My best friend has two loves—lifeguarding and food. The day Graham falls for a woman will most likely involve food. I’ve no doubt. And perhaps those brownie points could come in handy.
“Move it, Lawless.” Hannah’s voice slams me from behind.
I spin around and drink in the sight of her, dressed in jeans and a silky shirt tied at her waist. Her brown top complements her curls, which she has pushed back with a headband, almost the same color as her top. I love the way her curls encircle her head in a wild halo. “Hey, Hannah.”
She brushes past me, leaving me in the wake of her scent, that’s a mix of floral and spice this time. And she’s carrying a pie just like the one I handed off to Graham.
I follow her into the house and then into the kitchen, admiring the way her jeans hug her curves. She’s also wearing some kind of canvas slip-ons that have dog silhouettes in the pattern. No surprise there. The woman has a heart for animals.
Hannah sets her pie on the counter next to mine. “Who’s as brilliant as me today?”
Arms crossed, I lean against the archway between the kitchen and the dining room where Liam’s setting the table. “That would be me.”
Hannah hits me with her high-beam smile. “Great minds.”
Mrs. McCarthy—Anna, as she insists I call her—hands Hannah a large bowl filled with a colorful salad. “Set this on the table, Han.”
While Hannah whisks the bowl away with a cheeky grin, I study these two women who look so much alike. It’s as if I’m glimpsing into the past, present, and future of the same person. Even to the curly hair, which Graham also inherited, although his is more auburn than strawberry blonde like his mother and sister. Plus, he shaves the back and sides but leaves the top long enough to pull into a man bun when he’s on duty.
Build-wise, Graham takes after his father, James McCarthy. And though Liam has his father’s darker hair and angular features, he somehow wound up the tallest and lankiest of the crew. I’m guessing some latent gene in the McCarthy lineage made a reappearance in him.
Anna sets a large bowl of mashed potatoes on the table, then wraps me in a mother’s hug that sends a pang through my chest every time. “I’m so glad you came. It’s been a while since we’ve seen you.”
I return the embrace. “I couldn’t come back until I could hug you with both arms.”
She leans away and pats my right shoulder. “You’ll be good as new in no time.” She glances over at Hannah. “She’ll make sure of it.”
As Anna dashes off to finish putting more food on the table than even the McCarthy clan can eat in one sitting, my gaze drifts to Hannah to discover she’s staring at me. Our eyes lock for a moment before she turns around and finds a seat at the table. The rest of her family takes their usual places—Anna at one end and James at the other, with the brothers on opposite sides. But with Hannah seated next to Graham, I’m left with the chair across from her, beside Liam.
Family chatter fills the space as bowls and plates make the rounds. In a way, it reminds me of the dinners my parents would host to impress their latest client, although servants did the passing of overladen platters of gourmet food.
In comparison, I think of Anna’s fare as comfort food. Tasty and made with love. The kind that not only feeds your body but also your soul.
“Nick, how’s the shoulder?” James gestures at me with the serving fork from the roast beef platter.
“Better, sir. Your daughter is a miracle worker.” I glance at Hannah and take pleasure in the shade of pink appearing at the top of her cheeks.
She drops a mound of mashed potatoes onto her plate. “Nick’s a good patient.”
Our eyes lock again for a moment, until I notice Graham’s gaze bouncing between us.
Not good. So not good. I start myHands-off-Hannahmantra in my head, determined to play the rest of the evening cool.
Anna, who’s sitting to my left, nudges me with a dish of green beans. “You need veggies, son.”
I’ve enjoyed many a meal in the McCarthy home, but every time Anna calls me ‘son,’ it hits me like the first time. Like I’ve been given a gift I don’t really deserve.
“Thanks.” I smile my appreciation at her as I take the bowl and scoop out a generous portion of beans—my way of showing respect for this woman, who’s been more like a mother to me than my own over the last few years. Not that mine is bad or anything. It’s just that, since I left law school, my parents and I seem to have very little in common. And then there’s the whole aspect of them not approving of my chosen profession.
When I pass the bowl, I notice Hannah’s head is lowered, but she keeps glancing at me through her lashes. I wonder if she’s aware of how Graham is watching her.
Maybe coming tonight was a bad idea. I may need to steer clear of family dinners until I’m done with physical therapy and have some time to undo this crush on Hannah.
Because if looks really could kill, I’d be dying a slow death by my best friend.
The night iscool when I walk out of the McCarthy house. A welcome change from the heat and humidity that lingered through September. I’m halfway down the path to my car, thinking I’ve escaped, when I hear footsteps behind me.
I’m fully expecting Graham when I turn around, only to see Hannah walking toward me, holding a large container.
