Page 97 of Stirring Up Love
“We serve them smashed because Rhonda doesn’t like to peel them. C’mon. You don’t think he’s a little good to have around? The way I see it, the merger is a godsend for the restaurant. Not only do you get a chance to get out of Hawksburg again to start up the franchises, but Finn’s heaven sent. He could kick-start our food to the next level. I know you’re ready to stop treading water.”
Treading water. Heaven sent. Finn had been in town less than two days, and already people thought he was more valuable to Honey and Hickory than she was.
Lyndsey leaned both elbows on the prep table and turned to Simone, eyes bright. “Do you think he can teach me how to flambé? I’ve always wanted to try.”
Of course he could. He could teach them to fillet a halibut, or make a red wine reduction. But what did that matter at Honey and Hickory? “You planning to flambé a pork butt?”
Lyndsey shook her head.
“Then it’s a moot point. Finn’s here to help with the reception dinner—that’s it.”
Brows raised, Lyndsey said, “Heard.”
“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?”
At the sound of her sister’s voice, Simone spun from her haunt by the sanctuary entrance, where she’d been scrolling through Finn’s updates about the meal, including a thumbs-up selfie of him and the cooks, all with huge smiles. Great news, and it shouldn’t have made her feel left out. But it did.
Even though she still had doubts about leaving the reception food for her sister’s wedding in the hands of someone who, up until last week, had been her sworn enemy, she knew Finn could handle it. She’d watched him in the kitchen this morning. He kept everyone on track without barking orders. Guided when they needed it and stepped back when they didn’t.
And the man could cook. Could he ever. As long as Lyndsey didn’t set the kitchen on fire with her sudden interest in flames, they should be fine until Simone could sneak away after family photos. More than fine.
She turned off her phone, allowing herself precisely one more second to worry that her feelings for Finn were clouding her good judgment—one second ofWhat will you do if he doesn’t come through for you? And what will you do if hedoes?—then she turned her focus to her bigsister, the one whom she’d already let down this week by her fixation on the monster of a deal.
Today was about Alisha, and she wouldn’t let any of her own issues—relationship, career, or some confusing mix of both—spoil that. She hurried around the corner into the hallway, where her sister stood with one hand pressed against her lace-covered stomach, the other resting on the wall like she might keel over. “I’m freaking out. I can’t do this, Sim.”
Okay, so this was bad.
“We need to send everyone home,” Alisha said. “There’s been a huge mistake. I’m not cut out for marriage.” Above the plunging sweetheart neckline of her gown, her chest heaved. “I mean, I want to marry Quentin. Ireallywant to. But what if I screw this up?” She flapped her hands at her face, flushed despite a layer of subtle airbrushed makeup. “Why is it so hot in here? I’m gonna puke.”
“Sit.” Simone punctuated the word by pressing her hands into Alisha’s shoulders and backing her up toward a folding chair. Her sister sank into it and immediately dipped her head between her knees.
“Oh no, you don’t!” Simone grabbed her bare shoulders just in time, stopping her.
No way was she going to let her sister get makeup on the ivory skirt of her wedding gown. Alisha worked harder for her sculpted muscles than most bros hogging the weight racks, and while she said she didn’t do it for the looks, Simone had finally convinced her that if you’ve got it, flaunt it, at least on your wedding day. She’d steered her away from the ball gowns and into this mermaid-skirted confection of a dress.
With the dress out of imminent danger, she hooked a finger under Alisha’s chin and squatted down until they were face to face. “Sis.”
“Sis,” Alisha parroted, a line between her brows.
Hesitating, she almost called for Meg. Her sister’s best friend was the one with the amazing pep talks. Simone wasn’t even sure she believed in marriage. But she believed in Alisha.
“Ali,” she said, gathering her courage. “You are absolutely cut out for marriage. And not just marriage, but for marrying Quentin. The universe basically set you up. Put you on a collision course hundreds of millions of years ago.” Alisha huffed out a teary laugh. “And besides, if you leave that man at the altar, he’s going to need some next-level therapy.”
Alisha laughed again, blinking up at the ceiling. “I would never.”
“Okay. Well, then what are you worrying for?” She rubbed both hands down her sister’s arms, prickled with goose bumps despite her heated skin. “Quentin is your forever. And you’re his.”
Her sister sniffed, her voice quavering. “Like you believe in forevers.”
“I believe inyou.” Her mind shot back to the Grand Canyon. The eternity and immediacy all in one. To how her heart had kicked against her ribs the first time she and Finn met. To the confirmation in their kisses.
Did she believe in forever? A week ago, she would’ve said no. And now, the answer wavered, too murky to see. But she had absolute faith in her sister’s capacity for love and commitment. She and Quentin wanted forever; that’s what would make it theirs.
But first, she had to get her sister to the altar before her groom collapsed from sheer panic. Simone stuck out her hand behind her and snapped twice: “Margaret, water.”
“Aye, aye, Sarge.” Meg bolted forward from where she’d been whispering with Pops near a potted fern, both of them clearly concerned, and thrust out a water bottle.
Simone grabbed the bottle and brought it between them, lifting the straw to her sister’s mouth. Hydrating people was becoming an alarming habit. “Drink.”
