“Hold up,” Mason said, tugging at one of Daisy’s curls. “There will be many, many occasions when we’ll be far too busy for him.”
Daisy blushed before elbowing Mason in the ribs.
“You know what I mean, Spencer,” she said, ignoring Mason’s chuckle.
“Thanks, honey,” he said with a grin, and the grooves in his cheeks turned into full-on dimples. The smile had a weird effect on Daff, and she touched a quick hand to her chest, not sure what to make of the suddenly off-kilter beat of her heart.
Their beleaguered waitress eventually made her way to the table and everybody paused for a moment to place their orders, nobody bothering to check the menu they all knew by heart.
“Thanks, Thandiwe.” Daisy smiled at the young waitress, who also happened to be an intern at the veterinary practice where Daisy partnered with their father.
“So while you’re all here, Daisy and I have some news,” Mason said, toying with Daisy’s fingers. Daff’s eyes flew to her youngest sister’s face, and she was alarmed to note that Daisy looked . . . subdued. “After the wedding, we’ll be moving to Grahamstown while I complete my studies.”
Mason would be studying architecture, they all knew that, but until he just spoke the words aloud, Daff hadn’t thought any of them had considered that the only way he could do so would be for him to leave Riversend.
“We picked it because it’s closer than Cape Town, so we can still make the drive back to Riversend on some weekends and for the holidays.”
“What about the practice?” Lia asked Daisy, her voice shaking slightly.
“We considered me staying here and Mason commuting back every weekend, but in the end decided that we didn’t want to be apart for such long stretches at a time. I’ve spoken to Daddy about it, and he says he’ll hire someone to help out and when Mason and I return I’ll take over the practice.”
“That sucks,” Daff said, more devastated by the news than she allowed them to see. She leveled an accusatory glare on Mason. “You just had to take her away from us, didn’t you, asshole?”
“I’ll bring her back,” he said with a somber smile. “This is our home. We want to raise our kids here.”
“The five years will fly by, and we’ll visit so often it’ll be like we’ve never left,” Daisy added.
“Five years?” The dismay was evident in Lia’s voice, and her eyes shone with tears. She lowered her head quickly to hide them, but everybody had already seen them. Not that Daff blamed her—she felt like howling, too. She sneaked a peek at Spencer, but his face was downcast and unreadable. Only the slight tightening of his lips betrayed how he might be feeling, but other than that he was a closed book.
“When will you move?” Daff asked.
“Probably late January, so we’ll have time enough to get settled and find a place before the semester starts.”
“That’s less than five months away,” Lia stated unnecessarily. “And you haven’t even set a date for the wedding yet.”
“We thought the first Saturday in November,” Mason said, and Lia gasped.
“Does our mom know? I can’t imagine she’s too thrilled about that!”
“She’s not. But because it’s a backyard wedding, I’m not anticipating too much work,” Mason said, and all three women shot him identical incredulous looks, which he returned with a blank, confused stare.
“What? What did I say?” Mason asked, and Spencer chuckled softly. The unfamiliar sound startled Daff into looking at him. His handsome, rugged face was alight with laughter as he grinned at his brother.
“I’m thinking they don’t agree with you.”
“But it won’t be a huge production like Lia’s wedding was,” he retorted. “No fancy hotels and gift bags and froufrou crap like that. I imagine it’ll be more like a braai or something . . . won’t it?” The last two words sounded uncertain when Daisy shot him a lethal glare.
“Mason, our wedding isn’t going to be some common braai, where people show up in shorts and drink beers with their barbecued steaks!”
“I mean, I know we’ll put a fancier spin on it, but . . .”
“No! We’re hiring caterers for the three- to four-course dinner. There will be proper tableware and silverware, no paper plates, no paper napkins, and no plastic forks.” Daisy’s face was going an unbecoming shade of red and Daff, her earlier sadness shelved for the moment, sat back and enjoyed her youngest sister’s rare display of temper.
“I’m sorry, angel. Of course it will be beautiful and romantic and everything you want it to be,” Mason asserted hastily, and Daff snorted. The guy was thoroughly whipped and it was glorious to see. Daisy’s bottom lip quivered ever so slightly and Mason swore beneath his breath before dropping an arm around her shoulders and dragging her close to whisper in her ear. He followed up whatever he said with a kiss to her neck, and a reluctant smile softened her lips.
The show of intimacy made Daff uncomfortable and she shifted her eyes, only to meet Spencer’s hooded green gaze. He looked grim, and again she wondered how he felt about the news that Daisy and Mason would be leaving soon.
She wasn’t sure how to break eye contact and was grateful when their food arrived to distract everyone. The rest of the conversation centered around wedding plans, and Mason wisely kept his mouth shut this time and offered input only when asked.
“I’ll take you to the farm to pick up your car, Daff,” Lia offered between bites of her lasagna, and Daff smiled gratefully. She hadn’t exactly been relishing the thought of walking back to the farm in the cold. Spencer barely said a word as the meal continued, which was kind of unnerving when one considered how he had once seized every opportunity to talk to her in the past. His bumbling conversational attempts hadn’t been very sophisticated or remotely successful, but Daff was honest enough to admit to herself that she hadn’t made it very easy on him. Depending on her mood, she would half-heartedly encourage him or completely ignore him. It had taken him long enough to get fed up with her mixed signals, and part of her mourned the loss of his earnest attempts at conversation. Another—much smaller—part of her was happy he no longer seemed interested in her.
She considered his strong, masculine profile again while he spoke with his brother, and she sighed. Yes, only the very smallest part of her was happy about the loss of his attention.
He turned his head unexpectedly and nailed her again with his penetrating stare. Her throat went horribly dry at the latent heat she saw in that burning regard. Why had she never noticed that before? Never seen all that intensity beneath the formidable brow and the flop of shaggy hair? It made her knees feel so shaky she was happy to be sitting down.
She broke eye contact and focused on her salad. She tensed when she felt him lean toward her. He smelled absolutely wonderful, and she bit back a moan as her awareness of him seemed to heighten even further.
“You should eat real food. Meat, potatoes, corn. I don’t know what that is, but it wouldn’t even satisfy a rabbit.” Startled by his observation, Daff’s envious eyes fell to his sirloin steak and baked potato. A man-size meal for a formidably sized man.
“Spoken like a guy who’s never had to worry about the size of his ass.”
“Hmm,” he rumbled. “I do, however, worry about the size of yours. You continue to eat like this and the nice handful you have there will fade to nothing.”
Her jaw dropped—that was so much more brazen than she was used to from him, and judging by the way his eyes shuttered, he immediately regretted his words.
His body moved subtly so that he was practically leaning away from her, physically putting as much distance between them as he could without alerting anyone else around the table.
“That was uncalled for,” he said, his voice pitched low. “I’m sorry.”
“Uh . . .” Daff wasn’t sure how exactly to respond to his initial observation and subsequent apology and knew she should simply let it go. Accept the apology and pretend it had never happened.
“I’m on a diet,” she confessed and then wondered at the admission as well as the complete lack of artifice in her voice. The prospect of dieting made her miserable, and her voice conveyed that very sentiment.
“That’s bullshit,” he growled, his own voice surprisingly angry. “You’re perfect the way you are. What is it with women and this quest for imagined perfection when there’s nothing wrong with you in the first place?”
His voice rose, and the rest of the table fell silent.
“What’s going on?” Daisy asked warily, and Spencer gestured toward Daff.
“Your sister’s on a diet.” Daff cringed when every eye turned to her, all expressions conveying various degrees of disbelief.
“You are? Why?” Daisy asked, her eyes wide in surprise. “You’ve never dieted before.” Daff knew Daisy often lamented the fact that neither Lia nor Daff ever found it necessary to diet, while she constantly battled with her weight.
“I just . . .” Daff shrugged uncomfortably. “I think it’s best to maintain a healthy lifestyle. It’s a lot harder to keep the weight off after thirty—best not to let it creep up on me.”