AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She bit down on her lower lip. “Then it’s a good thing I have a little present underneath for you.”
I raised my brows. “A present?”
Morgan nodded as the doorbell rang. That would be Blayze and Georgiana. Damn them for being on time.
Tossing a grin over her shoulder as she walked toward the door, she said, “You don’t see any panty lines for a reason.”
It took me half a second to realize what she meant, then I had to reach for the counter to hold myself up.
Morgan looked through the peephole before opening the door. “Georgiana, you look stunning! You’re wearing one of my dresses!” she exclaimed.
Georgiana spun around in a light blue dress that reminded me of an old-fashioned design. Maybe from the 1940s or 1950s. It looked amazing on her.
“What’s the matter with you?” Blayze asked, walking up to me. “You hot or something? Your face is all flushed.”
Morgan looked like she was trying not to laugh as she turned her attention back to Georgiana. “Is it comfortable?”
Georgiana nodded.
Clearing my throat, I forced a casual smile for Blayze. If he knew some of the thoughts I currently had running through my head about his sister, he’d murder me. “It’s a bit hot in here. You guys ready to head over to the restaurant?”
Blayze gave me an assessing look before he finally turned to his sister. “You look beautiful, Morgan. Your design as well?”
She beamed with happiness, and I had to put a hand over my heart to rub at the sudden ache I felt. I was so damn proud of her, and I knew she and Georgiana were going to do great things with the store, as well as with Morgan’s designs.
“Yep! It’s the very first dress I ever designed, in fact, with some alterations suggested by your future wife.”
Blayze grinned. “My two talented girls. I couldn’t be more proud.”
“Let me grab my handbag. Be right back!” Morgan said and dashed into her room.
“Don’t hurt yourself too bad staring at my sister like that, Marshall.”
“Blayze,” Georgiana warned as she wrapped her arm around his.
I brought my hands up. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”
Georgiana let out a bubble of laughter while Blayze scoffed, “Please. It’s written all over your face.”
“Stop it,” Georgiana demanded as she pulled Blayze toward the door. “Your sister is stunning, and you can’t blame Ryan for thinking so, either.”
Blayze huffed. “If that’s what you think he’s thinking, you’re naïve, Georgie.”
Laughing again, she kissed Blayze on the cheek. “It’s Ryan, remember?”
When Morgan came out of her room, she was holding a sweater and her purse. “Did you bring a sweater, Georgiana? It’s going to get chilly tonight.”
“I did,” Georgiana replied. “It’s in the truck.”
I waited for everyone to step outside before I set the alarm. I took one quick look around the apartment and then shut the door, locking it behind me. I took another quick look around the courtyard below…and attempted to push away the sudden strange feeling I had, pricking at the back of my neck.
Chapter Eleven
MORGAN
The moment we walked into Le Vacher, Georgiana and I gasped. It was everything I expected it to be, with a very industrial, French vibe. Exposed white bricks and planked walls gave it a warm feeling, and I was immediately drawn to the entire wall of windows that looked out on what was sure to be a beautiful view of the sunset over the mountains in an hour or so. White marble tables were sprinkled throughout the restaurant, with a long bar in the middle. The kitchen was on the right side of the bar and open so we could see into part of it. At the back of the restaurant was a wide staircase that led to a space for private events.
I glanced toward the kitchen and saw a handful of people moving about. Two men—one who looked to be in his early forties, and the other in his mid- to late-twenties—moved together with synchronized ease. Both men had brown hair while the older gentleman sported a sprinkle of gray.
“I take it the younger one is Bradford,” I said as the hostess led us to a table in the corner. It was a cozy, very romantic spot for lovers on a date.
“That’s him,” Blayze answered.
Ryan held my hand as we walked, and I couldn’t ignore the way my stomach flipped at the gesture. I wasn’t sure which I liked better, when he put his hand on my lower back, or when he held my hand. I loved them both, if I was being honest.
“Can I start you off with water or anything from the bar?” the hostess asked.
“I’ll have an old fashioned, please,” Georgiana requested.
The hostess looked at me. From what I’d read on the restaurant’s website, I knew they had locally brewed beer, and I also knew it was Ryan’s. His father had encouraged him to build a small structure on the ranch that housed everything he needed to make his beer, and Le Vacher was the only restaurant in town that carried it—so far. “I’ll have the local IPA, please.”
