Ruby’s head bobbed up and down. “Tonight’s special. You want a menu?”
“Nope. Already made up my mind.”
The other woman lifted her arms in the air. “No one ever wants a menu.” She wore one of her infamous aprons, this one simply saying “Bombshell” across her ample chest.
“You know you’re late,” Ruby told her. “Your party’s already here. They were gettin’ worried about you.”
Ginger didn’t want to think of the ordeal she’d experienced this evening, which had made her tardy, though thoughts of Ryan remained front and center in her mind.
“I’ll find them,” Ginger said as she wandered off, not wanting to take more of Ruby’s time because the restaurant was hopping.
She wove her way through the packed dining room, greeting people as she passed their tables, including the Bains. She wondered if they knew their nephew had returned, suspecting not, since he likely would have had dinner plans with them this evening and wouldn’t have previously been at the diner across the street from her boutique. The latter being a small miracle for which she was eternally grateful.
Reaching the back of the room, she quickly scanned it and spotted her friends at a round table that sat six. She instantly regretted not having invited Ryan to join them, even if it was just for a drink. But with a quick glance over her shoulder at his aunt and uncle, she knew she was walking a fine line with them and didn’t need to add more tension to the precarious situation.
“Hey, there you are,” Liza said as she pulled out the chair beside her and Ginger sank into it. “We were just about to call out the cavalry. You didn’t answer your cell, and the phone at your shop had a busy signal for about fifteen minutes. Jack and George were ready to storm your store.”
With a dismissive wave of her hand—and what she hoped was a nonchalant look on her face—Ginger said, “I had some business to take care of.”
“What happened to your elbow?” Jess asked, concern in her eyes.
“Just clumsy. No worries.” To Jack Wade and George Mills, she said, “Sorry to keep you guys waiting. It must’ve been torture. Tonight’s special smells fantastic.”
“We ordered the second we walked through the door,” George said, “but told Ruby to wait to serve us until you arrived. Wine?”
“Oh hell, yes,” she said, in need of something to help take the edge off from the incident in her shop as well as the frenzy Ryan sparked inside her.
George poured her a glass and handed it over. After a sip, she confided, “So I have to tell you who’s back in town.”
She absolutely could not keep that part of her evening a secret. As everyone awaited her news, she wiggled excitedly in her seat. Despite the obvious pitfalls of being so insanely attracted to Ryan, she couldn’t stymie the sinfully delicious sensations he so easily evoked.
Jess and Jack had perked up, since they were Wilder natives and curiosity obviously got the best of them. Liza wouldn’t know about someone who’d left years ago, given she was a newcomer. But she looked interested nevertheless. George, however, had been in town for over a decade, so he’d likely recognize the name she was about to drop. Particularly because Ryan had been a favorite in the newspaper following all of his sporting triumphs.
“Who did you see?” Jess prompted.
“Only the second best football player to hit a Wilder gridiron. Ever,” Ginger said in an enthusiastic tone. “Jack being the first, of course.”
As Jack gloated and Liza patted his hand, George said, “Well, that’d have to be Ryan Bain.”
“Indeed,” Ginger confirmed.
Liza’s gaze flashed to Ginger and she stared at her with a ghastly expression on her pretty, fashionably made-up face. “Why on earth would you be excited over having another Bain in Wilder?”
“Because he’s not like the other Bains in Wilder. And,” Ginger said as she leaned in close so she could lower her voice, “he’s freakin’ hot!”
“Ooohh,” Jess gushed as she rubbed her hands together. “Is that lust in your eyes, young lady?”
Ginger fanned herself with a hand as she gave them a Cheshire Cat grin. “Let’s just say, I wouldn’t be opposed to him ringing my bell.”
The men chortled. Liza frowned. “Uh, I think the reverend, and most certainly his wife, would have something to say about that.”
Ginger’s grin vanished. “Yeah, I figured that too. But it wasn’t enough to stop me from accepting a date with him.”
“That’s wonderful,” Jess said as she reached over and squeezed Ginger’s forearm.
“Just be careful there, darlin’,” Jack warned. “Hell hath no fury and all that…”
Stealing a glance at the Bains’ table, Ginger scowled. “She can’t tell me what to sell or to keep my nightgowns off the sidewalk. But I’m sure she’ll have something to say about my date with her nephew.” Turning back to the group, she asked, “You don’t think he’ll let her talk him out of it, do you?”