My feet suddenly stop as my mouth falls open. “What did you do?” The little shop has been cleared out so that there’s only a single dining table, complete with drippy candles, and two chairs. White twinkle lights surround the room, hidden in pale flowy fabric that mimics the waves. The sound and scent of the ocean fills my head, but the fireplace next to the table warms the room. The scents of fall, sea water, and crackling wood mix together.
“I thought you might need a nice night.” Sean sounds uncertain, like he isn’t sure if I like it.
Turning slowly, I look up at him. “You did this for me?” He nods. “When?” Other than the altercation with Naked Guy, Sean has been with me all day. I can’t imagine when he had time to arrange it.
Looking at me through those thick, dark lashes, he says, “When we first got here. You ran into the ladies room, and I called my mother’s chef and had him come out along with a few of her designers to make the room a little better. I just had to keep you from freezing to death before now. I didn’t plan on going for a swim.”
“You should have taken off your boots.” I grin at him.
Sean steps toward me, his eyes darkening, and that sexy smile on his lips. He brushes the back of his hand along my cheek before whispering in my ear. “I’m glad I didn’t.” I shiver, but it has nothing to do with being cold.
CHAPTER 12
Course after course is brought out to the table on silver trays. Beautiful Ferro china plates that cost more than my car are placed in front of me with little portions of food. I stare at my main course without moving to pick up a fork. My head is tilted to the side slightly as I look at my plate.
“What’s wrong?” Sean ask. “I thought you liked chicken cordon bleu, and those little carrots.”
My bottom lip quivers and I can see the horror spreading across Sean’s face like spilled paint. I rush to wipe away the look before I ruin all his hard work. I would have never thought he’d do something like this for me, ever. Reaching across the table, I take his hand and pat it. “I do. I mean, I haven’t had a meal like this since my parents died. The only time I eat chicken cordon bleu is at Wendy’s. And I do love little carrots. This is beyond words, Sean.”
My stomach sinks as my old life clashes with the new one. This man is trying so hard to make me smile, but he conjured ghosts with his gift. When I look up at him, I try my best to blind him with a bright smile, but he sees the sadness in my eyes. I’m such a train wreck. Sniffling, I smile and ask, “Who cries over cute little carrots?” My vision blurs as my eyes brim with tears.
Without a word, Sean stands, walks over to my seat, and holds out his hand. The chef comes out, looking rather horrified, and covers the plates with silvery domes before disappearing into the back room again. Seeing Sean’s hard body in a soft sweat suit is so strange. My eyes travel over him once more before I take his hand and apologize.
Sean pulls me into his arms and holds me for a moment. Then music starts playing. It’s a slow song, something that I haven’t heard in a long time. Sean takes my hand as he steps back and pulls me with him. His other hand drops to my waist. Looking down at me, he slides his flip flopped feet across the floor and I can’t help but smile. “You can dance?”
“And you can follow. Who knew?” he teases, as he grips my hand loosely and leads me under his arm so I do a slow spin before coming back to him.
“I can follow.” He laughs. “Okay, that’s a lie. I can follow sometimes, when my mood is right.”
“And the waning moon is hung in the winter sky, just to the right of Jupiter—” Sean makes an oof sound as I elbow him.
“Didn’t your mother teach you manners? You seem to say whatever snide remark is floating through your mind.” The memories of my mother’s voice and wintery nights in our warm little house are no longer strangling me now that I’m in his arms.
How am I supposed to reconcile my past with my present? It seems impossible. People told me that one day the memories won’t hurt so much, but each time one pops up, it feels like I’ve been hit over the head with a shovel. One day I’ll smile and the grief won’t be there. Such thoughts seem like fairy tales. I’m more likely to find an alligator wearing a tutu on the subway, than think of my parents and smile without feeling any pain.
Sean’s voice tightens. “My mother taught me many things. She’s a ruthless, cold woman, and not the person who you’d want me to emulate.”
“Oh.” Before I manage to completely mess up the evening, I add, “Then tell me, if you could pattern yourself after someone, who would it be?”