Page 88 of Small Town Swoo
“You don’t want kids?”
“I don’t know. Maybe someday, but I don’t feel qualified at this point in my life. There’s too much I want to do first. I think Abelard should be coming up on the left here shortly.”
A moment later, we turned onto a tree-lined gravel driveway that curved around in front of a gorgeous stone villa that looked like it had been plucked right out of the French countryside. Parking for Etoile was around to theside, and I stared, slack-jawed, at the château as we pulled around it. It looked like a fairy tale.
When we got out of the car, I inhaled. The air was just as seductive as the view, perfumed with spring flowers. Dash came around and took my arm, and I smiled up at him, grateful for the assistance on the gravel in my heels.
As we walked along the path to the restaurant’s entrance, we passed a group of older women who looked like they might have been friends enjoying an afternoon of wine tasting. “Gorgeous couple,” said one, while another stumbled over her own feet staring so hard at Dash. I couldn’t blame her.
Dash held the restaurant door open for me, and I stepped inside. It was a cozy, intimate space—I counted only nine tables, all but one occupied—lit by tabletop candles and wall sconces that cast a gentle glow. The scent of freshly baked bread, garlic, and herbs filled the air, and I inhaled appreciatively. Then Dash’s hand was resting on my lower back, guiding me toward the hostess stand, and my breath was caught in my lungs.
The hostess smiled when Dash gave his name. “Gianni said to let him know when you arrived. Wait right here, please.”
“Nice, huh?” Dash was looking out the restaurant’s windows, which framed the sun sinking behind the vineyard, casting a golden glow over the vines and painting the clouds in pastel watercolors. But I could hardly appreciate the scenery because his entire arm was now hugging my waist, his hand sitting on my hip in a proprietary manner. Like I was his.
It was easy to pretend I belonged to him. We’d spent every single night together for the last week. We woke up next to each other. We kissed goodbye in the morning andhello in the evening and fell asleep entwined in each other’s arms.
“Dash!”
We turned at the sound of a male voice to see a guy wearing a white chef’s coat striding toward us, a grin on his face. He was handsome and familiar—I’d seen him on Lick My Plate—thick dark hair, full mouth, strong jaw.
“Gianni, hey.” Dash let go of me and the two men hugged in the way guys do, with quick thumps on the back. “Good to see you. Been a while.” He gestured to me. “This is Ari DeLuca.”
Gianni held out a hand. “Nice to meet you. I hear you might be interested in a food truck.”
I laughed nervously. “Possibly. It’s very nice to meet you too. I’ve heard wonderful things about Etoile.”
“Thanks for getting us in,” Dash added.
“Anytime. I hope you enjoy it.” Gianni stood with his hands on his hips. “So should we take a look at the truck before you eat?”
“Yes,” Dash said. “Lead the way.”
His hand returned to my back as we followed Gianni outside.
“So have you thought more about it yet?” Dash’s grin was mischievous across the table, candlelight flickering in his eyes.
“Dash! It’s only been twenty minutes since the last time you asked.”
“That interior is fucking incredible.”
“It is.” The truck’s custom kitchen was a dream—allstainless interior, fridge and freezer, 24-inch griddle, two fryers, four burners with oven, refrigerated prep table, four sinks, and six-foot concession window—not to mention the exterior speakers and Bluetooth sound system.
“The price is good too.”
“I still can’t afford it.” The asking price was just over forty thousand.
“I can.”
I took another bite of my ratatouille, pinning him with a stare. “No.”
“Why won’t you let me invest in you?”
Because it will tie me to you for years to come.“Aside from not wanting to take your money, I cannot see my parents getting on board.”
Underneath the table, he nudged my foot with his. “You can’t see them where, in your crystal ball? Maybe they’ll surprise you.”
“My parents never surprise me.”
