9. Felicity

felicity

. . .

When I opened my eyes, I was naked and alone in Hutton’s bed. Instinctively, I reached for my glasses on the nightstand, but they weren’t there, and I remembered I hadn’t worn them when I set out on my errand of seduction last night.

Smiling, I fell back against the pillow and pulled the sheets up to my chin. We’d had so much fun—the kind of fun I’d always imagined having in bed with someone, but had never experienced. Sex was always so fraught with nerves and expectations—what if I was a disappointment? What if he was clueless? What did this mean for the relationship? How could I sneak out fairly quickly afterward because I liked to sleep in my own bed, or worse, how could I get him to leave so that I could have my bed to myself?

But there had been none of that with Hutton.

He’d made me feel sexy and beautiful, and he was the hottest, most skilled, most attentive guy I’d ever been with. I didn’t have to worry about what this meant for the relationship, because there wasn’t one, we were just pretending. And I didn’t have to invent excuses for why I had to leave or come up with reasons why it was a bad idea for him to stay the night...I’d wanted to sleep next to him.

The bathroom door opened and Hutton appeared, dressed in running clothes. “Hey.”

“Hi.” I sat up and smiled, covers gathered in front of my chest. “Heading out?”

“Yeah. Want to come with me?”

I thought about it, but decided I didn’t really feel like jumping out of bed and exerting myself right this moment. Mostly I just wanted to roll around in his sheets and relish last night’s delight. “Nah, you go ahead. I might take a jog later or something.”

“Okay.” He leaned over and squeezed my foot under the blankets. “The housekeeper will be here in about an hour. I texted her that I had a guest staying with me, so she wouldn’t be caught off guard by the naked girl in my bed.”

I laughed. “Thanks, but I’m getting up in a minute here. I need to go into work.”

“Isn’t the restaurant closed Mondays?”

“Yes, but I have to check in with Gianni—I want to go over details for tomorrow night’s proposal and ask him about getting Wednesday or Thursday off. After that, I was thinking of making a few dishes and taking some photos in your kitchen. Will you be around for dinner?”

“You’re cooking? Fuck yes.”

“Great.” I smiled. “Say hi to the Prancin’ Grannies for me. Will they be heartbroken about your engagement?”

“Probably. But maybe they’ll stop bugging me about their granddaughters now.”

“Good luck.”

He waved, and I watched him head out, recalling his firm, muscular body on mine last night. I’d been right about his physique—there had been ridges and lines aplenty. But it wasn’t just the way he looked. The guy could move . Not just his hips, but his arms, his hands, his mouth.

That tongue.

My core muscles clenched, and I closed my eyes. Warmth billowed beneath my skin, sending a tingle from my spine to the ends of my fingers and toes.

I couldn’t wait for our next practice session.

I got dressed, packed up my laptop, and headed over to Abelard Vineyards. When I arrived, I headed for the lobby, waved at the front desk staff, and knocked on Winnie’s office door.

At her desk, she looked up and smiled. “Good morning, future Mrs. French.”

I grinned. “Morning. You busy?”

“Not too bad. Come on in.” She gestured to the chairs opposite her desk. “What’s up? You’re not working today, are you?”

“Not officially.” Etoile was always closed on Mondays. “But I need to check with Gianni on a couple things for this week.” I couldn’t tell her about the proposal—Winnie was horrible at keeping secrets, and Ellie was her best friend. Gianni had made me promise to keep the plan from my sister.

“Like taking some days off to go to New York on a shopping spree with your billionaire boyfriend?”

“It’s not a shopping spree,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We’re just picking up the ring.”

“Where will you stay?” She picked up her coffee cup with her pinky extended. “The Ritz? The Carlyle? The Pierre?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. Then I couldn’t resist adding. “But we’re chartering a private jet to fly there.”

Her jaw dropped. “Stop it! Aren’t you high-falutin’?”

“Listen, Hutton works hard. He’s earned the right to falute a little.”

“I agree one hundred percent, and I look forward to faluting vicariously through you. But hey, if you stay at The Pierre, steal one of the bathroom robes for me. They’re glorious.”

Laughing, I shook my head. “I will not be stealing any bathrobes. Anyway, I wanted to make sure you can still help out in the Etoile booth tomorrow night.”

“Yes. I’ll be there. Six, right?”

“Perfect. The second thing is, I wondered if you might help me sift through some of these messages I’m getting from companies wanting to collaborate with me.” I set my phone on her desk and shrank back, like it was emitting an offensive odor. “My follower count and inbox have gone bananas, I have no idea if any of these people are legit, and it feels kind of icky that all I did was get engaged to Hutton and now I’m insanely popular.”

“I’d be glad to help you.” She sat back in her chair and studied me thoughtfully. “But you don’t have to say yes to any of them if you don’t want to.”

“Half the companies reaching out to me have nothing to do with food. It’s like clothes or cosmetics or hair products. Can you imagine? Me , recommending hair products? I’m even fielding requests regarding my wedding day. Someone wants to send me a case of self-tanner!”

She laughed. “So say no.”

“But is that stupid? What if it helps my business? I won’t get a book deal without a platform.”

“I get that. But ideally, you want to build an audience of people who would be interested in what you do, what you say, and who’d eventually buy your book. Recommending a self-tanner might earn you a little extra cash, but it probably won’t build your audience. A better use of your time would probably be concentrating on putting out more content. And it’s not like you need the extra cash for rent anymore.”

I squirmed in my chair. “Right. I am going to put out more content.”

“Good. So if it doesn’t feel right to say yes to those offers, don’t. But of course I can help you sort through it all.”

“Thanks. I’m going to head over to see Gianni and then I’ll be back.” I left Winnie’s office and headed for Etoile’s kitchen, where I found Gianni going over inventory.

“Morning,” I said.

“Morning.” He nodded toward the coffee machine. “Coffee’s hot if you want some.”

“Thanks.” I poured myself a cup. “All set for tomorrow night?”

“I think so.” He grinned devilishly, his eyes lighting up. “She’s going to be so fucking mad at me.”

I laughed. “She’ll still say yes.” Ellie and Gianni had also known each other since childhood, but unlike Hutton and me, they’d been enemies and not friends. Still, they had fantastic chemistry, although it had taken being stranded for two days in a January blizzard at a roadside motel—which had resulted in an unexpected pink plus sign a month later—for them to realize they were good together.

“Just don’t forget the final prop,” he said. “Once she’s wearing the ring, I need to throw a whipped cream pie in her face.”

Shaking my head, I laughed again. “I really cannot wait to see this proposal go down.”

“Speaking of proposals.” He cocked his head. “What’s this I hear about you being secretly engaged? Ellie was losing her mind yesterday.”

“Oh. Yeah.” My cheeks grew hot, and I gave him a weak smile. “Surprise.”

“I can’t believe you never said anything. When’s the wedding?”

“Um, we’re thinking next month.”

Gianni’s blue eyes popped. “Wow. That’s fast.” He glanced at my waistline. “Is there a reason?”

“Not that kind of reason,” I assured him. “We just...don’t want to wait, I guess.”

“Don’t let anybody make you feel bad about that,” he said with the cocky assurance he always had. “People always think they know how everyone else should live their lives and make their choices, because that’s the way they did it. But it’s bullshit. There’s no one right way to do things—it’s all right in the end, as long as it gets you where you want to go. The journey looks different for everybody, and it should .”

“Thanks,” I said, wondering where exactly it was that I wanted my journey with Hutton to go. “I appreciate that.”

“And Ellie mentioned you guys have been good friends for a lot of years, so maybe it wasn’t that sudden anyway.”

“It was slow and sudden.” I smiled. “Both things can be true.”

When I was done in the kitchen, I returned to Winnie’s office and we did a little research into some of the companies requesting to work with me. Most of the offers I had no problem rejecting, but there were a few cooking-related, female-owned businesses that I thought sounded interesting, so we made a list and responded to them. Winnie suggested I respond to the awful Dearly Beloved review too.

“You think so? That’s what Millie said.”

“I would,” she said with a shrug. “Show potential clients that you honestly care. Because the biggest priority is getting more reviews, and to get those, you need more business. I think you could do it in a way that shows your professionalism and character.”

I decided to take my sisters’ advice, replying to He Put A Big A** Ring On It with an apology, saying I was sorry she was disappointed, but that I stood behind my work and would therefore be glad to offer a refund.

“Perfect,” said Winnie.

“I should go,” I said, noticing the time. “I need to hit the market on my way home. I want to try a few new recipes and take some photos while the light is good in the kitchen.”

“Let me know when those companies get back to you,” Winnie said, stretching her arms overhead. “I think you made the right choices.”

I tucked my laptop into my bag. “Thanks for the help.”

“So I was wondering,” she said with a put-on casual air, “do you have plans for the last Saturday evening in July? The 30th?”

I glanced at her and noticed she was staring intently at a plant on her desk, like she couldn’t meet my eyes.

“Not that I’m aware of. Why?”

“No reason. No reason,” she said in the same false, high-pitched tone. Then she sat there with her lips mashed together so tightly, it was as if she was afraid if she opened them, something might fly out.

I knew what it meant. “Winnie. Do you know something?”

She made sounds that might have been words but kept her mouth completely closed, like really bad ventriloquy.

“For heaven’s sake, Win. You know something. Out with it.”

“But I promised I wouldn’t telllllll,” she said, as if it pained her.

“You know you can’t keep a secret.”

She slapped one hand over her mouth. Then the other on top of the first.

“Winifred.”

She slid off her chair and hid beneath her desk.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I’m leaving.”

Her voice came from beneath her desk. “If I tell you, you have to promise me that you won’t say anything.”

“Okay.”

She stood up and smoothed her skirt. “So while you were in the kitchen, I got a phone call from Hutton’s mom.”

I gestured for her to get on with it. “And?”

“She wants to plan a surprise outdoor engagement party for you guys here on the patio.”

I gasped. “Shoot! On the 30th?”

“Yes. The crazy thing was, that date was booked right up until this morning! Literally, the event that was scheduled got canceled like ten minutes before she called. It was some kind of weird kismet.”

“I bet Mrs. French loved that.”

Winnie nodded. “She did! I haven’t confirmed with her yet—but I feel weird going along with it because I know Hutton doesn’t love parties. Although you’d think his mom would know that.”

“She knows.” I sighed.

“So will he be okay with it?”

“Are you kidding? He hates parties when he isn’t the center of attention. This one will be torture for him.”

“So should I make something up? Tell her that other event wasn’t canceled after all?” She looked scared. “I could get in trouble for that.”

“No, don’t. She could easily go somewhere else, and then we’ll have no control or inside information.” I slung my laptop bag over my shoulder. “Go ahead and tell her yes. We’ll get through it.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. But I’m not going to let it be a surprise,” I warned her. “I have to tell him.”

“Will he go right to his mom?” Winnie’s brow furrowed. “She made me swear I’d keep it a secret.”

“She obviously doesn’t know you very well,” I said with a grin. “But I’ll make sure Hutton understands the situation.”

“Thanks.” Relieved, she smiled and sat back in her chair. “It’s going to be a beautiful party, I promise.”

“Keep it small,” I pleaded. “Intimate.”

“I told her the max the patio can accommodate is thirty. And Etoile is also open that night, so the kitchen can’t handle too much more food.”

“Thirty is perfect. Keep me posted.”

On my way to the market, I called Hutton’s cell.

“You know I hate the phone,” he said when he picked up.

“I do. But I can’t text and drive.”

“Never do that. Did you talk to Gianni?”

“Yes, and he said it’s not a problem. I can take Wednesday and Thursday night off. Ellie will cover for me.”

“Good. I’ll book the trip.”

“Yay!” My heart danced with excitement. “I’m heading to the market, and I was wondering if there was anything in particular you’d like for dinner,” I said, figuring I’d butter him up with his favorite dish before telling him about the party.

“Does it have to be vegetarian?”

“Nope. I can do anything.”

“Steak.”

I sighed. “Of course steak.”

“Hey, you said anything.”

“I did, and I will cook you a steak,” I said with a laugh. “It’s not that I don’t think they’re delicious—I know they are. I just don’t feel great after I eat meat, so I stick to other things. How’s your day going?”

“Fine, although I have a call scheduled later this afternoon with Wade that I’m not looking forward to, and not just because I hate the phone.”

“Is it about testifying?”

“Yes. He says he has more details about what questions I’ll have to answer. He’s in touch with committee members.”

“Well, more details are good, right? The better prepared you can be, the more confident you’ll feel. How was your run?” I asked, changing topics. “Did you see the Prancin’ Grannies?”

“Yes. They tried to accost me the minute I got out of my car. I had my earbuds in, so I pretended I didn’t hear them and just started running. They couldn’t keep up with me.”

I laughed. “Poor grannies. They just want your attention for a few minutes.”

“They’re vicious. You don’t know them. In fact, now that they think we’re engaged, they’re probably going to come after you. Better watch your back for those pink bedazzled shirts.”

I laughed as I pulled into a parking space in the grocery store lot. “I’ll be on my guard.”