Not if he had anything to say about it. But he didn’t, as it turned out, because Lauralie gestured to the empty chairs and said, “Of course we don’t mind. Have a seat.”
Goddammit. Downtown Montenido boasted at least a hundred dining options, and Delaney’s had never been at the top of Kate’s list. Bad luck couldn’t be blamed for bringing his sister and her notoriously uptight wedding planner—Miranda McQueen—to his table tonight. Aaron’s cryptic comment about dinner with the ice queen floated through his mind. Yeah, he’d been sacrificed like a lamb.
Manners dictated he seat the ladies and make introductions, so he rose and pulled out a chair for Miranda, and then Kate. As he dropped a kiss on her cheek, he muttered, “I hope Aaron’s having a nice evening.”
“Shame about his last-minute plans. He’ll be sorry he missed you.”
“Oh, he’ll be sorry.” Fucker. He rested a hand on Lauralie’s shoulder. “Meet my sister, Kate, and our family friend, Miranda.”
“The pleasure’s all ours,” Kate beamed. “You look—” She paused as a busboy swooped in with two additional place settings and waters. When he retreated, she continued, “You look so familiar to me. Are you local?”
“Native,” Lauralie confirmed, and took a sip of water.
“Really?” Miranda chimed in, frowning slightly. He could practically hear her flipping through the pages of the social register stored in her frontal lobe. The woman could trace her bloodline to Montenido’s founding fathers, and she’d married into equally vested families—twice. She was incredibly well connected, and she prided herself on knowing who was who. “What’s your last name?”
“Peterson,” Lauralie answered.
“Peterson…Peterson…any relation to Stu and Bitsy Peterson? I did their daughter’s wedding last summer. Pink fantasy, like a fairy tale. We transformed a team of white horses into pink unicorns to lead the carriage that whisked them away on their honeymoon—Montenido Magazine featured a picture on their cover.”
“Sounds…spectacular,” Lauralie responded, “but no, I’m not related to Stu and Bitsy.”
“Oh. Hmm.” Miranda’s Botox-impaired frown returned. “I thought I knew all the Petersons in Montenido.”
Kate glanced at the ceiling, and shook her head. “Only the ones paying for big, splashy weddings.”
Miranda preened a little at the comment, and then inspected the rim of her glass, before taking a careful sip.
Kate turned her attention to Lauralie. “How did you and Booker meet?”
Lauralie swirled the last of her wine around her glass, then swallowed and cocked a brow
at him. “He busted me.”
Miranda made a choking sound before erupting into a series of hacking coughs. Kate leaned across the table, all smiles and curiosity. “What for?”
“I didn’t bust you,” Booker interjected, before things went completely off the rails. “It was ten years ago, and she was out after curfew. I gave her a warning and a ride home.”
“Wow.” Kate propped her chin in her hand. “You got mercy out of my hard-ass brother. That’s impressive. What do you do nowadays?”
Lauralie’s small grin told him she enjoyed hearing his sister classify him as a hard-ass. “I own…” Her grin faded. “Scratch that, I owned Babycakes Bakery.”
Kate scooted closer to the table, oblivious to the implications of Lauralie’s use of the past tense. “My assistant raves about your place.” She tapped Miranda. “You know Babycakes. The cute little shop in Nido Plaza with the…”
“With the logo inspired by a mud flap.” Miranda’s gaze cut to Lauralie. “Yes. Now I know exactly who you are.”
The hint of extra frost in her voice wasn’t lost on Booker. Old rumors swirled in his memory like snow flurries—annoying and insubstantial debris about Miranda’s second divorce involving infidelity on her husband’s part. He had a sinking feeling Denise’s name might have been in the mix, but Lauralie’s impassive expression suggested she neither knew, nor particularly cared, about old rumors.
Apparently Miranda preferred to focus on current events as well, because she went on. “I understand your cute little shop met with misfortune yesterday.”
Kate looked from Miranda to Lauralie. “What happened?” But then her eyes clouded as awareness dawned. “Oh, no. The fire at Nido Plaza. I heard about it, but I didn’t realize… My God, I am so sorry.”
He took Lauralie’s hand, and laced her cold fingers through his.
She thanked Kate, and gave his hand the smallest of squeezes, before doing the thing guaranteed to divert attention from her. She asked about the wedding. Within moments, Miranda McQueen was holding court, passing judgment on themes, color schemes, and other matters destined to suck away every ounce of his testosterone. He concentrated on all the ways he’d kick Aaron’s ass next time he saw his future brother-in-law.
A waiter approached. Booker recognized him as a local, but couldn’t put a name to the face. Based on age, he figured Lauralie probably knew him. The way the man’s blue eyes scanned the table and stalled on her confirmed his guess. Booker got the distinct impression the rest of the room had just disappeared for blue eyes. He blushed to the roots of his dark hair, and mumbled, “Hi, Laurie.”
Aw, hell. Another one. He draped his arm along the back of her chair.