“Oh no, ma’am. The chef is delighted to assist you. He conveys his deepest well-wishes.” The man’s eyes softened. “Your families have done so much for this town.”
Both Eve and Livvy murmured their thanks. Gabe kept silent. He’d grown up in the Kane household, but as the housekeeper’s kid, albeit a well-treated one, he’d always been on the outside looking into this world.
Eve picked up her phone. “Livvy, I’ll call you later to talk about those other items.”
“Gotcha. Bye, guys. Gabe, I can’t thank you enough for pitching in.”
Gabe placed his napkin on the table, relieved he wouldn’t have to choke down any more sweets. Give him bags of potato chips any day. “No thanks necessary, kiddo.”
“No one’s given you grief over my canceling today’s appointments, have they?”
One girl had yelled at him this morning. Gabe didn’t blame her—Livvy’s specialty was watercolor tattoos, and people traveled from all over to see her. But he wasn’t about to tell the overwhelmed bride that now. “Nope. We have it handled. Feel better.”
Gabe and Eve gathered their belongings, Eve shrugging on a light jacket that blessedly covered her lush arms.
Gabe squinted at the spring sunshine when they came outside. The last frost had passed, and the days were growing longer. The perfect weather for a hike, Paul would have said.
Gabe shoved the pang of grief aside. After almost two years, Paul Kane’s death shouldn’t still feel so sharp, but reminders of his old friend often came when he least expected it. They’d grown especially strong since Livvy and Jackson had moved back home. Paul’s younger siblings were nothing like him, but occasionally Livvy would smile or Jackson would roll his eyes, and Gabe would feel a need to excuse himself for a minute or so.
Eve finished typing something on her phone. “I can’t believe we managed to get Chef José on such short notice.”
“Is Jackson peeved he doesn’t get to make the cake?” Jackson had a strong aversion to crowds, which was why Gabe was taking his place at Livvy’s side in the wedding party. One of her bridespeople, as Livvy called them. A world-renowned chef, Jackson was instead handling the food for the event.
“I think between taking care of his café and his mother and making sure Sadia doesn’t wear herself out with wedding planning, Jackson has his hands more than full. He was the one who asked me if we could outsource this. He’d prefer to concentrate on the wedding dinner menu.” Eve tucked her phone into her purse. “Thanks for coming with. I know this task isn’t in your wheelhouse.”
“Is picking cake in your wheelhouse?” It was a genuine question. Prying details out of Eve about her life was like chipping away at a stone tablet. Time-consuming and a little hypnotic.
He might have been raised on the estate that neighbored the Chandlers’, had even been best friends with Nicholas, but he’d been so much older than Eve she’d barely registered on his consciousness when they’d been young.
And then the split between the two rich families had happened. Though they’d lived in the same town, his interactions with the Chandlers had been sporadic at best. He’d seen Eve twice over the years—once when she’d come into his shop with a friend, and a second time when she’d been a drunken coed in a bar. He hadn’t viewed her as anything more than a kid either of those times. A lost, shy, vaguely lonely-looking kid.
When grown-up Eve had been reintroduced into his life a month ago, at a lunch Livvy and Nicholas had hosted, that kid was long gone. Her body was curvy, her face innocent yet erotic, with full lips and sharp eyes. She was buttoned up inside and out, not a single emotion or spare inch of skin visible.
Lust and desire had hit him instantly, but he was a grown-ass man, and he’d tamped it down. Slowly, over the past few weeks, that desire had grown. And now here he was, salivating at the sight of her bare arms.
Good thing you can’t see her ankles. You might straight up die on the spot from lust.
“I do eat a lot of cake.”
He looked down at Eve. She was so sweetly rounded but so much smaller than him. He’d never been particularly attracted to short women, but he imagined she would fit perfectly under his arm.
Imagine is all you’ll ever do.He made his tone deliberately light. “I eat a lot of burgers. Is there a wedding burger that needs to be chosen?”
Another twitch of her lips. “Please don’t give Livvy any ideas. We’re at capacity on what we can whip together in the next week or so.” Her voice was low and throaty. It skimmed over all of his nerves and senses, promising rough and lusty delights.
“I’ll try not to.”
They stopped at her car, a nicely maintained Acura. It was bland and personality-less. As were her clothes, a brown silk shirt and wine pants. She was like a painting framed with the most mundane of wood, but she’d shine no matter what she wore.
You sound like a smitten fool. You’re too old for this.
Was he? No, probably not. But he was definitely too smart for this.
A strand of mahogany hair flew in her eyes and she pushed it away. Her wrist was surprisingly delicate for such a sturdy woman. “Well, thank you for coming with me today. I know you’re probably busy making sure your shop will survive without you for the week.”
“Nah, it’ll be fine. Business has been on the slow side this month. Junie and Rod can handle anyone that turns up.” His business wasn’t a huge moneymaker, given the size of the town, but he was good at what he did and hired good artists. With social media and word of mouth, they did pretty well. Enough that he could afford to leave the place for a week when he needed to.
“Good.” She hesitated, and something moved behind her eyes. Unable to help himself, he took a step closer.
