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“Hobbies?” she repeated. “Who has time for hobbies?”
He chuckled and bobbed his head. “Tell me about it.”
“My shop and my daddy take all my time and energy,” she said. “And then Elvis came to stay with me, and now I’ve got this cowboy I’m sweet on that I have to squeeze into my life.” She was kidding, her tone clearly conveying that.
Will still looked at her with fire blazing in those teal eyes, serious as she’d ever seen him. “Is that a problem for you?”
“No, sir,” she said, sobering too.
He fiddled with the toothpick holding his short rib bite. “You’re sweet on me?”
“William,” she said. “I told you I liked you.”
“Liking someone is different,” he said.
“Is it?”
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re ready to move outside to the tables,” someone called. “Please come forward when I call your name and sit at the table you’re assigned.”
Will turned toward the man, and Gretchen’s heart quivered strangely in her chest as she moved to stand beside him. Being sweet on himwasthe same as liking him. She hadn’t revealed anything he didn’t already know.
She cut a glance at him, trying to get a read on how he felt. The man was like a stone, and he’d drawn shutters over his expression. He seemed rapt on the man up front calling out names, and that only made Gretchen’s legs shake a little more.
“Gretchen Bellows,” the man called, and she and Will moved forward.
“Table six, please,” he said, handing Will a single sheet of paper that looked like it was made from a specialty fiber. “This is our wine and spirits menu. Orders can be placed with your table host.” He smiled and looked down at his clipboard.
Will led Gretchen to table six, his step sure and his voice silent. She wasn’t sure how to break this ice she’d created between them. Or maybe he’d created it. Perhaps both of them. They sure had broken through a few awkward moments, and Gretchen took courage with that knowledge.
Will slowed and said, “That greenhouse is huge.”
“Oh, there’s Ingrid,” Gretchen said, her soul lighting up. Ingrid saw her in the next moment, and her smile filled her face. Gretchen giggled as she left Will and danced over to her friend. “Look at you,” she said, hugging the other woman. “You cut your hair and didn’t send me a picture.”
“Mm, I sure did.” Ingrid gripped her tightly. “That is one mighty fine looking cowboy.” She whispered the words, because Ingrid had tact and grace in droves.
“Yes, he is,” Gretchen agreed as she pulled back. She looked into her friend’s dark eyes. “Do you have a couple of seconds to meet him?”
Ingrid glanced toward the back porch, where another couple had just arrived. “I think so.” She turned back to someone. “Martin, I’ll be right back.”
Gretchen turned to face the same direction as her, and the two of them walked toward Will. “William,” she said. “This is my friend, Ingrid Olsen. She’s the chef-owner of The Cabin.” She smiled at Ingrid and then back at Will. She lifted an imaginary sledgehammer and got ready to swing it with all her might.
“Ingrid,” she said. “This is William Cooper, my boyfriend.”
His eyebrows went up, but the corners of his mouth did too. He shook Ingrid’s hand and said, “I can’t wait to eat your food. Everything has been delicious so far.”
“Thank you,” she said. “What did y’all have?” She glanced between Gretchen and Will.
“We had the beef and the salmon,” Gretchen said.
“Wonderful,” Ingrid said. “Wait until you see the beets tonight. They make me so happy.” She got called away in the next moment, and Gretchen watched her stride back toward the kitchen that sat off the back of the house.
Will indicated her chair, and Gretchen sat at table six. Above them, a canopy of mesh protected them from the insects, and only a few of the brightest stars had started to show in the near-darkness. Cement covered the ground and made the chairs and tables stable, and as Will sank into the chair opposite of her, Gretchen looked right into his eyes.
“You handled the boyfriend introduction well,” she said, wishing she had a glass of water to hide behind.
“Did I?”
“Only raised eyebrows.” She grinned at him and rested her chin in her hands. “No challenge to that?”
