Page 30 of Pretty Relentless

“Happy New Year to you too,” she replies with a pleasant smile. “Dining in?”

The door opens behind me, but I don’t turn around. “No, thank you. I’d like to place an order to go.”

“Miss Rutledge!”

I spin around at the familiar voice and grin when I see Annabelle standing there. Of course, she’s with her father, who looks gorgeous in a pair of well-worn blue jeans and a beat-up brown leather coat. His hazel eyes are locked on me, and he’s wearing a soft, familiar smile on his lips. “Happy New Year, Annabelle,” I say when I’ve finally stopped ogling her dad and find my voice.

“Happy New Year. Are you having pizza too?”

“I was just getting ready to place an order.”

Her brown eyes light up. “Will you join us? I got this new book for Christmas, and we can talk about it!” she begs, taking a step forward and holding up her book.

“Oh, I don’t know—” I start but am cut off.

“Please, Miss Rutledge?”

I open my mouth to decline her invitation when Gavin moves closer. “We’d love it if you’d join us for lunch.”

I want to pass, especially with a restaurant full of patrons who would love nothing more than to tell someone else about me dining with Gavin and Annabelle, but there’s something in his eyes that stops the words on my lips. It’s a mixture of hope and anticipation, and frankly, I don’t want to say no.

“All right,” I say, watching as shock registers on his face. It’s as if he didn’t expect me to actually accept the invitation.

Personally, I wasn’t expecting it either.

Annabelle reaches for my hand and guides me toward the dining room. Glancing over at Lanita, I offer a quick, “I guess I’ll be dining in today.”

She gives me a big smile and grabs menus. “Great. Take whatever’s open,” she instructs, following behind us as we enter the main dining area.

Annabelle picks the only available booth and slides into one side. “Will you sit with me, Miss Rutledge?”

“I will.” That’s a much better idea than sharing a booth bench with her father. The rumors would fly faster than the time Mayor Abbott’s car “broke down” in front of Shelly Mathers’s house the night his wife was away at some book club retreat.

We all slip off our coats and set them aside as Lanita brings the menus and silverware. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Iced tea,” Annabelle requests.

Gavin waves to me, indicating I should order next, so I reply, “I’ll have the same.”

“Make it three, please.”

Lanita nods. “Coming right up.”

“Dad, we better get extra breadsticks,” Annabelle says, passing out napkins from the holder.

“You’re probably right,” he replies, offering me a wink.

“Breadsticks are my favorite. Do you like them?” she asks, placing her book in front of her.

“I do, but I don’t usually get them.”

She seems horrified by this revelation. “What? Why?”

I shrug. “When you get older, you’ll understand. I usually try to get a salad instead of breadsticks.”

Annabelle huffs. “My mom says the same thing, but I’m never trading breadsticks for salad. Breadsticks are life. My butt’s just going to have to be big.”

I can’t help but giggle as Gavin narrows his eyes. “You don’t have to worry about watching what you eat for a while.”

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