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Chapter Thirty-Six
Trish
Andrew nearly flippedhis chair over when he turned around.
Incredulous eyes met mine.
My entire body burned with excitement. I’d handled our situation terribly, but I wouldn’t run. Not like I had when I’d seen him earlier.
“I do like tomatoes.” I nodded at Baker. “I love those that Renee grew on the rooftop garden. I think they were heirloom cherry tomatoes. Or baby heirlooms. Something like that.” I clamped my mouth shut when I realized I was rambling.
“I love those too,” Holt chimed in, and I could have kissed him. Well, not really. But I appreciated his help. “The ones that are a really deep red shade are my favorite. They look pretty in a bowl on the table.”
Everyone, including his father and Mrs. Quinn, who were on the opposite side of him, stopped talking and stared at him.
“What? They are.” He shoved a bite of salad in his mouth while we looked at him in surprise.
“When have you ever put ‘pretty’ tomatoes in a bowl on a table?” Marlow asked, finally breaking the silence.
“When they ripened in my garden.” He took a swig of wine and glanced around at everyone like we were the odd ones.
I didn’t know Holt well, but he fixed Delores without so much as looking at a manual. I couldn’t picture him with a garden and accessorizing his home with what he grew.
“I thought you worked on cars,” Baker said, voicing my thoughts.
“That mean I can’t grow a garden?” He sounded a little miffed.
“Kinda.” She shrugged and dove for her wine.
“If you grow anything while you’re here, I’d love to use it on the truck.” I blushed. “I guess it’s a little late in the season for that, huh?”
“There are winter vegetables,” Holt said kindly, almost energetically. “I’d love to find a place where there was a rooftop for a garden. And barbecues.”
“If you’ve got a spare couple of million, just pick one out,” Marlow said with a shrug.
“What’s this about a rooftop garden?” Vivian rested a hand on the back of my chair. “Are you talking about the one at Paths?”
“Nope. I’d like to find an apartment that has one,” Holt said.
“I know the perfect one. Probably could work out a good deal,” she said with a smirk. “I know the man who owns the building.”
“Are you talking about me?” Daniel approached and slipped an arm around his wife’s waist.
“Were your ears burning?”
“Always.”
“Holt’s looking for a place with a rooftop deck so he can have a garden,” she explained.
Daniel nodded in understanding. “Call me next week. We’ll talk.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Holt seemed a little dazed.
“This mean you’re staying in New York?” Mr. Dixon feigned nonchalance, but he couldn’t mask the hope in his voice.
“Maybe.”
“Aren’t you looking for somewhere to live, Baker?” Vivian asked, her eyes widening with not so much innocence.
