Page 93 of Second Dance
We all chimed in enthusiastically that we’d love to try it. I stole a quick glance at Seraphina. She was not looking at Hunter but rather at her plate as if it had suddenly become more interesting. And a flush was working its way up her neck.
Hunter tugged the cork from the long neck of the bottle and asked the server to bring a new round of clean glasses. Soon, we were all tasting and giving our opinions to Hunter. The consensus? Delicious.
“Your sommelier friend must be very good,” Lila said. “Does he live here in town?”
“Just moved here after a bunch of years in Europe,” Hunter said. “But he grew up here, so he’s back.”
“Like Dorian,” Seraphina said under her breath, nudging Delphine with her elbow.
“Do you know Dorian?” Hunter asked. “He’s a friend of mine too.”
“I’ve been talking to him about a signing at the store,” Seraphina said, cheeks flushed, and still not looking directly at Hunter. “His mother was always very generous about hosting signings, and he’s been the same.”
“Oh, yeah, he told me about you. The romance author.” Hunter’s mouth twisted in what I could only describe as sardonic.
We all bristled.
“Don’t say it that way,” Esme said flatly. “You’ve no idea how hard it is to write romance.”
“And, like most men, underestimate the talent behind the books women actually enjoy reading,” Delphine said.
“Over eighty percent of books sold are romances,” Lila said. “Did you know that?”
Hunter laughed, putting his hands up in defense. “Whoa, ladies, I didn’t mean it that way. I was more reflecting on my own romantic life, of which there is none, after a humiliating heartbreak. Nothing to do with your writing, Ms. Sinclair. Actually Dorian was telling me how good you are at your craft. Which I appreciate more than most.”
We all softened at once.
“Why more than most?” Seraphina asked, finally looking at him.
“It’s a long story,” Hunter said, clearly not about to elaborate. “Now, I’m going to leave this bottle—on the house—as a peace offering. Don’t jump me later, okay?”
This made us all laugh.
“Sorry about my friends,” Seraphina said, staring back at her plate, tips of her ears pink. “They’re fiercely protective.”
“As they should be,” Hunter said. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
After he’d returned to his place behind the bar, I said quietly, “He’s sort of an enigma, right?”
“Yeah, what’s his story?” Lila asked.
“Maybe he’s running from his past,” Esme said. “Or starting fresh?”
“He’s handsome,” Lila said. “If you like the brooding, rustic type.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Seraphina said.
“You’re so full of it,” Delphine said. “You turn pink every time he talks to us.”
“I do not,” Seraphina said, sounding the same age as our kids. “He’s got that cowboy vibe. Which, you know, I like.”
“You’re all about the cowboys and country music,” Delphine said.
“You do look good in your cowgirl boots,” Lila said. “You should wear them next time we come in here. With those jean shorts you have. You’d rock that look. And I’ve no doubt the cowboy behind the bar would notice your ridiculously long legs.”
“Don’t be silly,” Seraphina said. “I don’t have time for a cowboy. I barely have time foryoufour.”
“Never say never,” I said. “Look at me. Love found me despite the odds. I wish it for each one of you.”
