“I do,” Fiona said. “Is Max cute?”
“Mum! Dad’s just at the hotel.”
“I can look,” Fiona sniffed. “It’s a free country.”
Sheila ignored them, although, from the twitch at the corner of her mouth, it wasn’t easy.
“Are you a farmer, then, Flynn?” she asked. “It’s hard work.”
“It is,” Flynn said. His mouth slanted up in a self-mocking grin. “Too hard for me. I’m a mechanic.”
Sheila added two cubes of sugar to her coffee and stirred enthusiastically. “Still hard work,” she said as she set the spoon neatly on the saucer. “My late husband used to work at the Honda plant in Swindon. That’s where we met. Don’t know what he’d think of this place.”
It wasn’t clear if she was talking about the restaurant or Ceremony as a whole.
“Well, if he’s anything like me,” Flynn said, “he’d think that they charge way too much. And since I’m not paying, I’ll be having the steak.”
Sheila laughed. Apparently there was one thing on Ceremony that she liked, and it was Flynn. Before the conversation could go on, the waiter came over. Nate noticed that he had a rather weak chin, but the earlier flash of jealousy was apparently still hanging around.
“Can I take your order?” he asked.
Flynn ordered the steak, and so did Sheila, with a conspiratorial smirk over the table as she did so. It was fine by Nate. A steak was a small price to pay to keep her in a good mood.
Well, not a “small” price in the Tax Shelter, but acceptable.
Nate actually relaxed—a bit. Flynn left his arm hooked over the back of his chair, and it was warm against Nate’s shoulders. Snippets of disapproving commentary slipped past the general chatter of restaurant service and caught his ear.
“…just out in public like that. Like they have no….”
“…Flynn Delaney and the Moffatt boy. And his poor mother practically on her death bed….”
“…apparently he was fired for taking bribes….”
“…maybe he’s paying him….”
Nate resisted the urge to turn and find the source of that last murmur, just to ask who she thought was paying.
“It was lovely to meet you, Flynn,” Sheila said as they left the restaurant with neat pink cardboard boxes of leftover dessert. She held out a hand with a narrow gold ring on it. When Flynn took it, she hung on and leaned in to murmur, “You’re definitely not what I was expecting.”
One of them should have been insulted. Nate had a feeling it was probably him. The storm had rolled in while they were eating, but it hadn’t broken yet. It brooded overhead in heavy black clots of cloud. A damp wind chilled the nape of Nate’s neck and his fingers.
They were waiting for Katie and Fiona, the latter of whom kept escaping back into the kitchens to try and cozen a sample of the surprise wedding cake.
“I’ll go wait in the car,” Sheila said. She gave Nate a tight fold of the lips that was almost a genuine smile. “Give you two a minute. Besides, I’m not driving in the back seat withherafter the amount of champagne she drank.”
Almost genuine.
Nate sighed and handed the keys over. With a last nod to Flynn, Sheila walked briskly across the parking lot as the wind tugged at her trouser legs.
“I gotta tell you.” Flynn hooked his arm around Nate’s shoulder and rubbed a rough cheek against his jaw. “Pretty sure she thinks I’m slumming it with you.”
“I’m not in her good books,” Nate admitted. He faked a smile and a wave when Sheila looked back at them. “Could be worse, though. She could be my mother-in-law.”
Flynn laughed and pushed himself upright, but he left his hand on Nate’s shoulder. “So, was this actually part of your twelve-point plan?” he asked. “Or did you just want backup at the table?”
“It might have been a bit of both,” Nate admitted. “Sorry. If we were really dating, I’d definitely make it up to you.”
Flynnhuh’dand grazed his thumb over Nate’s throat. “And since we’re not really dating?”
