Page 83 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“You certainly are,” Davis agreed behind her. She jumped rapping her elbow on the door and yelping. “Ouch! I was just, um… hi.”
“Hi, yourself,” he said, giving her an admiring look. He looked too good for ice cream. A black wool coat hung open over designer jeans and a black sweater and white Oxford. He looked preppy and delicious.
“When did you stop dressing like a hippie?” Eden blurted out as his hand settled at her waist and he leaned in for a soft kiss on her cheek. The change in him when he’d come home from the West Coast had been profound, at least on the surface.
“Right around the time when I realized no one would want to buy wine from or go out on a date with a guy in a handknit poncho,” Davis quipped. He slid her hand into his and led the way to the lobby.
“Goodnight, Sunny,” Eden called.
The pretty blonde was rolling silverware into napkins at the front desk and singing along to a pop song playing on her phone.
“Night, you two! Have fun,” she winked flirtatiously.
“Seriously,” Eden said when they were buckled into her car, Davis behind the wheel.
“I’m being serious. I left Blue Moon at eighteen and landed in a different world. Sure, there were hippies out there. I spent some memorable weekends in Berkeley. But for the most part I was skulking around wineries and learning the business. People aren’t as forgiving of shaggy hair and rumpled clothes in that arena. And once I put on my first suit, it just felt good. I felt like I could be taken seriously,” he admitted.
“Did you lose any other pieces of Blue Moon out there?” Eden asked, curious about the years he’d been missing from her life.
She’d sped through a degree in hospitality management all the while begging Aunt Nell to turn over the keys to the old monstrosity of a mansion she left vacant for six months every year when she traveled.
“A few. But I missed this place.”
“You didn’t visit,” Eden pointed out, realizing too late that meant she’d noticed his absence.
He kept his eyes on the dark road ahead. “My parents felt it was best if I stayed in California and soaked up as much of the business as I could. I got winery jobs every summer and landed an internship and then a job with a vineyard in Napa.”
“Your parents,” Eden said, keying into his mention. “We’re polar opposites there. I spent my entire high school and college career trying to tear myself away from my parents. It seems like you’ve spent your life being the good son.”
Davis steered the car toward town, his hand reaching down to take hers. She didn’t pull away even though part of her was shouting “fake relationship” loud enough to make her ears ring.
“My dad’s heart attack has a lot to do with compliance. He had two actually,” Davis said.
Eden shot him a glance. “I didn’t know that.”
“The first was when I was young. Four or so? I just remember him being very sick and my mother insisting that we not do anything that would upset him. He’s always been tightly wound. It just became my job to keep him from exploding.”
Eden bit her lip and considered. She’d had the freedom to be a rebel, even at times an asshole. Maybe Davis had grown up so “good” because he’d had to. “Give him what he wants to keep him happy?” she asked.
“Sounds like bad parenting advice for a tantrum-throwing toddler,” Davis joked.
“If you spend all your time making your dad happy, when do you get what you want?”
“Who says I don’t already have it?” he asked. He slid the car into a space on the opposite end of the town square from the movie theater. McCafferty’s Farm Supply loomed in front of them. Despite the weather, Blue Moon’s downtown was bustling. People wrapped in hand-knit rainbow scarves and brightly colored winter coats browsed store windows and warmed themselves inside the town’s many shops.
“I am sorry about your father.” She squeezed his fingers a little tighter. “I know I’m a Moody and I’m supposed to celebrate Gates’ traumas. But I’m still sorry. And for what it’s worth. I kind of liked the ponchos. Hippie Davis was pretty cute.”
He gave her one of those underwear singing smiles. “Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll dig one out later?”
They laughed together and Eden marveled at the easy intimacy.
“Coffee, meeting, then ice cream?” Davis suggested.
She approved his priorities. “Perfect.” He reclaimed her hand on the sidewalk, and together they weaved in and out of couples and families braving the chill.
They looped around One Love Park, heading in the direction of Overly Caffeinated when Eden came to a sudden stop.
“Get your hot apple cider!” Ellery called to the foot traffic in the park from a makeshift stand under a banner that said Support Your Local Beautification Committee. She wore a glossy black vinyl coat, black jeans, and a mile-long black and gray scarf. Her husband, Mason, was dressed like a regular person in a heavy winter coat and a ski cap. He took his mittens off every time he needed to count out change.
