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“Bon appetite,” he says, scooping up a forkful and turning me to face him. He slides a bite of eggs into my mouth and kisses my lips as I chew.
“How are these so good?” I ask once I swallow.
“A tablespoon of butter per egg. The French way.”
My eyes go wide. “Six tablespoons of butter? That’s more butter than I eat in a week.”
He takes a bite and chews, nodding. “Worth it, right?”
“Totally worth it,” I agree, leaning my head against his chest. “And I’m not just talking about the eggs.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Jax
“You’re like a Doberman with a chew toy when you get an idea stuck in your head.” Beatrix rolls her eyes, and it occurs to me I ought to apologize to Ruby for accusing her of teaching that to Fiona. Turns out nearly every one of the women I know could have taught it to her.
Trix turns her back on me and goes upstairs to her office without another word, leaving me at the hostess stand where she was clipping today’s menus onto rectangular boards made from wine crates.
With no choice but to wait for her, I sit on one of the worn velvet couches that flank the restaurant’s entrance and serve as a cocktail area when tables aren’t ready. Taking in the rough-hewn beams that make the place look like it could easily be a Fourteenth Century apartment in France, I wonder what Ruby thought when she first saw it.
My untrained eye sees a rustic farmhouse dressed up with white linen. It’s supposed to give off the vibe of being homey but high-end.
To my sister’s credit, she did a first-rate job of designing the space. By far the most artistic of all of us, she really ought to be working in a creative field like design or graphics. And like all of us, whatever dreams she may have had to paint in an atelier were subsumed by the family business.
The restaurant is one of the most profitable arms of our property, so Trix is in the planning stages of opening a smaller bistro and market that will create custom picnic baskets for wine tasters to buy and take with them for the day.
“Okay, I’m back.” Holding a worn leather binder in her hands, Trix bounds down the wide staircase. “I’m debating redoing the upstairs bathrooms with wallpaper. Can I show you?” At least this part of the restaurant business allows her to be a little creative.
“Sure, if you think I know anything about wallpaper. I don’t spend a lot of time looking at restroom walls.”
She flips open the binder to show me page after page of wallpaper samples, most of which have large leaves on them. Different colored leaves, different species of leaves, but all leaves. I shrug.
“Doesn’t matter. I just want an opinion.”
Trix flips through the pages again as though I might react differently this time around. I shake my head and throw up my hands. “They all have leaves. Therefore, they all seem great.”
Shaking her head, she closes the book.
“So, can we do it?” I ask, antsy to get back to my office and finish my work. I have a surprise planned for Ruby tonight, dinner at the restaurant, provided my sister cooperates. She’s a stickler about reservations, and the place is always full. Even family members need to book tables—it’s a rule.
I can see Trix’s brow crease. Her fingers tap on the leather binder, and I know I have to weigh in on bathroom leaves if I have any prayer of getting her to focus on what I need.
“The purple and red leaves seem nice. I think they’re best.”
She shakes her head. “No. Not those. Why do I even bother asking you?”
“You’ve got me.” I shift from one foot to the other, knowing if I push my sister, she’ll find some other inane task for me to do before she arranges what I need.
“Calm down, little brother. We’re good to go tonight. But only because I really like Ruby, and I love how she’s making you take yourself less seriously. PJ is still all about keeping up appearances, but I’ll talk to her. I’m Team Ruby. So get to work on your own end of things.” I must look confused because she laughs and points me out the door. “Figure out how you’re going to surprise her, what you’re going to do to make it romantic.”
Now I really am confused because I thought that dinner at a great restaurant where she’s never eaten qualifies as romantic. “Um, such as?”
“I dunno. Tell her you have something else planned to throw her off, show up when she thinks she has to work late tonight, and whisk her away. Plan something even I haven’t thought of. Sheesh, dude, you need some moves.”
Maybe she’s right. In the time since Annabelle left, I’ve pretty much given up on romance, but Ruby deserves my A-game.
I need some moves.
