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The spacious inside of the limousine sat eighteen people, so with only four of them they all had plenty of room. Kimber dropped hints here and there about how Marvin would have been able to come along. Her complaints went on in vain as the stretch Hummer picked up the other children entering the pageant. A caravan of mothers drove behind them. Lexi swore everyone but the driver held up a wineglass in salute at the Hummer.
Folding her hands in her lap, Lexi cleared her throat. “This was sweet of you to offer to pick up all the kids.”
“Sweet of Nate,” Stephen clarified with a hint of a grimace. “He arranged everything.”
“He’s really not coming?”
“No, can you believe the bastard said he needed to head up to Atlanta this weekend?”
Lexi turned in her seat to feign a gasp. “No?”
“Yeah, I didn’t believe him, either.”
After containing her gasp, Lexi needed to figure out how to suppress the giggle mounting from the pit of her belly.
“Judging from the dimples popping out of your cheeks,” Stephen said, “you believe I’ve been Punk’d.”
“What do you know about Ashton Kutcher?”
“I’m raising a teenager, so if the television in the living room isn’t on Sprout, it’s on reruns from some music channel.”
Lexi wrinkled her nose. “You are so hip.”
“We will be on the road another two hours before we arrive at the Brutti Manor,” Stephen said, his voice and smile taunting her. “Are you ready to tell me about your mother?”
“Brutti Manor?” she repeated. Legend had it two people remotely attracted to each other fell in love after staying at one of that family’s residences. Lexi had always wanted to meet Gabrielle. But not at the expense of falling under the hotel’s charm.
Lexi dreamed of having her evening gowns sold in Gabrielle Owens Brutti’s store, Desideri. Back in the day when she needed money, Lexi would have killed for the opportunity to walk in a Desideri fashion show. Not only were the designs like those Lexi strived to achieve, the models were well paid and the money would have covered Lexi’s tuition for at least four semesters.
A coy smile spread across Stephen’s handsome face. “I’ve already made reservations at Owen’s.”
“Sounds delicious,” she hummed.
“You’ve heard of them?” he said of the Brutti family’s restaurant.
“Of course. I’ve actually been craving some of their guanciale carbonara.” She noted his raised brows. “You don’t like hog jowls?”
“Not particularly. My paternal grandparents made them when we visited Puerto Rico.” He nodded. “I am surprised a woman like yourself eats them.”
“A woman like me?” She took her turn raising her brow.
Stephen offered a smile of apology. “Never mind.”
“Whatever.” Lexi relaxed into her seat. “For starters, I am pure GRITS.”
“Girl Raised in the South.” He pointed with his long finger toward his temple, clearly proud of himself. “I remembered.”
“Yes, and this means I like my grits buttered, my tea sweet and my pork chops smothered, and on occasion, I will eat chitlins over rice, depending on who makes them, and the same goes for potato salad. You know you can’t eat just anybody’s.”
“What’s the other thing?” The dazzling smile sent a chill down her spine. Stephen Reyes would win best smile in a contest, hands down. She needed a distraction, but the girls were too busy watching the sisters on the car movie screen deal with a snowstorm.
“Hmm?”
“You said, ‘for starters.’ What else were you going to say?”
Lexi’s red lips formed into an O as she tried to muster her courage. “Did you say we’re staying at the Brutti Manor?”
“Is that okay? Would you like to stay someplace else? The Brutti is the best.”
