Page 86 of Dining for Love

When Agatha comes out, she’s trailed by none other than Reid, who looks breathtaking in a simple pair of faded jeans and a heather gray T-shirt. The shirt is tight around his biceps, and I swear they flex as I look at them, as if Reid knows that’s where my attention goes and does it on purpose. When I met his eyes, he’s smiling mischievously, so maybehe did notice.

“Hi, Willa.” His voice is smooth, silky.

“Hi, Reid.”

Agatha sets the tray of tea and glasses on the table, then pours some for all of us. She tops the drinks with big rounds of lemon, and the whole effect is pretty as a picture.

“Cheers,” she says, easing into her seat as Reid joins me on the swing.

We clink our glasses together and take a sip, and I close my eyes at the taste, strong and tart with a hint of mint. It’s hard to top a breezy afternoon on a porch swing with a perfect glass of iced tea.

“I suppose you’re both wondering why I’ve called you here,” Agatha begins.

I wasn’t, actually, but I nod and smile alongside Reid.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

She waves him off. “Of course. I just figured it’s my duty as your landlord and neighbor to get the—what do the kids say?—the ‘hot goss’ from the two of you. Are you together or what?”

I nearly choke on the tea, and Reid slaps my back and looks at me quizzically. I narrow my gaze at him as I recover, then smile sweetly at him. “Reid?”

His eyes widen. “Me?” I smirk, and he turns to Agatha. “Well, um,” he begins. “I guess we’re, ah, seeing each other?” He looks at me helplessly.

Heck,Iwant to know what’s going on with us, too, so I wait for him to finish.

Clearing his throat, he continues, “And, well…that’s it. We’re seeing each other.”

Agatha adjusts her glasses to peer at him, then swings her gaze to me. “And are you moving to Miami with him, dear? Finally going to make good on your mother’s dreams for you and cook in a Michelin-starred restaurant? Lord knows it’s all she talks about.”

My heart squeezes. Mom’s been more and more vocal about itsince Reid got here, and it…hurts. I know she means well. I look at Agatha, my feet barely touching the ground, as Reid swings us on the porch swing. “Honestly, Agatha?”

She nods seriously, not even a hint of wanting the ‘hot goss.’ I think she simply cares.

I give her the truth. “No.”

Beside me, Reid stiffens almost imperceptibly.

I keep going. “Lucky is my home. It’s always been my home, and I’ve been, well,luckyenough to feel like this is my forever home since I can remember the idea even occurring to me. Not everyone feels like they belong in the town where they were born, but I do. I’m staying here. It might mean that I have to open my own place eventually, but for now, I’m happy exactly where I am.”

Agatha smacks her hands on her lap decidedly, as though she was waiting for me to make this very declaration, then turns her impressive attention to Reid. “Your turn, Reid.”

“Ma’am?” He nearly croaks the word.

“Are you going back to Miami or staying here?”

My heart sinks at the question, because I already know the answer. Reid, ever-observant man that he is, notices. He puts his warm palm on top of my free hand where it lies on the white slats of the swing. “I’m, ah, not yet sure. I have a lot going on?—”

Agatha quite literallypshawshim, which I have never seen in real life, and can confirm that it is as satisfying as I thought it might be.

Reid gawks. “Excuse me?”

She does it again. “You heard me. Pshaw. Pa-shaw.”

He blinks at her. “Are you—choking?”

I stifle a hysterical giggle, not sure if I should be laughing or coming to Reid’s rescue, but decide it’s far better to listen.

Agatha harrumphs. “You listen to me, Reid MacKinnon. Your uncle is laying in the hospital over there, shot by who knows what kind of terrible person, and those kinds of things should bring a person clarity.”

---