“This menu is enormous,” she said. “How can they possibly do everything well?”
“It’s a diner, Duchess. Just pick something. Sorry it’s not like your place, with its tiny tables, and miniature chairs, and the coffee costs four bucks. Let me guess, the menu has things like arugula and sunchokes and quinoa?”
Violet ignored the question, because her go-to order at Elliott’s did just happen to involve arugula and quinoa.
He took a sip of the coffee, then winced slightly. “I’ll give you a little credit, Duchess, your coffee is better than this place.”
“It was actually Adam’s coffee,” Violet pointed out.
His expression turned stormy and sullen at the mention of his father, and Violet rubbed her forehead at the impending headache. Turning her attention to the menu, she saw that the omelet section alone seemed to have two dozen options, and there were nine different kinds of benedicts. How could one kitchen possibly do all of that well?
It couldn’t, Violet decided. She set the menu aside, deciding to play it safe and simple.
The waitress came back their way and needlessly topped off both their coffees. “What can I get you?”
Cain picked up Violet’s menu, stacked it on his, and handed both to the waitress, even though Violet hadn’t seen him even open it. “I’ll have pancakes, the Denver omelet, side of bacon. Sourdough toast. Actually… how are the biscuits?”
“For her”—the waitress pointed her pen at Violet—“they’re fine. For you… stick with the toast.”
“Why the different recommendation?” Violet asked curiously.
“Because I can tell from his accent he’s from somewhere that makes biscuits better than we do,” the waitress explained, before giving Violet an impatient look. “What are you having?”
“The fruit parfait, please,” Violet said, earning an eye roll as the waitress walked away without writing it down.
“The fruit parfait?” Cain echoed, looked torn between amusement and disgust, leaning toward the latter.
She shrugged. “I like fruit. I like yogurt. It’s not too heavy.”
He opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, then shook his head and took a gulp of coffee as he turned to stare out the window.
Violet used the opportunity to study him.
He really was strikingly handsome, she had to admit, despite the fact that he was not at all her type. His eyelashes were thick and curved in a way that she couldn’t achieve, even with the help of an eyelash curler. His dark hair was also thick and curly, pulled back in a messy knot at the nape of his neck, with just a few pieces escaping around his ears.
The truth was, he’d be downright pretty if not for the sharply defined jawline and dark facial hair that fell somewhere between stubble and scruff.
“Quit staring at me.”
“Just trying to figure you out,” she said, deliberately keeping her voice pleasant.
“I’m not your project.” He looked back at her.
“Well, actually, you sort of are.”
His jaw tensed, and he took another sip of coffee.
“Look,” Violet said, folding her hands in her lap. “Let’s be adults for a minute. You’re going to have to decide. Either you don’t want to go along with your grandmother’s plan, and you let her and me know the arrangement is off. Or, you agree to it and get on board.”
“I can be on board and not be happy about it.”
“Sure,” she nodded. “You could. If you were a sulky second grader, absolutely you could.”
“Well, what the hell would you do, Duchess? Some long-lost relative barges into your life, turning everything upside down. I’m guessing it would ruffle even your passionless feathers.”
Passionless. It was a strange sort of insult, and one that stung more than she’d have expected because it hit so close to home.
“I think I’d be grateful,” she said, “to learn I even had family who wanted to know me.”
He gave her a sharp look, and she realized she’d betrayed more than she meant to.
“Your grandmother,” he said after a moment of silence. “She was a friend of Edith’s?”
“Yes. She passed away when I was in college, but she raised me.” Violet took a sip of the coffee, though it tasted even worse as it cooled.
“What happened to your parents?”
Violet’s hand lifted instinctively to the pearls around her neck. “They died when I was eleven. They were in Costa Rica for a sightseeing tour. Their helicopter crashed.”
Cain said nothing for a long moment. Then, “Sucks.”
Violet smiled ruefully at the gruff assessment. “Yeah. But I’m lucky to have Edith. I was twenty-two when my grandmother died. Almost out of college, but honestly, I felt more child than adult. Edith was there for me on holidays, came to my graduation…”
“Must have been nice,” he muttered.
Violet instinctively reached across the table, touching his hand. “She really didn’t know about you, Cain. I know Edith. If she thought there was even the smallest chance she had a grandson out there, she’d have moved mountains to find you.”