She touches her lips, and I chuckle.
“You’re welcome.”
She faces the table and then practically jumps into my lap.
“I can see him from where I’m sitting. We need to move to the other side.”
“Why don’t we just tell him we came here for dinner because you rearranged my kitchen—which, by the way, even though I have no idea where to find anything, it looks amazing. You should be a professional organizer—and I didn’t have the patience to find everything to cook a meal. It’s the truth.”
We lock gazes, and for a moment I think she’s going to agree.
“Not tonight. Please, Beck.”
Something in her voice tugs at my heart, so I nod.
“How do we get to the other side?”
“Crawl under the table,” she answers, as if it’s the only option.
Our food shows up at that moment.
“Can you box this up for us?” I ask. The waiter nods and then comes right back to the table with boxes and the check.
“Are we sneaking out?” Calla asks.
“Beats crawling on the floor,” I say, putting cash in the ticket book. “What’s he doing now?”
“Good point.” She peeks around the booth. “He’s turned around talking to the table behind him.”
“Good. Go.”
We dash out, climbing into my SUV. I’m just about to back out when Calla’s hand latches onto my wrist.
“Look,” she gasps and points out the front window. “That’s Greer.”
“Popular place tonight.”
“Is she meeting my brother?” Calla’s face lights up.
“No clue.”
“Don’t you two talk?” she asks.
“Not too much since I married his sister and can’t talk to him about it.”
“Touché. Let’s go see.”
“See what?” I ask with a smile.
Her mood is playful, and I’m here for it.
“If she’s meeting Simon.”
“Like a spy?”
“Just like it. You need inspiration for a book, right? A little sneaking around and spying might be just what you need.”
It’s not typically what I write, but she might be onto something.
