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Remorse flickered over Sloane’s face while Gavin was certain that confusion covered his. The petite blonde snuffed out both with her all-American smile.
“Oh, honey, please. You’ve been a little busy tonight, don’t you think? Plus, it’s my job to annoy the girls and go around introducing myself to their friends’ parents.” She swung her attention to Gavin and extended a slender hand. “Jeannie Carter. I’m Sadie and Caitlin’s mom.”
Realization trickled in as he followed her gaze to the spot where Bree stood with the two blond girls, along with a grateful rush. At least he wasn’t the only person who wondered about other kids’ parents. “Gavin Carmichael.”
“Nice to meet you, Gavin.” Jeannie flashed her pearly whites again, making her look more like a former cheerleader than the mother of two preteen daughters. “Though I hate to admit, I’m not without ulterior motive.”
“That sounds kind of ominous,” Sloane said, lifting a glossy brow.
The back of Gavin’s neck prickled. “Is everything okay?” He turned to scan the restaurant again for Bree, but Jeannie shook her head, her sleek ponytail swaying emphatically.
“Oh, nothing’s wrong. I just promised Sadie and Caitlin that I’d take them to the Main Street diner tonight. Apparently, it’stheplace for middle schoolers to hang out. Now that dessert is over, they’re raring to go. We thought we’d ask Bree to come along.”
Well. It looked like he and Bree were even in the putting-each-other-on-the-spot department.
“I’d hate to put you out,” he said, in an effort to ease into a polite decline. After all, letting Bree roam Main Street on a Saturday night wasn’t high up on the list of things he felt comfortable with. Even if Main Street was less than six blocks long.
“Are you kidding? There’s plenty of room in our car. And, as stodgy as I am, I only let them stay an hour or so. One milkshake and a handful of songs on the jukebox are about all this lady can handle anymore,” Jeannie said with a genuine laugh. “I can even drop her back home when we’re done, if that’s easier for you.”
Gavin shot a quick glance across the dining room, zeroing in on the spot where he’d last seen Bree. She hadn’t budged, and neither had her smile. She wiggled her fingers at one of Jeannie’s daughters, taking one of the AirPods in the girl’s hand and popping it into her ear. They leaned in, joining their heads together at the free ear, and started bobbing in perfect unison.
Something Gavin had no name for turned over in his chest.
“Why don’t you have her give me a call when you’re ready to leave? I’ll swing by the diner and pick her up on my way home.”
They spent a few minutes exchanging cell phone numbers, and although Bree’s cheeks flushed a shade of pink when he gave her some money and reminded her to call him for a ride home, the frown that had etched her face all evening didn’t make a single appearance as they parted ways.
“So, it looks like you’ve got some time to kill,” Sloane ventured as soon as they were alone at the table.
“Guess it’s a good thing I have a date.” He tipped his glass of water at her in a grateful gesture, and she tilted her flute toward him in return.
The fluid lilt of her wrist made the bubbles dance like lazy sparks against the crystal. “So the wine thing, I take it that’s more pleasure than business.”
A safe topic if ever there was one. He could talk wine all day without getting bored, and it would keep his emotional family life firmly in the shadows.
Gavin nodded. “Mostly, although I’ve created the wine lists for almost every restaurant I’ve managed.”
“I bet the chefs love that.” Sarcasm rang clearly through Sloane’s reply, reminding him that while she wasn’t immersed in the restaurant world firsthand, she knew a thing or two about how it worked. Most head chefs had egos the size of ocean liners, and he’d tangled with more than a few at the idea of taking their restaurants’ wine lists into his hands.
“Some are more receptive than others. But pairing the right wine with a dish can take the whole experience from good to great. And in the end, they all want to be great.” He broke off with a shrug. “We usually start on the same page, or at least in the same ballpark. It doesn’t take much convincing once I put everything together, since good chefs have excellent palates and can taste all the nuances the wine adds.”
“Yeah, Carly can wax poetic about the ‘toothsome complexity’ of plain old apple pie.” She cradled her champagne flute between her pinky and ring finger to crook air quotes around the phrase. “All the fancy terminology is enough to blow a civilian’s mind. I mean, it’spie,for God’s sake.”
Sloane crinkled her nose, although not with disdain, and Gavin’s sudden good mood prompted him to take the thread and pull.
He faked a serious expression. “Actually, you might be onto something there with deconstructing one of America’s most revered desserts. Apple pie is full of different flavor profiles, not to mention the varying textures in the crust versus the filling. If you consider the—”
“Oh, my God, you’re worse than a chef! I love dessert as much as the next girl, but come on. You don’t deconstruct pie, you eat it!” she cried, swatting at him with her free hand. The contact of her fingers, even over the wool of his suit jacket, sent a snap of heat up his arm, leaving a definite trail of want behind it.
It made his next words taste even more delicious as he cracked a smile, lifted his brows and said, “Sloane, I’m kidding.”
Her eyes, nearly navy blue in the ambient light of La Dolce Vita’s dining room, went wide. “Wait…what?”
The look on her face, so caught up in confusion, was priceless, and he started to laugh. “I’m kidding. You know, giving you a hard time?”
Whatever impulse had dared him to turn the tables and tease her for a change had been right on the money. With her Cupid’s bow mouth parted in surprise, she was damn near irresistible, and the sheer pleasure of catching her off guard drew out his well-meaning chuckle.
“You’re kidding. As in, making light of things, ha-ha, very funny, kidding?” Sloane looped her arms over the daring neckline of her dress, but there was no hiding the smile brewing on her lips like rich, warm French roast.
