Soon, Makenna was guiding them into a stately neighborhood full of big, older homes and manicured lawns and tall, mature trees. Most of the houses were made of gray limestone and sat back off the narrow streets, allowing room for wide covered porches and winter-bare gardens out front. Christmas wreaths and garlands of pine boughs and holly already adorned the doors and windows of some of the houses, making the neighborhood even more picturesque.
All of a sudden, curiosity replaced some of the anxiety flowing through Caden’s body. Because all of this represented a part of Makenna he didn’t know. He’d heard her talk about her father and brothers, of course, and he knew her mother died when Makenna was little, but hearing stories and actually seeing where she was from were two different things.
“My house is up here on the corner. Turn right, the driveway’s on the side,” Makenna said.
Caden rolled to a stop in front of the house and leaned to peer out Makenna’s side window. Made of gray limestone, the place was beautiful. Three stories with a porch made for rocking chairs, windows flanked by black shutters, and soaring stone chimneys. An American flag fluttered in the cold breeze from its perch on one of the gray porch columns. “This is where you grew up?” he asked.
“Yep,” she said, smiling at him.
He met her gaze, and loved the happiness he saw there. Well, he loved so much more than that, didn’t he? Even if he hadn’t looked at that reality too closely. “It’s really nice.”
She looked out her window. “It was a wonderful place to grow up. Just being here gives me the warm and fuzzies.”
Be-beep.
Caden’s gaze flew to the rear-view and found a car sitting behind him. “Oh, shit, sorry,” he said, making the right turn.
Makenna chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. Oh, just park on the street,” she said when they saw that four cars already took up most of the driveway in front of the two-car garage.
Caden pulled the Jeep to the curb and killed the engine.
“Looks like my brothers are all here, but I don’t know who the Beemer belongs to,” she said, shrugging. When she turned toward him, she was wearing a smile so full of excitement and anticipation that he was surprised she was managing to sit still. “Ready to meet everyone?”
At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to make her happy, so he nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Now he just hoped he didn’t fuck everything up.
CHAPTER THREE
“I’m home!” Makenna called as she pushed through the back door into the rectangular mud room. A big bench seat with hooks took up one wall, and Makenna placed the jug of apple pie sangria and the tray of pumpkin roll on the bench as she hung her coat. Caden settled their bags on the floor and did the same. The house smelled like roasting turkey and savory stuffing and cinnamon, and it was so welcoming that her heart squeezed for the want of seeing her dad and brothers.
Her father rushed into the doorway that led to the kitchen. “There’s my peanut.”
Makenna laughed. “Dad,” she said as they hugged. She didn’t mind the ancient nickname. Not really. And, oh, it was good to see him. She stood back from the hug and took him in—his brown hair had a bit more gray in it since she’d last seen him over the summer, but otherwise he looked exactly the same. Bright blue eyes. Laugh lines from a lifetime of good humor. And wearing the old apron with a picture of a turkey breast and the words I’m a breast man! her brothers had thought was a hilarious gift at least ten years before. “I want you to meet Caden,” she said, stepping aside to let the men shake.
“Caden Grayson, sir,” he said as he shook her father’s hand. She could hear the nerves in his voice, but she had absolutely no doubt about her father’s ability to put Caden at ease. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“You, too. Call me Mike.” Her dad clasped Caden’s shoulder and guided him into the kitchen. “What can I get you to drink?” he asked, then rattled off a long list of choices.
“A Coke would be fine,” Caden said, standing beside the big island in the center of the open, airy kitchen.
Makenna brought her contributions to dinner in and sat them on the counter. The rustic white cabinets, honey-colored granite counters, and warm wooden floors had always made this her favorite room in the house. But man, if she didn’t like the room even better with Caden there. “I’ll get it,” Makenna said, grinning to herself as she leaned into the fridge. Everything was better with Caden.
Her dad engaged them in small talk about the traffic and the nice weather they were having and how much longer the turkey still had to cook, and Makenna could see the tension draining out of Caden’s shoulder. She covered his hand with hers where it rested against the countertop.