He sets the chair down and drops onto it, so he’s sitting between the two of us. “How’s the wine, Delora?”
“So good,” she murmurs. “I’m just finishing up something with Larry. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
Sean doesn’t say anything until she’s nearing the ladies’ restroom. “She’ll be gone for at least the next fifteen. Dean is bringing you a big brownie sundae, Champ.”
“Dean?” I question.
“Your waiter,” he says, his gaze dropping to the red dress I’ve been wearing all day. “You need that dessert after what you’ve been through tonight.”
I grin. “Thank you.”
A slow smile spreads across his lips. “It’s my pleasure, Calliope.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sean
I trail Calliope as we leave the restaurant.
Our time spent with Delora after she ‘finished with Larry’ was fun.
She told a couple of good-natured stories about the early days of Wells. Back then, Declan and I were flying by the seat of our collective pants. We were drawing on words of wisdom bestowed upon us by our grandfather, Stetson Wells. Stetson founded one of the most successful whiskey brands in the country when he was old enough to consume it legally.
He built it up with hard work and determination until he sold it shortly before his death. I hated him for that. It was always my dream to take that company’s reins one day. At my grandfather’s funeral I found out that my older brother carted that same dream around with him.
Declan went to law school to appease our mother, but his career path changed after graduating.
With part of our joint inheritances from the old man, we launched Wells.
It’s taken grit and a hell of a lot of stubborn resolve, but we’ve accomplished not only our wildest dreams, we’ve also surpassed them ten times over.
Once we’re clear of the crowds exiting Sérénité, Calliope glances over her shoulder at me. “Have you met Larry?”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “Unfortunately, I have.”
That turns her around to face me. “Unfortunately? What does that mean?”
I shove both hands in the front pockets of my pants. “Larry is a hugger.”
Her index finger jumps to the side of her nose. She scratches it lightly, drawing my gaze to that exact spot. “You don’t like hugging?”
“I fucking love it,” I say, still transfixed with her nose. “You have a tiny diamond stud in your nose.”
Her fingertip taps it before she drops her hand. “I got it back in high school. I kind of like it.”
I kind of do, too, along with the rest of her breathtaking face, her laugh, the scent of her perfume, and her ability to pack away an entire dessert while still looking elegant and graceful.
“What’s Larry like?” she questions.
“Why?” I study her face wondering if I’ve missed anything else. “He’s off the market. It’s only a matter of time before he pops the question to Delora again.”
Her blue eyes widen under heavy lashes. “You think she’s going to get married for the fourth time?”
“I know she will,” I say with confidence. “If Delora likes one thing more than a good bottle of wine, it’s a husband.”
A scowl mars her perfect face. “I can’t fathom that.”
I glance past her to where people are walking on the sidewalk. “Larry’s a good guy. Granted, he grabbed my ass when he hugged me, but he said he was checking out the quality of my pants, so I let it slide.”
Calliope laughs. “You’re not serious?”
“Dead serious.” My arms cross my chest. “Overall, he’s a decent guy. He loves Delora, and I think she loves him too in her own way.”
“But they already divorced once.” Confusion knits her brow and taints her words. “Why put yourself back in the middle of a relationship that has already failed?”
I sense there’s a hell of a lot more to the question, so I ask one. “Have you ever been married, Calliope?”
Her eyes bore into mine. “Have you?”
Deflection is a clever tool unless the person you’re attempting to use it on is more of a master at it than you are.
I step closer to her. “I haven’t taken that plunge. Have you?”
There’s no way in hell I’m dropping this. Curiosity has a death grip on me, and it’s not going to let go until I know something, anything, about this woman’s personal life.
“I was engaged,” she admits. “Once.”
“When?” That shoots out from between my lips before I can think it through.
She studies me as if she’s weighing the consequences of answering. “It ended about six months ago.”
Her gaze trails away from my face to the steady flow of traffic in front of the restaurant.
I summoned Jurgen five minutes ago, so he’ll be rounding the corner at any moment. We’ll get into the car. She’ll share small talk with my driver until we’re home and the night will end.
I’m not ready for that.
“Let’s get a drink,” I suggest.
“A drink?” she echoes.
“One drink,” I clarify. “I can give you the inside scoop on Delora, so you have a leg up when dealing with her. For instance, if you bring her a dozen freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on a Friday morning, she’ll give you the afternoon off.”