She raised a brow. “Do you say that to all your guests?”
“Only the ones who make me regret not wearing cologne.”
She rolled her eyes for his benefit, but the grin tugging at her lips was harder to fight. He turned toward the bar, grabbed a drink, and returned with a tall glass of iced sweet tea.
Her favorite.
“Ice over steeped leaf water and a scandalous amount of sugar,” he said, offering it with a wink. “Just how you like it.”
Exhibit B. Still unfairly charming.
“Thank you.” She accepted the glass, willing her knees to obey reason.
“I’m drinking tea too,” Lucy announced proudly, lifting her own glass like a toast. “And Daddy’s letting me give out menus!”
To which Lucy turned and plucked a menu from a nearby pocket attached to the side of the bar, sweetly offering it to Daphne. “Is he?”
Finn nodded solemnly. “She’s been promoted to menu delivery assistant.”
That earned a slip of a laugh from her—blast it again—and she turned her attention back to Lucy. “Well, I can’t imagine a better one. You’d brighten anyone’s day, sugarplum.”
Lucy’s grin tilted in that lopsided way Daphne was growing dangerously fond of.
“And I see your dad is pulling out all the stops to win this competition.” She narrowed her eyes. “Adorable helpers? Very strategic.”
When her gaze came back up to Finn, something in his expression caught her full attention. It looked the same as the one she’d seen when he came to pick up Lucy in her apartment yesterday. Gentle and intense at the same time. Stalling her breath all over again.
“Just proves how hard I have to work to compete with you.”
Her smile flared before she could stop it. Competition had never looked so appealing.Doggone it.Time to rein in her face.
“Forty or so people here,” she said, glancing around. “All looking very charmed into loving you and your food, I see.”
“Not everyone.” Finn lifted a brow. “Still working on one.”
Her cheeks heated instantly, so she ducked her gaze to the menu. “I guess, then, I should try some of the food to see for myself.” She zeroed in on the first meaty item—anything to escape his stare. “The ribs?”
Safe choice. She could hide in a napkin if needed.
“Bold move in such a dress, Miss Austen.” His grin tipped as he skimmed over her with another toe-curling look. “But a smart one.” He offered a little bow. “Take a seat.” He gave his dark brows a playful wiggle. “I’ll bring you the order personally.”
She gave him a very deliberate eye roll and turned on her heel toward the booth where Lindsay, Travis, Rosemary, and Granny D sat. Granny was just finishing a story about her great-grandfather Bum Jacobs and a moonshine run gone wrong.
Appalachian names had their own... something. She wasn’t sure what. But they had it.
“Oh, Daphne, you’re in for a treat.” Lindsay waved her forward, and Daphne slid in next to Granny D. “Finn has these beer-battered onion rings that are change-your-life delicious.”
“I think they could be at the wedding,” Travis added, his eyes sparkling with a hidden laugh. “But Lindsay doesn’t agree.”
“We arenothaving onion rings at our wedding.” Lindsay shook her head. “No matter how good they are.”
“Okay, but what about the smoked Gouda mac?” Travis all but pleaded, waving toward his plate. “I’m serious, Linds. Everyone in my family and yours would love it. I’d throw elbows for this stuff.”
Despite herself, Daphne laughed. “It’s that good?”
“I imagine he’ll bring some with the ribs.” Lindsay pointed her fork toward Granny D. “It’s whatsheordered and”—her smile turned apologetic—“it would be delicious at the rehearsal dinner.”
The words slipped through Daphne like a pin to a balloon. Her smile faltered.
