Sydney laughed again.
“Well, that’s both absolutely true and a very slick way to invite yourself back to his bed.”
Margot shook her head.
“No, no, I would have invited him back to mine, but his place was closer!”
And then they cracked up again.
* * *
“？‘HAVING DINNER?’ DID I really say ‘having dinner’ like that?” Luke asked Avery.
She nodded, a huge grin on her face.
“You did indeed.”
“Why would I ask that question? Like it’s not completely obvious they’re having dinner, when they’re at a restaurant table at seven thirty p.m.? What else would they be doing? Plotting to overthrow the government? Baking a cake? Watching a movie? What is wrong with me?”
Luke glanced over at Margot and Sydney’s table. They were diagonal from them in the restaurant, but Margot’s back was to him. From the look on Sydney’s face, though, they were having a great time.
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Avery said. “You were just a little taken aback, that’s all, by running into your boss outside the office.”
Luke glared at her.
“Okay, fine, you were a little taken aback by running into your boss who you slept with the night before she became your boss outside your office. Better?”
“And that same morning, too,” Luke muttered.
Avery made a face.
“Please, no more details. But you recovered from it quickly!”
He absolutely had not. He still wasn’t recovered from it, as a matter of fact. Because not only did he have to deal with the shock of seeing Margot, he’d also quickly recognized that Sydney had been the bartender at the Barrel that night. She must own it; that must be what Margot had meant by local restaurateur.
But also . . .
“When were you going to tell me that you and Margot were meeting for breakfast? I didn’t even know that you two knew each other,” he said. He tried to keep his voice casual, but by the way her eyes swooped up from the menu, he’d clearly failed.
“Everyone up here knows each other, you know that,” she said, a little defensively.
He just looked at her.
“Okay, fine, yes, I should have told you I actually know her, but I didn’t want you to be self-conscious or think I was going to say something to her. We’re not, like, friends or anything, but . . . friendly acquaintances, let’s say.”
“Friendly acquaintances who have breakfast together?”
“It’s a work breakfast! She wants to get some advice for that anniversary party Noble is going to have, get some event planning tips, that’s all.” Avery grinned again. “It’s too bad I don’t know Sydney well enough to bond with her over how both awkward and hilarious it was to be with two people who desperately want each other and are also desperately trying to pretend they don’t.”
Luke’s head shot up.
“What do you mean, ‘two people’？”
The waiter came over just then to take their drink order, while Luke stared at Avery. She glanced at the menu like she hadn’t just said something impossible to him.
“I’ll have the Brown Sauvignon Blanc. Luke?”
He very much did not want to make any decision about wine right now.
“Yeah, sure. Me, too.”
As soon as the waiter walked away, he asked again.
“What do you mean, ‘two people’？”
Avery rolled her eyes at him.
“Oh please, you’re not going to try to pretend that you aren’t still completely hot for Margot, are you? That was obvious to everyone in the restaurant.”
He didn’t think it had been that obvious, but he’d let it slide for the moment.
“No, I’m not saying that. What I’m saying is that it’s obvious to me that she doesn’t feel the same way.”
Avery laughed. He couldn’t believe she was laughing at him now. Actually, no, of course he could believe it.
“You are one of the smartest people—if not the smartest—I know, and yet you sit here and say something so silly to me? And with a straight face? Come on.” She took her glass of wine from the server while Luke stared at her. “That breakfast is going to be very awkward now, after Margot saw us on what very much looks like a date tonight.”
Luke looked over at Margot’s table. Neither she nor Sydney seemed to be interested in anything other than their own conversation.
“We clearly aren’t on a date, but Margot wouldn’t care about that. Margot could not care less about me, other than my value to Noble Family Vineyards. I mean sure, she likes me fine, but it’s all business with her. Other than a few tiny things—which are clearly just her being paranoid that someone will find out, or feeling awkward about this whole situation—she treats me like I’m any employee.”