Page 89 of Calling the Shots

“I assure you, you are not.”

“Are you ready, Mr. McIntire?” The hostess gazes up at me through her long, fake lashes.

I hate when people call me mister. Makes me feel a hundred years old.

“Yes.” My mother answers for me, the rest of the family appearing behind us.

“Right this way.”

The hostess leads us through the bar area into the main dining room. No less than five people stop me on the way, chatting and saying hello to me and my dad. By the time I make it to the table, everyone’s seated. My mother at one end with a spot for my father at the other. Tinsley’s next to my mother and Emma Kate’s beside her. There are two open spots left for Gracelyn and me. I hesitate for a moment, trying to decide where Gracelyn would rather sit—next to my mother or my father. My hand’s on the back of the chair next to my dad when my mom chimes in.

“Grace, dear. Have a seat next to me.” She pats the menu at the place setting beside her, and I swallow down my grimace.

Okay then.Decision made.

I pull out the chair and Gracelyn slides in, plucking the napkin from beneath the menu and spreading it over her lap.

A waiter appears and offers us water, then a sommelier stops by with the wine list.

“Yes, we’ll take a bottle.” My dad peruses the chunky folio of wines. “How about this one? The Cab from Sonoma?”

“Excellent choice, sir. I’ll bring it right out.” He scurries away and I chug my water, suddenly parched.

“I trust the guesthouse is acceptable.” My mother peers at Gracelyn, one of her brows arched.

Thankfully, she either doesn’t know I moved out there too or is brushing over it for the sake of peace. More than likely the former, but I’m not going to bring it up.

“Yes, thank you. The guesthouse is lovely.” Gracelyn smiles at my mom, but she’s already glancing down at the menu. Gracelyn ducks her head quickly, cheeks flushing.

Damn, this is fucking painful.

Mercifully, the wine materializes, and we all raise our glasses in a toast.

“To time with family—and friends who feel like family.” My dad nods first at Tinsley, then at Gracelyn, and my gut twists. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. Hopefully, Gracelyn didn’t notice the slight. She seems preoccupied with the menu.

“What’s good here?” she asks, setting her wineglass down.

“Everything,” Emma Kate says. Always so very helpful.

“I like the duck. Or the steak.” I point to both selections on the menu, and Gracelyn shoots me a grateful look.

“So, Gracelyn, what’s your family doing for the holidays?” Emma Kate swirls her wineglass around, the red liquid sloshing dangerously close to the edge.

“Um…my mom’s having Thanksgiving with her friend.” Gracelyn fiddles with the stack of silver bangles on her wrist.

“Oh. It’s only the two of you then?” Emma Kate forges on, digging for details like the nosy little sister she’s always been.

“Yes, just the two of us.” Grace shifts in her chair, leaning back a touch.

“No annoying brother then?” Emma Kate scowls across the table at me.

“No. I always wanted a sibling. But that never happened.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Emma Kate says, rolling her eyes at me. I know she’s teasing, but Gracelyn’s face falls. I quickly change the subject.

“Emma Kate, read any good books lately?”

She snorts, covering her mouth with her hand to catch any errant spray. “God, no. I haven’t read a book since college.”

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