Page 35 of Love to Hate You

That was it, just “oh my,”but Summer reacted as if she’d just announced that her nonna had arisen from the dead.

“Yeah, oh my,” Randy said, in a WTF tone directed at Wes.

“What is your heritage, dear?” Cecilia asked Wes.

“Half Scottish and half Italian.”

“Italian, you say. Isn’t that interesting, Summer?”

“Very interesting,” Autumn chimed in.

Summer looked as if she wanted to curl up and die, and Wes felt a protectiveness wash over him. He didn’t mind putting her on the spot, pushing her buttons, but he didn’t like it when other people did. Even if they were her family.

He needed to erase that discomfort from her face—immediately. So he moved his leg so that it bumped her thigh. Instead of pulling away, she actually swayed closer to him, and then to his utter surprise she took his hand under the table.

“What’s interesting is that nearly everyone finished their plates,” Wes said. “I think it’s time for a vote. Push forward the plate you think is superior.”

Everyone glanced at the others while Summer nervously squeezed his hand—hard. Clearly, there was more to this than just besting him. Coming out the winner went deeper than a bet for her. Summer was a people-pleaser to her core, and wanted desperately to have her family on her side. Wes almost said that they should call off the bet, but then Frank made the first move, pushing his daughter’s dish forward. Wes was surprised when Cecilia pushed his forward.

One by one they went around the table until it was three to three, then Summer pushed her plate forward and glared at him.

“A tie? This can’t end on a tie,” she said. “There has to be a winner.”

“Why, dear?” Blanche asked. “Does the loser do the dishes?”

“Oh, my senses are telling me there’s more at stake than a dirty kitchen,” Cecilia said.

“I don’t know,” Giuseppe said. “We all know what the kitchen looks like after Summer’s been in there.”

“Pig Pen,” her family said in unison, and there it flashed again. That same look she’d given him earlier in the kitchen when he’d poked fun at her cooking style.

She went from smiling to shutters closed in no time flat. Being called out for her free-spirited nature clearly upset her. But it was as if everyone else in the room was too busy laughing at the inside joke to realize that it was leaving Summer on the outside.

Before someone could say anything else to upset her, he said, “Actually, we have a winner.”

Every expression in the room went wide with surprise when he cast his vote and pushed Summer’s bowl forward.

“You’re voting for me?”

“It is the superior dish,” he said quietly. “I might hate to lose but not as much as I hate to lie. Congratulations.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected. For her to burst into song and dance at his early departure? But it sure as hell wasn’t a frown. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes.” He wiped his lips with his napkin and stood. “Yes, I do. As for our deal—”

“Forget the bet. Let’s just call it a tie.”

“A bet is a bet, love.”

“Speaking of love,” Randy interrupted. “I have an announcement. Well, more of a gift.”

Wes’s stomach bottomed out. Less than a few hours ago his brother had promised to take things slow and now he was presenting a small jewelry-shaped box like it was the Crown Jewels. Jesus, this couldn’t be happening. Summer was right—their siblings were losing their minds.

“It’s not a ring,” he said, and thank Jesus. “But it’s a promise of sorts.”

Autumn squealed with delight as she took the gift like a lady who was used to getting jewelry-shaped boxes. It was hard to give her the benefit of the doubt when she was so easily accepting of what probably amounted to a fifty-thousand-dollar gift a month into a relationship. It just proved love had a price.

Autumn’s smile was as wide as Summer’s frown. It was like Pooh Bear with a pot of honey versus Eeyore with a prickly thistle.

---