Page 58 of The Fine Art of Faking It
Eden straightened her shoulders so defensively her neck cracked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Why in the hell would that piss you off?” Davis countered.
She shrugged it off and sipped. “Sorry. Reflex. I’m used to being pissed off at everything that comes out of your mouth. Please elaborate, and I promise not to bite your head off.”
“Depending on what our appetizer is, that might still be a danger,” Davis said, raising his glass to hers.
Eden squashed the eyeroll.
He laughed softly, and the sound of it rolled through her belly.
“I only meant that you put a lot of effort into everything you do. You’re not just an innkeeper. You go out of your way to find out what a visitor’s favorite chocolate is and then leave it on their pillow. You tailor your snacks to guest preferences. You hand draw maps of Blue Moon for guests and circle the places you think they’ll really enjoy.”
“That’s just being a good businessperson,” Eden argued. “You do the same thing with the winery. You’re constantly listening and adjusting and learning so you can be better.”
He drummed his fingers on the table cloth. “I like that you’re as obsessed with work as I am.”
She flushed, the compliment meaning more to her than any comment on her appearance. The Lunar Inn was her life. She’d breathed life into it and spent every waking moment trying to ensure every guest had the best possible experience. “I have a lot to prove,” she admitted, thinking back to those five minutes that had defined her to an entire town.
“Believe it or not, I know how you feel. The only way my father was willing to relinquish control of the winery was by being forced into it with a heart attack. I want to prove to him that I am capable of not just matching his success, but taking our business to the next level.”
“That might be something I find attractive in you, too,” she admitted. “Your dedication to work. A lot of people just go to work and come home and forget about it until the next morning. You and me? We live it.”
Davis clutched at his chest. “Did Eden Moody just admit to finding me attractive?”
She did roll her eyes now. “Don’t let it go to your head, Gates.”
He leaned in to her, her body uncomfortably aware of the proximity of his mouth. And she thought he might kiss her. And it might mean something besides revenge and painting a pretty picture for their audience. Her lips parted, eyes locking in on his mouth. She could feel the heat from his body as it caressed her face.
“Well, don’t you two look gorgeous together?” Summer and Carter Pierce stopped next to their table.
Eden jumped back against the booth in flustered surprise.
Speaking of gorgeous, the Pierces were a stunning blend of Summer’s urban chic and Carter’s rough-around-the-edges, earthy sex appeal. Carter’s arm was slung possessively around his wife’s slim shoulders.
“Date night?” Eden asked.
“Jax lost a bet and had to take the twins for the night,” Carter said with a quick grin under his thick beard.
Carter and Summer were parents to two-year-old twins, who were as cute as they were mischievous.
Summer slid into the booth across from them tugging Carter with her. “Listen. I just wanted to say how happy I am for you guys. I know there’s been a lot of bad blood between your families over the years, and it’s really beautiful to see you two so happy.”
“And sorry for crashing your dinner,” Carter added wryly.
Summer wrinkled her pert nose at him and cuddled into his side. “As an old married lady, it just makes me so happy to see you two together. I think the whole town has been waiting for this for a long time. So, what are you guys doing for Thanksgiving?”
Eden blinked. She knew Summer well enough. The woman had been a Mooner for three years and had apparently embraced the nosy neighbor residency requirement. She was stylish and smart and head over heels in love with Carter. Eden found it hard to believe that Summer Pierce, let alone the entire town of Blue Moon, could be so invested in this fake relationship.
Rupert appeared before Eden or Davis could respond and dropped off three bowls of minestrone soup.
Eden and Davis shared an eyeroll. “Look, dear. Our appetizer,” Eden laughed.
“He was our waiter, too,” Carter told them. “You might want to deliver your dinner order directly to the kitchen.”
Eden had just dipped her spoon into the soup when Summer spoke up again. “So, as I was saying, Thanksgiving?”
“Oh, well. My parents are out of town,” Eden began.
