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“Nice midweek crowd,” Nell observed.
“We’d have more outside if we didn’t have the summer shower.”
“Speaking of outside, I need to talk to you—tomorrow’s fine—about a last-minute booking for the patio. Surprise birthday party, twenty-six guests. They just decided they want to book the patio, next Thursday night, between seven and eleven.”
“We’ll make it work.”
“We’ll talk details tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Haven’t seen you on the new ropes course,” Liam commented.
“I’ll get there in, oh, fifteen, twenty years.”
“You’ve got to try it. I’ll—ha!—show you the ropes. Have a good one.”
“You, too.”
When Miles walked out with them without comment, she simply raised her eyebrows and kept working.
He came back two minutes later.
“Another Cab?”
“No. I have the monthly family meeting on Sunday.”
“Okay.”
“So why don’t you come home with me Friday night?”
She mopped the bar. “It happens my schedule’s open.”
“Good. I have something I have to handle now, so I’ll see you then.”
“Enjoy your evening,” she said, very pleasant and professional.
And smiled to herself while she filled another order.
She helped with the yard work on Saturday—and proved she knew how to handle a garden. He liked the company more than he’d expected to.
When he had to go in to deal with some work-related calls and emails, she stayed outside with the dog.
He came out to find an old garden tub on the table holding flowers, and watched Morgan wing the tennis ball across the yard.
To his shock, Howl not only raced gleefully after it, but raced gleefully back to her with the ball clamped in his teeth.
“What the fuck!”
She spun around, the ball back in her hand. “Sorry. I saw the ball when I got the tub, and thought it was for Howl to chase.”
“He ran after it.”
“Well, yeah. He’s a dog.”
“He never does that. Give it.”
She dropped the drool-laced ball in his hand. Miles tossed it; Howl sat and stared up at him.
