“Right. Definitely. Canadian blood can only get her so far.”
Before he leaves, he steps close and lifts the lid off the tray to steal his own chicken nugget. He holds my gaze as he pops it into his mouth. “It was nice to meet you, Sarah.” He offers me a teasing grin, and it’s all I can do not to suck in a gasp. Carter Williamson is handsome. But when he smiles, handsome turns into something else entirely. “Be sure to save some chicken for the rest of the kids,” he says, then he turns and walks away.
I’m still flustered when I find Anna in the kitchen. I set the chicken nuggets onto the counter, then tug her into the large butler’s pantry past the fridge, away from the small crowd milling around the island and picking at the appetizers.
She doesn’t even flinch at the disruption, but she does grab a box of animal crackers off the pantry shelf. She helps herself to a handful. “I swear, this baby is making me so carb-hungry,” she says before popping a cracker into her mouth. “What’s up with you?”
“I want to know why Miles is talking about me with one of his teammates.”
“He is? Which one?”
“Carter Williamson,” I say. “He knew I went to SCAD, that I’m from Winnipeg, that I’m an artist…”
“You’re Miles’s sister,” she says. “Of course Carter knows you’re from Winnipeg.”
“Fine. But you know how Miles is. He’d die before wanting me to date any of these guys. Why is he talking about me at all?”
She rolls her eyes. “He wouldn’t die. He’s only protective because he thinks you need protecting. You could always just tell him you don’t.”
I prop my hands on my hips. “Are you avoiding my question?”
“Of course not. I’m just sure it’s nothing. Miles talks about you because he loves you and he’s proud of you. Carter just pays attention more than most people do. That’s probably what you noticed.”
“That he pays attention?”
She waves her hand around like she’s annoyed I’m not grasping her meaning. “He listens. And remembers stuff.Like…he’ll ask me about Poppy’s dance recital if he hears me mention taking her to rehearsal. Or, after my mom died, the team got together and sent flowers, but Carter made a separate donation to the animal shelter because a year before, he met Mom at a team dinner, and she mentioned she volunteered there.”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s legit.”
“He’s just that guy. Thoughtful. Kind. Super courteous.”
I lean against the wall behind me, considering this new information. “It hardly seems fair,” I say. “He’s a pro athlete, he looks the way he looks, and he’s a good guy?”
“I know, right? And here I thought your brother was the only one.”
I reach over and steal an animal cracker. “Miles forgot your anniversary last year.”
She frowns. “He did, didn’t he? I guess it’s lucky he’s so good in bed.”
“Anna, gross,” I grumble, though I’m used to her making comments like this. My brother and his wife are disgustingly in love.
“The point is,” Anna says, “you could do a lot worse than Carter Williamson. He’s genuinely a great guy.” She moves to the pantry door and looks across the kitchen to where it blends into the open concept living room. “He’s also an identical twin. His brother is nice too, but Carter’s my favorite because of how much my girls love him.” She points. “Right there. Standing next to the fireplace talking to Holly. That’s Carter’s brother, Theo.”
Sure enough, there is a man who looks remarkably similar to Carter standing on the opposite end of the living room. His hair is a little longer and he’s clean-shaven, but everything else about him is pretty much the same.
“Holy genetics,” I mutter under my breath, and Anna chuckles.
“Right?”
“And they both play professional hockey. What are the odds?”
“One of the most elite defensive pairings in the league. Carter is left-handed. Theo is right. They’re pretty amazing.”
“Who’s Holly?” I ask. “Carter was outside with a little girl named Charlie.”
Anna’s face softens. “I told you about him, remember? He’s the goalie. Beckett Hollifield. The guys call him Holly. His wife died of cancer last summer.”
“That’s right,” I say, the goalie’s full name triggering my memory. “Around the same time your mom?—”
