“Honey,” I said, trying not to smile, “you’ve got six older brothers. Very protective ones. I wouldn’t be surprised if Quint, Rory, and Finn show up as well.”
She went pale. “All six of them?”
“Yep. Just keep your chin up and see what Hunter’s made of. If he can handle your brothers and Buddy, you’ll know he’s worth it.”
“That’s a lot to ask a guy to go through,” she whispered.
I tried not to laugh. “Totally agree. Sorry.”
Violet sighed and stood. “Yara will help me, thank goodness.”
“She will,” I agreed. “I wish you the best of luck.”
She gave me a mock glare. “Gee, thanks. You’re absolutely no help.”
The girl had a point. “I know.”
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
My stomach rumbled right on cue. “Starving. What’s good today?”
“Everything’s good,” she said, her tone brightening. “But we’ve got a Cobb salad as the special.”
“I’ll take one,” I said. “And sparkling water.”
She tightened her apron. “Coming right up, and again, you’ve been zero help.”
“Noted,” I called after her, smiling as she disappeared into the kitchen.
The sound of sizzling from the back mixed with the steady patter of rain against the windows. For a moment, everything felt perfectly ordinary in just a quiet afternoon in Silverville before the next inevitable disaster.
Tessa moved over to help another table, giving me a quick wave. Even her hand looked tired.
The door opened again, and a rush of cool, damp air swept through. I glanced over my shoulder and paused. A striking older man stepped inside, scanning the room with a confidence that didn’t need announcing. He spotted me instantly.
He crossed the floor with easy precision, the click of his polished shoes echoing against the wood. “You must be Anna Albertini.” His voice was smooth and deep, touched by just enough gravel to sound interesting.
I stood and shook his offered hand. “Hi. Please, sit. You must be Zippy O’Bellini.”
“Yes,” he said, lowering himself gracefully into the chair across from me. He had to be over six feet tall and looked to be in great shape, especially for someone probably in his sixties. His suit was a three-piece slate-gray number with a matching vest and a blue tie with a perfect cut. Thick, silver white hair, cascaded back from his angled face. Those dark brown eyes didn’t miss much.
“Tell me about yourself.” I watched him over the rim of my water glass.
“Not much to tell,” he replied easily. “I grew up in Montana. My family spent a lot of time in Silverville during the winters to snowmobile and snow ski, and we had summers up at Lilac Lake where we water-skied and got into trouble.” His smile was small but practiced. “Now I’m ready to retire. Silverville has always been the dream.”
Smooth. Too smooth.
Violet appeared beside us with her notepad, a little out of breath. “Hi. Can I get you anything?”
“I ordered a Cobb salad,” I said.
Zippy nodded. “I’ll have the same, and a diet soda, please.”
“Of course,” Violet said brightly. “Right away.”
As she left, Zippy’s gaze followed her briefly. “She’s a pretty girl.”
“She is,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. He had made the statement matter-of-fact and not creepy. Kind of like a grandfather noticing the younger generation. “And she’s family.”
