I forced a smile, but the second Carson’s gaze found mine, the world narrowed to a thrum in my chest.
He didn’t smile widely.
Just enough.
Just for me.
And that tiny curve of his mouth felt like a match being struck inside my ribs.
Oh no.
Dinner was going to be a disaster.
A slow-burning, heart-thumping, extremely inconvenient disaster.
And there was absolutely no way out of it now.
Chapter Eighteen
Carson
The Hungry Buck was louder than I expected.
It wasn’t rowdy, but it was alive and buzzing and somehow cozy. It had a distinct Northwoods vibe. The place glowed with warm amber light reflecting off knotty-pine walls and hanging antler sconces. The scent of woodsmoke and grilled walleye drifted through the dining room, tangled with the sweetness of brandy from the bar. Families filled the vinyl booths, laughter rising above the clatter of ice in tumblers.
This was a real supper club, and I felt like someone had dropped me into the center of a postcard that was a little too picturesque, too warm, and too welcoming in a way that made something under my ribs ache.
The Harper family, naturally, fit right in.
Beck barreled ahead, waving at half the room like the mayor of Buttercup Lake. Fiona walked next to Violet, and Violet’s partner, Owen, looped his arm through hers. They ordered the first round before we even reached the bar.
And Sienna…
I tried not to look at her. I failed within two seconds.
She wore dark jeans and a fitted cream sweater that hugged her in ways that made my pulse thrum a little too hard. Her hair was down, falling in soft waves around her shoulders, catching the light every time she moved. She laughed easily, her voice slipping into the noise of the supper club. It just felt right…too right.
I kept my hands tucked in my jacket pockets and reminded myself this was socializing, not a date. In fact, it was more of a business obligation than an invitation to complications.
But she was radiant in a way that tugged at my attention every few seconds.
“Carson!” Beck shoved a cocktail menu in front of me. “Pick your poison. First round’s on me.”
“Hey, there’s Ben,” Fifi said, grinning and waving over her guy.
I glanced at Sienna, noticing how everyone was paired up…but us.
She glanced at me and grinned, and I had a feeling she was thinking the same thing, so I turned my attention to the menu.
It was all Brandy Old Fashioneds, ice cream drinks, and a list of cocktails, proudly unchanged since 1972.
“Brandy, Old-fashioned sweet. House cherries. Don’t you dare order it wrong,” Violet instructed.
I nodded toward the bartender. “Exactly what she said.”
The bartender grinned and disappeared to make it.
Sienna stood across from me near the wooden bar railing, laughing as Fiona tried to explain the correct way to prepare a relish tray to a group of tourists.
