Page 3 of Business Casual
That’s the trouble with growing up the youngest of four. I know they mean well, but my siblings tend to treat me like an unruly toddler in need of constant supervision. I know that’s why Harper came over here. Beckett too. I think they’ve got a version of me stuck in their heads where I’m four years old and struggling to keep up, mud on my cheeks and gummy worms hanging out of my mouth. Beckett still puts his big hand on the top of my head when we’re in parkinglots like he’s afraid I’m going to run directly into traffic. I’m twenty-six years old.
I cut my eyes toward him.
“Has Layla forgiven you yet?”
“Ah.” Beckett rubs the back of his neck and glances around the field. I spot Layla by the cake table in a pretty maroon dress, her back against her fiancé’s chest and…glaring daggers at Beckett.
Beckett sighs, low and slow. “I don’t think so, no.”
“That must make work difficult.”
Beckett is one-third of the trio that runs this farm. Stella oversees the marketing and business, Layla runs the bakery, and Beckett is head of farm operations. Things have always been smooth sailing between the three of them, though this certainly seems like a hiccup.
“It hasn’t made it easy,” he sighs.
“Clearly.”
“I think the wedding brought up some feelings.”
“Well, she and Mom will have something to commiserate about, then.”
Beckett drags his hand over his face. “Is she still mad too?”
Harper and I snort in unison. “Beckett, you’re her only son, and you eloped on a Tuesday afternoon. She didn’t even get to make a slideshow of your baby pictures. Or do any of those creepy mashup things of you and Evie that predict what her future grandkids might look like.”
Beckett’s cheeks flush a furious shade of red. Last month he showed up to family dinner with a shit-eating grin, a new gold ring on his finger, and hiswifeon his arm.
“Layla’s just mad she didn’t get to make the cake.”
“Of course she’s mad she didn’t get to make the cake. I’m surprised she didn’t write it in the fine print of her contract.”
“She probably did,” he grumbles. He glances up, winces, and then finds something interesting in the grass by his feet to study. “She’s probably going to take me to court for breach of contract.”
“You’d deserve it.”
Across the dance floor, Layla’s eyes narrow like she can hear exactly what we’re saying. Caleb curls his arm around her without looking away from the person he’s talking to, his palm at the base of her throat. His thumb rubs up and down the long line of her neck, and she relaxes in increments, head tipped back against his shoulder.
I don’t know what the hell is in the water in Inglewild, but the last five years have been a domino effect of couples…coupling. It started with Stella and Luka and cascaded all the way down. My brother and Evie. Layla and Caleb. Matty, the pizza shop owner, and Dane, the sheriff. Mabel from the greenery and Gus, the town paramedic. I’m pretty sure the two stray dogs that circle around the fountain in the middle of town are even going steady now.
“It’s also entirely possible that she wanted to be there for you on one of the biggest days of your life.”
“I wanted something small,” he explains with a sigh.
“It doesn’t get smaller than you, the bride, and the courthouse official.”
He takes a healthy swig from his beer. “The hot dog guy too.”
“What?”
“The guy who sells hot dogs in front of the courthouse was the witness.”
Of course he was. “That’s great, Beck.”
Beckett shifts in his chair, leaning back and slinging his arm over the back of it. His gaze jumps around the reception and then his whole face brightens like someone just flicked a Bic lighter behind his eyes. I follow his line of sight to where Evie is weaving through the tables toward him, still in her flower crown from the ceremony. Her eyes find my brother and hold, a soft smile blooming on her pretty face.
For a long time, I thought Beckett was as uninterested in relationships as I am. But then Evelyn showed up and my brother fell fast and hard.
They move together seamlessly, like they’ve choreographed thisdance. Beckett tips his leg slightly to the left as Evie closes the space between them. She perches herself on his lap with an arm around his neck, and he lifts her hand from his shoulder, mouth brushing briefly over the inside of her wrist and the dainty little lime wedge I inked there.
