Except the man of the house.
Hugh stood in the shadows on the flagstone patio, a glass of red wine in his hand, looking very regal. And utterly handsome in black trousers and a crisp white shirt. If Delaney wasn’t careful, she might get her heart broken. He turned, a subtle smile erasing his serious resting face. “Hello again.”
“Hi.” She moved closer but not enough to invade his space. “This place…the house, the garden…it’s incredible.”
“Thank you. I’ve worked hard on it. My home is my sanctuary. But then I guess that’s true for most people.” He took a sip of his wine. “What’s your house like?”
She froze. Did Annabelle live in a house? An apartment? She had no idea. He’s just a guest at the restaurant, keep him happy. She laughed. “Nothing like this. Did you pick out everything yourself?”
He glanced toward the great room. “It’s really more of a collection than a deliberate act of decorating.”
If that was his idea of a collection, then her random assortment of candy molds was more like a flea market accident.
His gaze shifted to her in a very purposeful way. “I just like what I like.”
The little hairs on the back of her neck lifted the way they did when someone flirted with her. Was that where they were now? Flirting? She looked toward the garden and bit her tongue before her nerves caused her to blurt out a random chocolate fact.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a terrible host. I haven’t offered you a glass of wine. Red all right? It’s very good. Local, actually.”
Anything but Chianti was fine with her. “Great.” So long as she didn’t drink too much and forget who she was pretending to be.
“I’ll just be a moment.” He slipped inside.
Before she went to sleep tonight, she was going to Google Annabelle Givens and study that woman until she knew everything about her. Maybe that would help with her nerves.
Hugh returned and handed her a glass, then raised his in a toast. “To new beginnings?”
So much for keeping a safe distance from him. He was so close she could smell his cologne. It was spicy and complex, like good dark chocolate. Her mouth watered. Down, girl. “New beginnings.”
They clinked, then drank, and for a moment, she could picture herself in this place being the woman she was pretending to be. Sophisticated, cultured and assuredly beautiful Annabelle Givens. Annabelle had to be that kind of woman, or Adelaide Poirot never would have matched her with a man like Hugh.
The sun dropped a little farther, turning the sky the most vibrant shades of orange and pink. “It’s really beautiful here. Lots of trees and nature.”
Nothing like Brooklyn. She took another sip of her wine.
He gave her an odd look. “Doesn’t upstate New York have a lot of trees and nature?”
She drank some more wine, buying herself a little time to cover her slip. “Oh, sure, but it just seems greener here. More quiet and peaceful too.”
He laughed. “If you like quiet and peaceful, don’t go into town.”
“Gets rowdy, huh?”
“After dark, things really start up. Plus, this weekend is the Panic Parade.” He sighed and shook his head like he thought the whole thing was a little nuts.
“The Panic Parade?”
“I believe it grew out of the traditional May Day celebration. Except May Day has been reinterpreted as a cry for help as opposed to a celebration of spring.”
“I get it.” She canted her head and laughed softly. “Although, I have to admit, the whole every day is Halloween thing threw me. What’s up with that?” Ugh. Annabelle had probably never said what’s up with that a day in her life.
His grin didn’t fade. “It’s how the town makes money.”
“Halloween?”
“Tourists.” He took a deep breath. “When my family bought this town—”
“You own this town?” Oh boy. She was in deep. No wonder he was filthy rich and didn’t need to get out of bed until the day was nearly over. He owned everything! All right, slow down on the wine. And no wonder Annabelle had been so bummed her match had been canceled.
“We only own parts of it now.” He made a small face like it was nothing. “But when my family bought the town, it was floundering and on the verge of bankruptcy. The winery was closed, as were most of the other local businesses. The whole idea of every day is Halloween turned things around.”
He raised one eyebrow. “It’s America’s third-favorite holiday, you know.”
She almost laughed at how official sounding his voice was. He must tell people that a lot. “Halloween candy sales topped two billion dollars last year.” Crap. The random candy fact had just slipped out. At least it was relevant.