Daniel follows my gaze, and his mouth curves with something between amusement and respect. “She’s been managing Suttons for forty years. You think she doesn’t know when to make herself scarce?”
“She planned this. The whole conversation, sending me to the larder?—”
“Probably had the timing down to the second.”
I should feel manipulated. Maneuvered. Handled like one of her stubborn boys who need steering toward the obvious conclusion.
Instead, I’m grateful. Because I’m not sure I would’ve let myself see what was right in front of me without someone clearing away the things I was hiding behind.
My phone buzzes against the counter. I ignore it. It buzzes again. And again.
Daniel sighs against my temple. “That’s not going to stop.”
“I know.” I steal one more kiss—quick, fierce, promising more—before reaching for the phone. Kitty’s name flashes on the screen, and I can’t keep the grin off my face as I swipe to answer.
“Hey, you.”
“You sound weird.” Kitty’s voice is sharp with suspicion. “Why do you sound weird? What’s going on? Did something happen?”
I look at Daniel. He’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, watching me with an expression caught somewhere between smug satisfaction and pure wonder. Like he can’t quite believe this is real.
I can’t quite believe it either.
“I’ve got a job for you,” I tell my sister, “if you’re up for it.”
Chapter 10
Daniel
The house sounds like a cattle drive collided with a bridal magazine.
I stand in the kitchen doorway with my coffee halfway to my mouth, watching Miss Maggie direct traffic like a general commanding green troops. Kitty’s got fabric swatches spread across the table in some color-coded system that puts my supply manifests to shame. Two women I don’t recognize are arguing about chair covers with the intensity of diplomats negotiating a ceasefire.
And Delaney?—
Delaney’s got her laptop open, her phone pressed to her ear, and that white-knuckle grip on her pen that means she’s three seconds from using the sharp end as a weapon.
“Yes, I understand the florist had a family emergency.” Her voice is tight in that way that tells me she’s been professional for about six hours too long. “But we need centerpieces by Saturday, so I’m asking if you have any referrals?—”
The laptop pings. Her jaw flexes.
“Can you hold for one second?” She mutes the call and types something one-handed with enough force to crack the keyboard.
I set my coffee down and cross the room.
“Daniel, sugar, what do you think about ivory versus cream for the—” Miss Maggie starts.
I hold up one finger without breaking stride.
She grins. Four decades of running this family. She knows exactly what I’m about to do.
I reach past Delaney and close her laptop.
“What—” She spins, phone still at her ear, eyes flashing. “I’m on a call.”
“You’re off duty.” I pluck the phone from her hand, unmute it. “Ma’am, we’ll call you back.” I hang up before the florist can respond.
Delaney stares at me like I kicked her dog and insulted her spreadsheet formatting in the same breath. “Daniel.”
