Page 68 of Hat Trick Holidate

chapter 29

EMMALINE

The walls areadorned with hanging photos of celebrities who have dined at this famous Atlanta spot. It’s clear that Sloan’s is a must visit for locals and tourists alike. Bryce spots us and, instead of beckoning us over, he excuses himself from the man he was talking to and heads toward our table.

He grins when he reaches us. “You found it.”

I playfully roll my eyes. “Well, there’s this thing called MAPS. It has this handy thing called GPS.”

“I know, but I was getting worried. It’s been twenty minutes.”

Holding up a red glossy bag, I say, “Jolie tugged me into a store.”

Bryce scoops up Jolie and leads us to the corner booth.

“Do you like Southern food?” he asks.

“I like all food. Almost. I won’t eat lobster or crab in the shells… too much work to get a little bite.”

A half laugh slips from his lips. “Sloan’s is famous for meatloaf, chicken and waffles, and fried potatoes.”

Glenda, who’s pushing sixty, brings menus, laying them on the rustic wood table. “Wynnie.” She pats his back. “Who are these lovely ladies?”

“Good to see ya. My daughter Jolie.” He wraps his arm around her. “And this is my… friend Emmaline.”

I can’t look at her because my gaze is permanently on “Wynnie” He didn’t call me his nanny. He also didn’t call me the woman he’s sleeping with, despite all our efforts to set boundaries, our attraction is too strong, and it seems he’s falling just as fast as me.

“Well, aren’t you the spitting image of your dad. Except a lot prettier,” Glenda says. “Chicken and waffles, fried potatoes and three waters, lemons?”

Bryce tilts his head and asks, “Is that okay?”

“Sure, I’m up for a little adventure.”

If Bryce Wynward is involved, count me in.

Glenda winks at Bryce as she walks off.

“What was the purpose of her bringing menus?”

“I think it gives her something to do until it gets busier. So, what’s in the bag?”

I look at Jolie, “Show him.” I hand her the bag.

She eagerly reaches her hand in the bag and pulls out an ornament. Jolie’s eyes brighten, and her smile widens as she hands it to Bryce. He hangs the ceramic ornament of two kids, a boy and a girl from his finger. Bryce asks, “Is this you and Cannon?”

She nods. Her smile grows as he hugs her.

“He’s going to love it. That’s a very thoughtful gift,” Bryce says, his voice filled with fatherlypride. “Do you want to give it to him at Thanksgiving so he can put it on his tree?”

“Tree.”

Bryce is stunned that she is speaking and after a few moments, a happy realization washes over him.

“Do we have a tree? I mean, do you have a tree?” I ask, feeling a bit embarrassed for assuming.

He shakes his head with a smile. “Nope, never had a reason to get one before.”

“You do now,” I say, referring to Jolie, but I’d love to be included in their Christmas activities. Fearing Bryce hasn’t had a proper Christmas since he was a teenager, I want to give him one. Allow him to get lost in the lights, the festivities, and the love so I blurt out, “Let’s go get a tree this weekend. Oh, we can’t. You have a game Saturday.”

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