”
My heart reacted before my brain could form a sentence.
Fiona kicked my shin. “Sienna can help!”
I choked. “I can?”
Carson paused. “If you want to.”
I wanted to die.
Violet shoved me out of my chair. “She wants to.”
“Great,” Beck said. “Have fun kissing, I meanworking.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Brothers are the worst.”
“Love you too,” Beck said.
I grabbed my coffee and marched toward the back hall with the false confidence of a woman who was absolutely losing her mind.
Carson followed.
Behind us, Fiona stage-whispered, “I give them two hours before another kiss.”
“Twenty minutes,” Beck said.
“Five,” Violet added.
I considered flinging myself into the recycling bin.
Outside, the cold air hit me like a blessing because I was internally combusting. It was crisp, quiet, and peaceful with no smirking siblings and side commentary.
Only the crunch of our boots across the lightly frosted ground and a few birds chattering from the pine branches overhead.
Carson walked beside me, hands in his pockets, profile calm in a way that made it difficult to breathe.
I tried very hard not to look at him.
I failed almost instantly.
