Page 51 of Something’s Brewing

“Sorry,” he said.

“You’re fine.”

They pulled onto the road, and the lake flashed silver through the tall pines. The deep ditches scarred the roadside, gouged with fresh ATV tracks.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before Garrett reached across her to adjust the air vent.

“Too cold?” he asked.

His arm brushed her shoulder, then lingered half a second longer than necessary.

“It’s fine,” she said, though her voice came out softer than she intended.

At a stop sign, he glanced over.

“You nervous?”

“About dinner?” she asked. “Not really.”

“Good.” He moved his hand almost absentmindedly, resting it lightly on her knee. “My family can be a lot.”

Madison looked down at his hand. Maybe he didn’t realize he’d done it . . . or maybe he did.

“I think I can handle them,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think you can handle anything.”

When they reached the Reid family home, Garrett parked and cut the engine, but neither of them moved right away.

Madison glanced at the time. “I think we’re a little early.”

“We are. I need to talk to my dad before everyone gets here.” He kept his hand lightly on her knee like he had on the drive, like it had already become a habit. “Can you fend for yourself?”

“No worries,” she said. “I’ve met just about everyone. I’ll be fine.”

She looked down at his hand.

Garrett noticed. He pulled it back and cleared his throat. “Come on.”

He guided her inside with a hand at her lower back—a small gesture that felt enormous.

The kitchen buzzed with activity. Pots simmered, Ruth diced tomatoes, and Kate perched on a counter stool, assembling a salad.

Ruth set the knife down, wiped her hands on her apron, and swept Madison into a hug. “I’m so glad you came.”

Madison handed Ruth the wine. “I hope it goes with dinner.”

“It’ll be perfect.”

Chloe slid past Madison with a stack of bowls and set them on the island. “Careful, you’re about to be recruited for peeling duty.”

“I can peel,” Madison said. She accepted a bowl of potatoes and a peeler from Chloe and got started.

Garrett stepped in beside her, reaching for a glass from the cupboard over her head. The movement boxed her in for a second—close enough that she caught the clean scent of soap mixed with lake air.

“Don’t let them bully you,” he murmured. “You’re a guest.”

“I volunteered,” she whispered back.