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“What happened Saturday night? You didn’t talk to her again?”
Telling Gian to lay off is about as effective as saying the same to Enzo. He’s only slightly more inclined to actually do it.
“Can we talk about the fall promotion?”
“I’m trying to,” he counters, pulling up to a police officer attempting to stop us from driving down the blocked-off street.
“No, you’re fishing for information on something that has nothing to do with DeLuca’s.”
“I beg to differ. Evaline Fuller has everything to do with your restaurant.” He leans out the window. “We’re heading to the tent.”
The officer looks into our car. “Sorry, Gian, didn’t recognize the truck. Hey, Tris, how’s it going?”
“Good. Will be even better when we get this burner up there. Looks like it’s getting pretty busy.”
Although it’s not even four o’clock, there are at least double as many people as there were when we left.
“Friday night with decent weather.” Bob steps aside. “Have a good one, guys.”
“Same to you.” Gian steers us left onto the street and pulls up behind our tent. “For what it’s worth,” he says before getting out, “I think it’s a good call. Dating the owner of Leoni’s would be messy at best. A disaster at worst.”
Gian isn’t telling me something I don’t already know. “Thanks for the advice on my love life, G. Coming from you, it means a lot.”
Meaning, if I were to take advice from anyone on the topic, it would not be my baby brother. The guy has more women in and out of his life than Hugh Hefner.
“No problem. Thought you might need it. Seeing as her tent is just two away from yours. And she appears to be manning it.”
My head snaps toward where Gian is looking. On the back side of the tents along the closed street, vendors load and unload trucks, bring in ingredients, and generally run around like chickens with their heads cut off.
Sure enough, she’s back here. I didn’t see her all day yesterday or this morning.
I’d looked but never actually made my way toward her tent.
“At least you’re not interested in her,” Gian says sarcastically.
I join my brother at the tailgate, ignoring him.
She’s dressed in jeans and a tank top. I’m surprised Gian recognized her. With her hair in a baseball hat, from the back, it’s hard to see much.
Except a perfectly shaped ass. Of course she bends down for something just as I look. Amy O’Brien, the owner of Sweet & Eats who runs the tent next to mine, stands between us. She notices me looking and waves.
I wave back.
“Snagged by O’Brien. Slick, Tris.”
Amy and my brother have been friends since birth. Surprisingly, she’s just about the only woman in Bridgewater his age he hasn’t actually dated.
“I wasn’t snagged,” I say as he opens the tailgate.
“Whatever you say.”
I reach for the burner, ignore my brother, and vow to put Evie Fuller out of my head. Something I haven’t yet accomplished since last weekend, probably because her food tent is thirty feet away. In three more days, I can go back to worrying about the important things.
Like how to bring more customers into DeLuca’s and expand our reach beyond Bridgewater. Because like it or not, Enzo will take back the money he gave me for the building. I’m not dumb enough to do it yet. Every penny I’ve made so far has gone right back into the restaurant. But I’m getting there. It’s doing better than expected.
And nothing, certainly not Evie Fuller, will put the brakes on my plans.
9
