Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“I do. But I can’t text and drive.”
“Never do that. Did you talk to Gianni?”
“Yes, and he said it’s not a problem. I can take Wednesday and Thursday night off. Ellie will cover for me.”
“Good. I’ll book the trip.”
“Yay!” My heart danced with excitement. “I’m heading to the market, and I was wondering if there was anything in particular you’d like for dinner,” I said, figuring I’d butter him up with his favorite dish before telling him about the party.
“Does it have to be vegetarian?”
“Nope. I can do anything.”
“Steak.”
I sighed. “Of course steak.”
“Hey, you said anything.”
“I did, and I will cook you a steak,” I said with a laugh. “It’s not that I don’t think they’re delicious—I know they are. I just don’t feel great after I eat meat, so I stick to other things. How’s your day going?”
“Fine, although I have a call scheduled later this afternoon with Wade that I’m not looking forward to, and not just because I hate the phone.”
“Is it about testifying?”
“Yes. He says he has more details about what questions I’ll have to answer. He’s in touch with committee members.”
“Well, more details are good, right? The better prepared you can be, the more confident you’ll feel. How was your run?” I asked, changing topics. “Did you see the Prancin’ Grannies?”
“Yes. They tried to accost me the minute I got out of my car. I had my earbuds in, so I pretended I didn’t hear them and just started running. They couldn’t keep up with me.”
I laughed. “Poor grannies. They just want your attention for a few minutes.”
“They’re vicious. You don’t know them. In fact, now that they think we’re engaged, they’re probably going to come after you. Better watch your back for those pink bedazzled shirts.”
I laughed as I pulled into a parking space in the grocery store lot. “I’ll be on my guard.”
TEN
FELICITY
I spent all afternoon in Hutton’s fabulous kitchen, creating some new recipes and photographing the results. At the market, I’d chosen the most brightly-colored, locally-grown foods I could find—apricots, raspberries, cherries, crisp greens, snap peas, broccoli, sweet cherries, radishes, honey. Next, I hit my favorite cheese shop and bakery, ducked into a reputable butcher shop for Hutton’s steak, and finally I hit the wine store, picking up a couple bottles each of red and white.
This is why you have no money, I told myself. It was true—my love for good food and wine and my dedication to using seasonal produce and small-batch products always trumped my desire to grow my savings. I couldn’t help it! But today, I was looking at it as an investment in my business, and in myself.
Hutton eventually wandered up from downstairs and opened his laptop at the kitchen table, where he sat and worked while I floated around in the kitchen, happier than I’d been in months. Even when I thought about that stupid Dearly Beloved review, it didn’t bother me nearly as much as it had before. Everyone faced setbacks, right? When you put yourself out there, whether it was with a plate of food at a restaurant or a recipe on the blog or a new business or a cookbook, you had to anticipate criticism, both deserved and undeserved. The important thing was to keep believing.
And every time I looked at Hutton, my belly swooshed and my mouth curled into a smile and my heart fluttered wildly. He was so handsome and serious sitting there in his light blue button-down, frowning at his screen and sometimes tugging on his hair, just like he used to when we were teenagers studying calculus. I could hardly wait to go to bed tonight, change that expression to something different, hear that deep voice in my ear again, feel his skin on mine. Who would have thought our sexual chemistry would be so good after so many years of being just friends?
Around six, Hutton closed his computer and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Want one?”
“No, thanks. But maybe you could open that bottle of Valpolicella for me?”
He opened the wine and poured me a glass. “Anything else I can do to help?”
“Nope. Just keep me company.” I set the plate of vegetarian charcuterie I’d assembled earlier on the island. “Have a beer and a snack and hear me out.”
He straddled a stool at the island and tipped up his beer. “Hear you out? That sounds ominous.”
“Not really.” I took a sip of my wine. “I just want to tell you about a little party.”
One of his brows arched. “What party?”
“The surprise party your mom is throwing for us on the patio at Abelard Vineyards the last Saturday in July.”
As soon as the word surprise came out of my mouth, he was shaking his head. “No fucking way.”
“The patio is really lovely,” I went on smoothly, sliding the onions from the cutting board into the pan.