“That was a marriage kiss!” Bettina insisted. “I want my money! I bet that they would get back together, and here they are.”
“We can’t confirm it!” Art hollered back. “No one’s getting any money until I get a marriage certificate or a utility bill with both their names on it.”
“I’m calling the police!” Dottie shouted.
“Oh my god!” Minnie shrieked over the din. “Meg, what happened to your hair?”
I grabbed at my head in horror. The heavy kiss had been too much for the hair gel. The burned patch of hair was sticking straight up from my head. “Crap!”
Hunter peered at me.
“Don’t look at me.” I held up my bag to cover my hair.
Hunter’s nostrils flared. “Did Walter do that?”
“Are you kidding me? What the—no, he didn’t do that!” I shrieked. “I was trying to straighten my hair, and I burnt it off. That’s the last time I try and impress you on a date, Hunter Svensson.”
“See!” Bettina hollered, picking up her empty breadbasket and hurling it at Art. “It’s a date. You owe me money!”
Zoe held two fingers up to her lips and let out a piercing whistle. “No betting in my restaurant! And stop throwing things.” She stomped over to us. “We have a table free upstairs.”
The rooftop was a bit less rowdy than the main-floor restaurant. But people still gawked as we walked to a table near the back that looked out over the historic train station.
“Guess all three of us are going to be all over the Facebook group,” Hunter joked.
“Three?”
“You, me, and what’s left of your hair.”
“Screw you,” I mumbled as Hunter leaned over to kiss me.
Zoe set down a small pitcher of the raspberry gin rosemary muddle. I ignored the glass.
“I’m not sharing this,” I said to Hunter as he watched me drink out of the pitcher, bemused.
58
Hunter
Igrinned and leaned back in my chair and let out a relieved laugh.
All through the tense car ride with Meg, I had been worried that she was on to me, that she knew I was turning up the charm to convince her to go along with my brothers’ ill-conceived plan.
It was heartbreaking. Meg looked amazing in that dress. And the way she laughed and joked as we talked about the campaign and dealing with the various committee meetings—this was what I wanted for the rest of my life, for us to be together. I wanted a thousand evenings like this with her.
If the election didn’t blow my last chance with her, then whenever she found out about my sisters, that would be it. It would be the final nail in the coffin of our romance. I needed to savor every moment of being with her like this.
Meg held out a hand and placed it on mine. “Where did you go?”
“Hm? Oh, just thinking about what I’m giving you for dessert tonight.”
“I ate all the tiramisu,” she confessed. “If that was where you were headed.”
Her hand was still on mine. I placed my palm on it.
“They have banana pudding here,” she suggested. “We could take it to go.”
Fuck, I loved her. “I think I can give you a better banana pudding than anything you’d find here.”
