Chapter Nine
Theo
Ishouldn’t have touched her. What the hell was I thinking?
Esther was so quiet during the drive that I was convinced she was going to explode by the time we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. Hell, she’d probably punch me straight in the throat the minute she stepped out of the truck. I couldn’t even blame her for it.
Instead, she slipped her hand into mine when I reached her side. I felt the faintest tremor in her fingers, then she lifted her face and summoned a brave smile.
“I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
Shock short-circuited my brain, so I just squeezed her hand and headed toward the front door of The Mermaid.
As we passed the signature golden statues on either side of the entrance, Esther let her free hand graze over one’s intricately carved fins.
A surge of need coursed through my veins, startling in its intensity, as I imagined her fingers trailing over my skin like that.
Shut it down, I told myself firmly. This wasn’t a real date.
Even though I’d already been to The Mermaid with Oliver since my return, the place blindsided me again with its cool, slightly hipster atmosphere.
While the hostess led us to a big booth in the back corner, I took in more of the details than I had last time.
Local art adorned the walls and the lighting was low without making the place seem sketchy, giving every wooden surface a warm gleam.
Our friends were already seated, leaving me and Esther to slide in at the end. Though I was going to let her have the outside seat in case she felt the need for a quick exit, she willingly positioned herself between myself and Oliver’s sister.
Unlike me, still pondering that bolt of lust, Esther had her game face on. She greeted everyone with a friendly smile, joked a little with Sofia about accepting the invitation, and then nudged her leg against mine beneath the table for reassurance.
On the other side of Sofia sat her husband, Chase, followed by a pair of women introduced to me as Melody and Theresa, who had apparently gone to college with Sofia and Esther, then Oliver and Julian. It was a small group, thankfully, and Esther didn’t appear outwardly uncomfortable.
Just when I started to think this might not be so bad after all, Oliver piped up with, “So, you two.”
I froze, startled into silence, but Esther snorted softly and elbowed me in the ribs.
“Us two,” I repeated finally, causing the rest of them to stifle their laughter.
Julian caught my eye, then hissed in Ollie’s ear, “Jimenez, zip it.”
With her boisterous brand of assistance, Sofia jumped in to turn the conversation to the upcoming tree lighting—Spruce Hill’s official kickoff to the holiday season.
When asked if I was attending, I mentioned helping Esther with the food truck and we were met with a chorus of “awws” from the entire table.
I glanced at Esther, who grimaced but winked at me, and I finally gathered the courage to drape my arm along the back of the booth behind her. To my surprise, she shifted slightly so that her side brushed against mine, like she’d simply been waiting for the invitation.
We managed to get through dinner without receiving any pointed invitations for Thanksgiving gatherings, though Sofia shot me a look when we were saying goodnight that I took as a warning we weren’t off the hook just yet.
Watching each of them embrace Esther, one after another, filled me with a soft sort of warmth.
Maybe it was seeing her surrounded by friends, maybe it was the connection of my past and my present, but either way, it made me intensely happy.
As I drove us home, Esther sighed contentedly. “That was surprisingly tolerable.”
“Admit it. You had at least a tiny bit of fun.”
“Maybe a little,” she agreed, rolling her head against the seatback to smile over at me.
“I’m glad you had a good time. I’m even more glad I didn’t have to kick Ollie’s ass for getting all up in our business.”
Esther laughed. “Well, my money’s definitely on you if it comes to a brawl.”
It was a silly, offhand sort of comment, but it felt like more.
She’d trusted me enough to enter this arrangement, ventured well out of her comfort zone tonight, and, if my speculations were correct, had lowered her guard at least a little bit throughout the evening.
I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that was my doing, but I could certainly appreciate it nonetheless.
By the time we pulled into the driveway at home, Esther had gone silent again, but it felt softer somehow.
She was no longer buzzing with nerves or taut with tension, just cloaked in quiet.
I was about to thank her for coming out with me and bid her goodnight when she made a little sound and swiveled toward me.
“Oh, dessert! I almost forgot. I have brownies and my favorite flavor of cupcakes, if you have room for dessert.”
Would this woman ever cease to surprise me?
“If there’s one thing you should know about me right now, Esther, it’s that I always save room for dessert.”
Instead of going home to my lonely couch and Toni’s judgment, I followed Esther back into the guest house. It felt a little like winning the lottery.
“I just need to change. Make yourself comfortable,” she called over her shoulder as she tossed the keys onto a table by the door.
My last trip inside to help carry out cupcakes had been brief, so I followed more slowly, taking in the changes that had been wrought over decades.
The guest house was once a woodworking shop housing the original homeowner’s handmade furniture business.
By the time my parents bought the property, the little outbuilding was in a state of disrepair.
They’d converted it into something of an office for my mother, who loved us desperately but often needed an escape from our rambunctious crew in order to get some work done.
A handful of other renovations had taken place since then, including the addition of a decent-sized kitchen, a storage loft, and a full bathroom.
The bedroom off the back had been completed during the final stage of redesign—I always thought my parents hoped one of their sons would choose to stay close to home for a while, but both of us left after graduation.
Alex, however, came back during every semester break and long weekend, while I had resolutely refused to return.
The place wasn’t large, but it felt homey and comfortable now. A variety of soft blankets lay draped over the loveseat and recliner in the small living room, colorful area rugs lined the wood floors, and artwork and a few knick-knacks broke up the studious nature of several overflowing bookshelves.
There wasn’t a single photograph anywhere to be seen, with the exception of a small framed image of my mother and Esther at her college graduation. I trailed a finger over the edge of the silver frame and wondered if it was a gift from my parents.
“Sorry, I don’t get a whole lot of company,” Esther said as she returned from the bedroom in a pair of loose pants and a blue sweatshirt. She grabbed two plates from the cupboard and set them on the small dining table.
I frowned. “Have you had any company here?”
“Does your mother count?” She glared at me before gesturing for me to sit.
“Definitely not. She’s family,” I said, nodding toward the photo. “I have one just like that back home from my high school graduation. Clearly, she considers you one of her own.”
Esther bit her lip before responding. “Then no, I haven’t had any company here.”
I nodded, unsurprised. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of, Esther. I wasn’t teasing you about it, just asking.”
“Are you always this earnest?”
The way she said it, like she was utterly baffled by my attitude, made me laugh. “Is that a bad thing? I’m a straightforward kind of guy. The whole foot in mouth thing seems to be a terrible side effect, but it’s never been quite this bad before.”
Esther narrowed her eyes. “So you just say whatever comes into your head.”
“Pretty much,” I said with a shrug. “Though I’ll admit it usually doesn’t sound quite as stupid as half of what I’ve said to you so far. I don’t know what it is about you, but I apparently have no filter when I’m around you.”
“I don’t—is that a compliment?”
“If I hadn’t already asked you for a do-over, I’d request one right now. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve been back in town for a week and I feel like I’ve been sucked back into middle school.”
“You don’t look like any middle schooler I’ve known,” Esther muttered under her breath, but my head snapped up.
“Was that a compliment?” I demanded.
She made a point of looking around the room. “Do you think your mother knew how this was going to play out and planted cameras here?”
At that, I laughed. “I like you, Esther. I’m glad you’re not ninety.”
“You and me, both,” she replied. “I really wanted to dislike you, you know.”
“Just to spite my mother?”
“No. Well, maybe a little. I’ve done a damned good job of sticking to myself for the last four years and you snuck right past my defenses.” She scowled at me, but there was still a hearty dose of humor sparkling in her eyes.
I flashed a wide grin at her, the kind my father always used to charm my mother whenever he messed up. “Well, I’m sorry my mother roped you into things, and I feel obligated to inform you that I’m almost positive she’s hoping to convince me to stay in town.”
“So I’m the lure?”
No turning back now. I lifted a hand to tick off each point on one of my fingers. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, clearly as scary-smart as my mother, tough as hell, more than a little bit mysterious. They couldn’t have orchestrated a better trap for me if they’d tried.”
Esther smiled at me, this time a bit sadly. “I appreciate your honesty, but having been trapped myself, I won’t be anyone else’s bait.”
“Esther, I didn’t mean…”
I trailed off, wishing I could rewind that moment into the compliment I’d intended it to be.
The invitation for dessert had felt like more progress than holding her hand as we walked into the restaurant; I still wasn’t sure if that concession had been borne of the need for reassurance or the desire to make our little act appear convincing.
Being welcomed into her inner sanctum seemed a more conscious choice, and now I was afraid I’d ruined everything.
“It’s fine,” she said quietly, rubbing her forehead with one knuckle before turning to fetch a plate of baked goods from the kitchen counter.
When she sat down across from me, she tucked one leg under her and gestured toward the desserts between us.
“Bad news for you. I’ll need you to try at least one of each. ”
I rubbed my hands together, rolled up my sleeves, and stretched my arms like I was preparing for a sporting event.
Her eyes looked almost topaz against the royal blue of her sweatshirt and they followed the line of my forearms just long enough to convince me she wasn’t as indifferent as she might seem.
“You’re the boss. Which of these beauties should I sample first? What kind of cupcakes are they?” I asked.
Esther waved her hand magnanimously. “Guest’s choice. These are Mississippi Mud. It’s a mocha cupcake with cookie chunks mixed in and coffee frosting with a fudge swirl.”
“Oh, Esther,” I said gravely, placing a brownie and a cupcake on my plate before peeling the paper wrapping from the latter. “Where have you been all my life?”
Though I expected her to laugh, she only leaned forward a little, her gaze intent on my face as I took a bite from the cupcake.
Even if I hadn’t been playing it up for her sake, I couldn’t have held back the moan of absolute bliss.
It was amazing—soft and moist, the frosting fluffy and light, the flavors perfectly complementary.
I was no expert on food allergies, but even the small sample I’d had of Esther’s other confections hadn’t prepared me for this.
“Well?” she demanded, scowling at my silence.
“I’ve never tasted anything this delicious in my entire life.”
She huffed like she didn’t believe me, so on the next bite, I closed my eyes and tipped my head back to savor it. By the time I finished the cupcake, I was ready to propose marriage again. I opened my eyes to find her watching me.
“You, Queen of Sweets, are an artist,” I said, letting appreciation color my tone.
Pleasure crept across her features, tugging at the lushness of her mouth and brightening her eyes. It was like watching a flower bloom. For the second time that day, I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her that it became a physical ache, but I managed to refrain this time.
As my mother had always drilled into us: interest didn’t equal invitation.
Clearing my throat, I picked up the brownie. “Right, moving on. These are the ones you were still testing?”
“Yes,” she replied, taking one off the plate in the middle of the table.
I watched, captivated, as she tore off a corner, popped it between her lips, and chewed thoughtfully. When she made an impatient gesture in my direction, I did the same. A long sigh of pleasure escaped me as soon as I swallowed it.
“These are amazing. They’re going to be a hit.”
“You think so?” she asked, breaking off another chunk. “They’re a little crumbly, but that was the payoff for reducing the oil.”
I scoffed and ate the remainder of my own brownie in two big bites. “Who cares? Besides, since the tree lighting and the Carolcade are both at night, no one is going to notice a few crumbs.”
“True. You’re an excellent sidekick, Long John.”
“We’re a good team.” I paused, studying her tranquil expression. “I think it went well tonight.”
She wrinkled her nose and said, “Yeah, it did, but I’m sure Sofia isn’t going to bite her tongue for long.”
“You don’t think she bought it?”
“I don’t think she’s going to believe we’re dating, but…”
“But?” Curious, I raised my brows and waited for her to continue. A faint wash of pink crept over her cheeks and I clenched my fist when her straight white teeth sank into the plump rose of her lower lip.
“But she’ll probably assume we’re sleeping together.”
The words seeped right through my skin, settling deep inside me in a way that was both intensely arousing and oddly satisfying.
My voice was hoarse when I asked, “How do you feel about that?”
She drew a slow breath, met my gaze straight on, and said, “I think it’s a rumor I can live with.”