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* * *
Later, they sat on the balcony in Jenna’s room and sipped champagne while catching up.
Rafe had provided plenty of status reports on Sampogna’s, but tonight he said, “It’s been almost a month since the reopening, Jen, and we’ve still got a full house every night.”
“How’s the lunch service?”
“The walk-ins have been astronomical. We have at least a fifteen-minute wait for those who don’t have reservations. They don’t seem to mind. They just belly up to the bar or sit in front of the fire or out in the courtyard. In fact, some forgo a table in the main dining room and select the tapas menu wherever they end up. The place is packed and the staff is staying on top of everything. It’s like the old days, only…contemporary.” He winked at her.
“I’m so glad,” Jenna told him.
Rafe asked her about her day, and she said, “You know, I love what I do. But it’s not going to be my whole life, Rafe. Not anymore.” She shifted from her chair to his, settling in his lap. “And here you are, in Texas with me. Let’s keep taking advantage of that. No need for shop-talk on my end. Let’s…plan a vacation. Even if it’s just a mini-getaway, like Sonoma was.”
“You won’t hear any arguments from me. However…” He whisked away strands of hair from her cheek that had blown in the slight breeze. “I do have an invitation to extend. Thanksgiving with the Sampognas in two weeks.”
Her brow crooked. “All of the Sampognas—et al.?”
“Et al.”
“Hmm. That’s a hell of a lot people, Rafe.”
“You did just fine with them at Marco’s party.”
“True… They even seemed to grasp that I needed a little less personal-space invasion.”
Rafe nodded. “Could be because you asserted from the moment we walked in that you wanted me to have the chance to survey the new dining room without being bombarded by everyone. You did it very diplomatically. If you just explain yourself a bit more, Jen, not be afraid to speak up about how overpowering they can all be, I know they’ll respect your space.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings,” she quickly reiterated.
“You won’t. Jen, they all love you. You’re a part of the family whether we’re together or not. You have to understand that.”
She mulled this over, surprisingly not feeling a bout of hyperventilation coming on.
“A real Thanksgiving feast?” she ventured. “With an actual turkey?”
“Five or six actual turkeys, but yeah.”
“Carved at a fully decorated, festive table, while everyone excitedly watches?” So traditional. But…heartwarming.
“Well, it’s just a turkey, but I suppose there’s some excitement,” Rafe jested. “If for no other reason than we’re all starving.”
She laughed. “I’m used to turkey sandwiches on Thanksgiving. I’ve always envied those scenes in movies where the man of the house sharpens his knife and then carves neatly into the bird while everyone waits with bated breath.”
“That’s sorta what happens, I guess.”
“And the mashed potatoes and gravy get passed down the long line of people.”
“And the rolls. Sure.” He grinned at her.
Jenna’s chest pulled tight. “I know it seems blasé to you. But I’ve never experienced an honest-to-God Thanksgiving dinner. I’d love it, Rafe.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I should forewarn you it might not necessarily be the tradition you’ve imagined. There’s also eggplant parmesan, pizza rustica, manicotti, spicy roasted red peppers, et cetera.”
“I’m all about the et cetera.” Her mouth watered. “And you know my motto—the spicier, the better.”
“Always did love that about you.”
She kissed him. Then said, “I’ll be taking you up on this offer.”
