Inheritance (The Lost Bride Trilogy, #1)(75)

“Is that right? I’ve never met a grilled cheese master.”

She leaned forward. “Tell me more.”

“Pepper jack cheese, sourdough bread, and chili oil. You’ll thank me later.”

After Ian took their order, she sat back, picked up her wine. “So, lawyer, grilled cheese master, teenage rocker. What else should I know? How about where you studied law?”

“Cambridge.”

On a laugh, she leaned forward again. “You went to Harvard Law?”

“Guilty.”

“I dated a Harvard Law student once for about five minutes. It wasn’t you, was it?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember.”

“I didn’t think so, because he was full of himself. Which is why the five-minute relationship. If you were full of yourself, you’d have found a way to work in Harvard the first time we met.”

“I dated an artist once. It was more like ten minutes. Inexplicable abstracts and a weird obsession with Virginia Woolf.”

“Definitely wasn’t me. I’m more thrillers, fantasy, and a side of romance where the bad guys get what’s coming to them, the world is saved, and love eventually conquers. I like the spooky, too, but I’m giving that a pass for now. Considering.”

“Probably a good idea. You said you fell asleep reading last night. What were you reading?”

“It wasn’t the book’s fault. We’ll lay it on a long workday and the Gold Room. Rabbit Hole—new author to me. I’ve only just started, but it’s really good.”

“I just read it last week. It’s going to get even better.”

They talked books and ate lobster, segued into movies as Sonya became a passionate fan of the jalape?o hush puppy.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such an easy, wide-ranging conversation with a man over a meal.

“That was amazing. Now I have to work out tomorrow, which is totally on you.”

“You’re all right going down to the gym?”

“It’s my house. She’s got one room, and that’s temporary. But it’s my house. I’m thinking of asking Cleo to talk to her grandmother about a juju or mojo or whatever the hell it is.”

“Is that a serious thing?”

“Cleo’s grandmother’s serious about it. I met her when we spent an amazing spring break in New Orleans. She’s fascinating, and spooky. Fascinatingly spooky, not scary spooky. She read my palm, my cards. Tarot.”

“What did your future hold?”

“Some of it’s more a reading into who you are and what you’re looking for. She was pretty damn accurate, but I put that down to her reading people well, and knowing me through Cleo. Then you get to meeting the tall, dark stranger or going on a long sea voyage. And…”

She trailed off as Ian came back with dessert menus.

Pulling herself out of the memory, she smiled at him. “Just where would I put it?”

Between the two of them, they talked her into a cappuccino and the signature house bread pudding.

“And?” Trey prompted. “You thought of something before.”

“It’s strange. I haven’t thought of any of it for years. She said I’d face a betrayal, which would hurt but provide a fortunate escape and open opportunities. I’d be wise to take both. And that I’d make my home in a house of history and secrets overlooking the sea.”

She picked up her water glass. “Looks like she was pretty damn accurate on that part, too. Spooky,” she repeated, and drank. “I never believed any of it; any of the, well, spooky stuff before I came here.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Yet to be determined.” She shrugged. “Or partially. I love that house, Trey. Like Yoda, it was love at first sight. Which I also didn’t believe in before I saw the house or Yoda.”

“Practicality or cynicism?”

“Maybe a little of both. And I insist on maintaining at least some of both.”

“That and your resiliency will help you deal with what’s in the house.”

Charmed, simply charmed, she shook her head. “You’re not even the tiniest bit, we’ll say cynical, about the manor.”

“I grew up with it, and to some extent in it. You’ve had about a month.”

He glanced over as a woman with short, boldly red hair arrowed toward their table. The white chef’s coat gave her away.

“Interrupting. Mind?” She snugged into the booth beside Sonya. “Bree Marshall.”

“Sonya MacTavish. Trey told me you were a wonderful chef. He didn’t say you were a goddess in the kitchen.”

“I like you. I like her,” she said to Trey.

Ian brought the coffee and dessert.

“Can I get you something, Chef?”

“No, I’m only on a short break. We’re winding down, thank Christ and all his followers. I just need Trey for one quick minute. It’s not private. Eat,” she added, and waved at the dessert plates. “Manny,” she said to Trey.

“Manny? What about him? I had a beer with him a week or so ago. He’s fine, right?”

“Sure. Right. Manny and me.”

“Manny and you what? Oh.” Now Trey sat back. “When did this happen?”