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“That’s not his reputation. He’s known for being more chilly than kind,” Deena pointed out.
“Only because you’ve never found yourself driven home by him. You’ve never had him hold your hand because you bawled your eyes out over how lonely you felt, how much you’d screwed everything up.”
“Are you talking about the night of Chef’s party?”
It had happened months ago. She knew it had been a meaningful night for Deena, but what no one with the exception of Sebastian knew was that it had been a rough day for her. She’d found out her father had a tumor.
She should have stayed home, but she’d found herself at the party trying to pretend like he wasn’t going to potentially die and leave her an orphan. She’d been a twenty-eight-year-old terrified of losing her father since losing her mother was still a knife through her soul even ten years later.
“Yes, I am.”
“You were worried about your dad that night, weren’t you? That’s why you drank so much,” Deena said. “I didn’t know at the time because you didn’t bother to mention it until after he’d had his surgery and was given a clean bill of health.”
They’d managed to get every bit of the tumor and it had turned out to be benign, but that evening all she could think of was how much she would miss her dad.
“He showed up,” she said quietly. “Dad’s surgery was two days later and Sebastian showed up and sat beside me in the waiting room. Dad had asked me not to tell my sisters because Berry had a job in New York and it’s hard for V to come home from France. She doesn’t like to fly.”
Her younger sister, Versace, didn’t like to do anything that could harm the earth, and most forms of transportation did the trick. If V couldn’t get somewhere in her biodiesel, ancient-as-hell VW bug, she usually didn’t go at all. So Tiffany had been there all alone in a cold hospital waiting room worried as hell that she was going to have to call her sisters and tell them Daddy was gone.
And then Sebastian had sat down beside her, offering her a Styrofoam cup of coffee with a little cream and two sugars, exactly as she liked it. He’d sat down and told her about his own father and the time had passed.
She hadn’t been alone on what could have been the worst day of her life because Sebastian Lowe had taken his day off to ensure she had someone to talk to.
If she’d been attracted to him before, she wasn’t sure what to call how she felt about him after. Infatuated. Bewitched. Slightly in love.
What the hell was she going to do if this didn’t work?
“You never told me that,” Deena said quietly. “Of course, that was right about the time I was all caught up in my drama with Eric, so I bet you didn’t want to burden me. You know, you do that far too often.”
She didn’t like to be a burden. It was more fun to be helpful. “I was okay. Sebastian saw to that.”
And then he’d promptly taken to avoiding her. He was polite enough, but there was a chill that she wanted to thaw. Needed to thaw.
She wanted to get back to that moment when his hand had slid over hers. To the night where he’d put his arms around her and promised her everything would be all right, when his mouth had hovered over hers and she’d been so sure he was going to kiss her.
If she thought for a second that he didn’t want her, that this wasn’t all about his damn legs or lack thereof, she would have hesitated. It wasn’t that she thought she was the be-all, end-all of attraction. But she’d felt his longing. And then she’d watched him withdraw the minute she’d seen him without his legs.
Damn it, the man didn’t need legs to be amazing and gorgeous. He didn’t need anything at all. He was the sexiest man ever without them.
There was a brisk knock on her door and she realized it was exactly two o’clock.
“I have to go, D. Are you going to be anywhere near the restaurant tomorrow? I’m starting training with Eric’s chosen front of house.” She moved toward the door.
“I’ll stop in. Love you.”
“Back at you.” She was so thankful to have Deena in her life. “He’s here. See you tomorrow.”
She hung up the phone and opened the door. There he was. He was stunningly masculine in slacks and a button down he’d totally buttoned up and a suit coat. No tie for him, which made the look casual for the always dressed up sommelier. The trouble was she knew exactly how hot the man was under his polished exterior. “Hey. Come on in and I’ll get ready to go.”
He looked so incongruous stepping inside her bohemian apartment. He was perfectly done up from his hair down to his wing-tip shoes. “I thought we agreed you would be ready at two.”
And she was. Mostly. She gave him a smile as she moved toward her bedroom. She wasn’t going to sit in a car with him for forty minutes without making sure her makeup wasn’t smudged. “I won’t be but a second. And I packed light. Just the two suitcases and an overnight bag.”
“I’ll bring you back here if you need more. We’re going to be gone for at least eight weeks. I’ll make sure we have the same days off so I can drive you.” He took off his sunglasses and looked around the place.
It was easy to see he wasn’t impressed, but then she wasn’t much of a housekeeper. She was too busy with her art. She would drop everything when inspired. Although when she wasn’t inspired, it wasn’t like she found a mad love for cleaning.
“As long as we have a washing machine, I should be fine. I’ll get my purse and we can go.” She went into the bathroom and took a deep breath.
