She smiles.
And blushes.
And looks out the window. “Why are we at the train station? It’s empty this time of—oooh.”
Exactly.
It’s empty this time of day.
Passengers for the scenic route have cleared out. The paddleboarders and kayakers on the lake have all packed up and gone home.
Zen and one of the triplets are at Emma’s house, taking care of Bash’s bedtime for us.
And I’m taking this woman that I’m absolutely obsessed with on a privately-catered date in the middle of the historic train station on the lake.
Robert parks the SUV in the empty parking lot on the far side of the lake, hops out, scans the area, then holds the door for Emma.
I slide across the back seat and climb out on that side too.
“What did you do?” Emma breathes. “And when?”
The sun is glowing above the mountains in the distance behind the town, making them hazy. The weather’s warm. Emma’s in one of her summer dresses with a shawl in case she gets cold. Her hair’s in a messy ponytail, and she swapped out her hiking boots for sandals.
And she’s fucking gorgeous.
Just like this.
I told her we were going somewhere casual. That she should be comfortable over dressing up for anyone.
She’s eyeing the ornate train station with its large doors and old windows and potted plants near the entrance like it’s a Michelin-starred restaurant and she’s in her underwear.
I squeeze her hand, then use the other to gesture to the grand entrance. “Shall we?”
“What did you do?” she repeats.
I grin.
She eyes me, and then she laughs too.
Even before we get inside to find—oh,fuck me.
Sabrina and Laney are here.
Here.
They’re both dressed in all-black, from their shoes to their aprons. One’s holding a bottle of wine. The other’s holding a tray of appetizers. Together, they flank the two-person table set up at the open windows overlooking the deck beyond the train tracks, the lake, and the town and mountains above.
“Welcome, madam,” Sabrina says to Emma. “You look beautiful, even holding hands with the riffraff.”
Laney shoots her a look, but her lips are wobbling. “Chef Bitsy will arrive shortly with your dinner. In the meantime, would you care for wine, a bread course, and deviled eggs?”
Emma’s lips are having a hard time deciding what to do, but she finally smiles. “I love deviled eggs.”
“The chef had a gut feeling,” Sabrina replies dryly.
I carefully glance around the empty train station.
Ticket window is closed. The benches lining the windows are empty. Trash bins somewhat full, like the cleaning staff hasn’t been in yet. Sun streaming through the warped glass windows, lighting dust specks in the air and putting rainbows on the old, broad-planked floor.
