Page 12 of Hats off to Love

Unbelievable. Who does this guy think he is?

“How did you know we were here?” Molly asks, ignoring the death glare I’m sending his way and picking up the menu she placed next to her in the booth after we gave our order. I allotted myself thirty minutes to be away from the shop, and now my nice, relaxing time is not only disrupted but ruined.

“I have my ways,” he states as he flips the menu open.

I let out an unflattering snort, and he turns to look at me and flatly says, “To find both of you, actually.”

What the what?

“This is one of my favorite places, so I thought I’d join you,” he says, as if being here casually lunching with us is an occasional occurrence.

And it’s official: I can never come here again.

I also need to destroy my phone, seeing as how he’s somehow hacked into it and invaded my privacy.

About this time, the waitress sees him and scurries over to take his drink order. Like the boring person he is, he orders water. Meanwhile, I pick up my Thai iced tea, which is next to my Diet Coke, and take a sip.

“How’s work going?” Molly asks him.

“Same as always.” He lets out a sigh. “Contracts, disputes, and fraud claims,” he says, as if those things are the most mundane in existence.

“Better you than me.” She grins at him just like a younger sibling who has not even an ounce of the responsibilities he has.

Stokes never questioned taking over the farm. Since the day he was born, his father, the one I never had a chance to meet, talked to him about the ins and outs of running the operation that would one day be his. At fifteen, feeling overwhelmed by his dad’s sudden death, Stokes buckled down on his destined path. He got an accounting degree to understand the money side of the farm and then went on to law school to understand the business side of dealing with thoroughbred horses. Does he need to work at this law firm? No. He could already be at the farm, but him making these commitments shows the thoroughbred world he’s serious about his role for when it’s time for him to step in.

He gives her the barest hint of a smile, and I wonder why I’m even here, trapped against the wall.

Molly flips her gaze my way, her expression turning to one of hopefulness. It better not be hopeful about her brother and me, because not in this lifetime will that ever happen.

“Well, I actually asked Rosie to meet me today, because I have something I want to show her.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out her laptop. After a few seconds of turning it on and connecting to the restaurant’s Wi-Fi, she glances up, looks at me sheepishly, and then turns it around to face me—well, to face us, as he is right here all up in my personal space.

And I hate it.

I hate it because he’s the one person in this world I can’t relax around. I feel like I always have to be on guard, because I never know what type of mood he’s going to be in or what’s going to come out of his mouth. Both are unpredictable, until they aren’t.

“We haven’t talked about this,” Molly says, “but I got to thinking after the last Sunday dinner, and this is something you do and are brilliant at, so I decided to add a new page to your website. When we first started, you said I had full control of creative liberties, and I just think this is one more thing to set you apart from the others.”

There in front of us is the Rosie May website, a website I absolutely love and can’t believe is mine. It is so pretty with how she designed it using the store colors, the brand name, fonts, and photos. All the images have a filter over them so they are cohesive, bright, and beautiful.

Stokes shifts his big body next to me to get a better look. He moves one arm to stretch along the top of the booth behind me, and his leg brushes up against mine.

Irritation crackles down my spine.

He flusters me, and I’m certain he knows it.

“I added a page for couture designs. You have the five you created in New York, plus my mother’s dress for the upcoming championship series two party, and now with Avery Layne, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be advertising these as well. After her debut, you could price your designs higher and do really well. This could be another source of income during the off season.”

Molly kept the home page simple. She wanted all categories to be present on one screen so customers don’t have to scroll down to find what they’re looking for: hats, fascinators, weddings, events, couture, custom orders, about, and in the news. I click on the large word couture on the home page, and it jumps to a new page.

Molly’s phone rings, she picks it up, and her face lights up. It has to be the guy—I didn’t even have a chance to ask her his name.

“I have to take this, but I’ll be right back,” she tells us as she scoots out of the booth and heads outside to stand under the awning.

Silence descends over the table, and I pretend Stokes isn’t even here as I study the layout, images, and text she added. It looks so good, and sometimes when I look at things like this, I feel like it’s for someone else’s business and not mine.

“I like it,” Stokes says.

I say nothing in return but realize the heat from his nearness is smothering me, as well as his peppermint breath.