“How’s the progress on your goals list going?” he asked, pulling my eyes to meet his.
“So-so.” I sipped my water to ease my dry mouth. “I’m satisfied overall, I think.”
“How do the flowers and all your suitors work with your need to give up on love?” Davis asked.
“The bouquets are from Annie,” I said, enjoying the surprise on his face at my reveal. “And the suitors are a figment of your aunt’s imagination.”
“Not all of them, I’m sure.” Davis’s lips quirked as he dug into his salad with new gusto.
It was possible he wasn’t wrong, so I bravely showed him my mysterious letter.
Davis wiped his mouth on a napkin, eyebrows high. “You’re letting me read it?”
“Why not,” I said, smiling again. “You claim to know everyone in town. Maybe you can help me figure out who sent this.”
Something like satisfaction flashed in his eyes, and he reached for the letter. “Challenge accepted.”
We divided the next two hours between the table and the dance floor, enjoying a multitude of amazing foods and speculating on the identity of Forever Yours.
By the time we left, I was a little tipsy.
“I’m not sure you should drive,” I said. “You’ve had a lot to drink.”
“I had two beers in almost three hours and plenty of food. You had four ciders, and I’m at least twice your size.”
I folded my arms and leaned my head back to frown at him. “Are not.”
I lost my balance, and he caught me with a shake of his head. “I’m not sure if you’re arguing your size or the number of ciders, but either way, you’re wrong.”
“I think I should walk it off,” I said, gripping his wrist with both of my hands while I regained my bearings. The air felt crisp and cool, guaranteed to shape me up before I got home.
Davis wiggled his hand free from my grip and set it on my back, silently nudging me forward. “All right. I guess we’ll walk.”
“Yay!”
He chuckled.
We walked in companionable silence for several moments before a sleek black car pulled up to the curb at our side.
Davis stiffened, and he tucked me behind him as the dark window powered down.
I peeked carefully around his arm, clinging to the back of his sweater for balance.
“Hey, kiddo,” a man said, a strangely plastic smile on his face. “Kind of late to be out for a walk, isn’t it?”
A pretty blonde leaned across from the passenger seat. Her tight red dress rode high on her thighs as she waved.
Davis didn’t acknowledge her.
“What do you want, Dad?” he asked, sounding immediately exhausted. It was Carter. The man I’d met on the porch of Village Books. Davis’s father.
He sucked his teeth, apparently irritated by Davis’s response. “You haven’t responded to my messages.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Clearly.” Carter’s gaze flicked to me.
Davis’s hand, still bent behind him, tightened on my hip. “I started the reno at Hearthstone Manor.Architectural Digestis coming to photograph it this week.”
