“Hi, Cynthia,” Emmy said, embracing her. Then she turned to Gwen. “This is Gwen. Gwen, this Cynthia.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cynthia said, holding out a rather limp hand.
Gwen’s brows quirked as she shook Cynthia’s hand. Gwen hadn’t even looked at Seth, but he knew what she was thinking. This is your ex-girlfriend?
He wanted everyone to leave the kitchen so he could explain to Gwen.
“Nice to meet you as well,” Gwen said in a carefully polite voice.
Seth exhaled, pulled his gaze from her so he wouldn’t be caught staring. He knew his sister was watching him like a hawk, so he tried to keep his expression unaffected by the appearance of Gwen. “Glad you made it,” he told Gwen.
And then her blue eyes were on him, and Seth felt suddenly too warm, despite the air conditioning.
Her red lips curled into a smile, and her blue gaze seemed to fire a dozen silent questions at him. She moved toward the counter, and asked, “Can I take out these platters?”
It took Seth a second to answer, and he had to clear his throat. “Uh, yeah, that would be great. There are several dips in the fridge too.”
“I’m on it,” Gwen said in a cheerful tone. She picked up the fruit platter closest to her. “Thanks for picking me up, Emmy. It was nice to meet you as well.” Then Gwen turned and moved through the kitchen toward the back doors—she was already familiar with the layout of the house and yard from her tour, so Seth didn’t need to give her directions.
It seemed that his sister picked up on that. Emmy’s brows lifted ever so slightly, and she gave Seth another knowing look, pursing her lips as if she couldn’t wait to drill him with questions. But Cynthia was talking to Emmy, so Emmy thankfully took her focus off Seth.
“Tell me about Jed,” Cynthia said. “Your parents told my parents that you two are spending a lot of time together.”
“He’s great,” Emmy said. “Want to meet him?”
“Of course.” Cynthia followed Emmy out of the room, but not before Emmy cast a look over her shoulder to Seth that said, We need to talk!
Moments later, Gwen came back into the kitchen and reached for one of the veggie platters.
“Wait.” Seth opened the fridge and pulled out the dips. He began to put in the miniature serving spoons, and Gwen set the dip bowls in the center of the platters.
“From the restaurant?” she asked.
Seth met her gaze. “How’d you guess?”
“Only Pierre slices the black olives,” she said with a smirk. “I prefer them whole.”
“Me too.” A beat passed, and Seth said, “Thanks for coming tonight. And sorry about your car. Did it overheat, or is it something worse?”
“It’s just a hot day,” Gwen said, touching her neck, and Seth’s gaze shifted with her movement.
“Yeah, it is hot.” Why were they talking about the weather? That was the last thing he wanted to speak about with her.
“Marge is temperamental, that’s all.” Gwen continued to gaze at him. She seemed to be looking right into his soul and trying to figure him out. It was kind of uncanny.
“Why did you name her Marge?”
Gwen shrugged. “No particular reason. It just fit her.”
Seth smiled. “It does seem to fit her.”
“She’s pretty,” Gwen said.
“Marge?” Seth wasn’t sure he’d describe the old car that way.
“No, Cynthia.”
Seth blinked. What did it mean when the woman you wanted to ask out told you she thought your ex-girlfriend was pretty? Cynthia was pretty. But Gwen was real, and that made her beautiful. “Cynthia is one of those women who puts a lot of effort into her appearance,” he said. “I think everyone should just be themselves.”
Gwen gave him a searching look. “It looks like we agree on two things. Olives and being yourself.”
Seth nodded. “Three things.”
“What’s the third thing?”
“Come here, I want you to taste something.” Seth opened the fridge and pulled out a tray full of miniature crème brûlées.
“You made those?” Gwen moved closer and picked up one of the small dishes. “What’s with the red sugar on top?”
“Watch.” He used a lighter to light the sugar on fire. It burned out within seconds, creating a small puff of red smoke.
“That’s pretty cool.” Gwen said.
“Here, see if you like it.” He handed her a spoon, then watched as she dipped the spoon in the dessert and took a bite.
Gwen closed her eyes, and that’s when he saw that she had blue sparkles on her eyelids.
“This is delicious.” She opened her eyes. “Seth, you’re really talented.”
He’d been complimented by others before, but Gwen’s words lodged themselves into his chest. He wished that everyone would find another place to celebrate the Fourth of July and leave him and Gwen in the kitchen alone.
“So, do we agree on three things?” he prompted.
Gwen took another bite of the crème brûlée, then grinned. “Definitely.”
Okay, so was eating crème brûlée made by your boss considered flirting? Because that’s what Gwen felt like she was doing. Flirting. Crossing the line. Letting herself be flattered and charmed by Seth Owens. If a warning light was to go off, it would be giant, red, and flashing.
Maybe it was seeing his ex-girlfriend Cynthia in that tight blue dress of hers that made Gwen feel like she wanted to capture and keep Seth’s attention. She didn’t take the time to analyze her motivations, but if Seth wanted her to try his dessert, she was going to try it.
“So . . . tell me again why your parents had a problem with you training as a chef,” she said, leaning against the counter after taking her third bite of the crème brûlée. “I mean, I don’t have an issue with it.”
Seth laughed. “I can see that. By the way, it’s all yours.” He pointed at the dessert she was pretty much inhaling.
Then he winked at her and turned to open the fridge.
He’s flirting back. Definitely flirting. In fact, if Gwen was to go by what Alicia said, he was interested in her. Even though Gwen might feel flattered right now, she knew Seth was still her boss, he was still the son of millionaires, and although he might flirt with or even date someone like her, he’d never be interested in her long-term. And to be honest, Gwen could never really date someone like Seth. It would be like backtracking four years and giving into her parents’ hopes and dreams. The next thing she knew, she’d be enrolled at Stanford again.
Not for her at all.
“My mom wasn’t necessarily against it.” Seth opened a cupboard and pulled out empty sauce bottles. “My dad was okay with it as a hobby . . . for example, a Fourth of July barbeque . . . but not as a profession.”
Gwen set down the bowl of dessert before she put herself into a sugar coma. “What’s your favorite thing to make?”
Seth twisted off the caps of the sauce bottles, and Gwen reached for a couple of them to help. “Desserts,” he said. “I like to change them up and experiment a little. Take an old stand-by and add something new.”
She eyed the rows of fresh-baked pretzel buns and the simmering barbeque sauce. “I’d say you’re pretty good at everything.”
“Timing and fresh ingredients is the key to whatever you want to bake or cook.”
“I think there’s a little more to it than that,” she said. “I mean, you have to be organized, which I was not expecting you to be . . . at least to this extent.”
Seth quirked a brow.
“It’s a compliment.”
He paused, his hazel eyes completely focusing on her. “Are you going soft on me, Gwen?”
Hearing him say her name in that low voice of his sent a rush of bumps along her arms. “I’m giving you a bit of a break tonight, since I’m at your house.” She picked up one of the veggie trays to carry outside.
“So, tomorrow it’s business as usual?”
Gwen laughed and carried the
tray to the back doors. It would be good to be outside for a few minutes, because she was on the verge of blushing.
She wasn’t surprised that the backyard was gorgeous in the daylight, just as it had been the other night. Huge planters of flowers lined the deck, and soft music played from a massive speaker. The outdoor tables were set with china—for a barbeque, no less.
She continued to the serving table where she’d already put the fruit platters. A woman who had to be Seth’s mother was speaking to the bartender on the other side of the serving table. Her blonde hair was scooped into a twist, and diamond earrings and a necklace sparkled against her skin, catching the light from the setting sun. She laughed at something the bartender said. Then she spotted Gwen.
“Hello?” his mother said. “Are you Gwen?”
“I am.” Gwen set down the veggie tray and brushed her hands off, even though she didn’t have anything on them. But Seth’s mom didn’t make a move to shake her hand.
“Seth told us he had help tonight,” his mom said. “I’m glad he let at least one person come from the restaurant. I want him to be able to enjoy the night and not be in the kitchen the whole time.” The words might have been disparaging, but she spoke in an affectionate tone.
Despite herself, Gwen found that she kind of liked that about the woman.
“Oh, there’s my husband,” she said. “You’ll have to meet him, too.”
“Whom do I have to meet?” a man said behind Gwen.
She turned, her heart thudding in anticipation of meeting Mr. Owens. She’d seen him from a distance a few times at the restaurant, but they had never actually met.
He gave her a cursory look, his expression unreadable. He was an older version of Seth, although Seth was taller, and Mr. Owens’ eyes didn’t have the friendly humor that Gwen appreciated in Seth’s gaze.
“This is Gwen,” Mrs. Owens said. “From the restaurant. She’s here to help Seth tonight.”
Mr. Owens shook his head. “We should have had it catered. Emmy will want to spend time with her brother, and Cynthia’s whole family is here. Yet our son is playing in the kitchen, and he’s got Dave on the barbeque.”
Gwen didn’t know if she felt hot with embarrassment or cold with offense for Seth.
“Dear,” Mrs. Owens said, patting her husband’s arm. “The food is wonderful, and everyone will be delighted with Seth’s contributions. Once the food is served, he’ll be mingling with everyone.”
Mr. Owens tightened his jaw but didn’t argue further with his wife.
Gwen guessed it was an old argument. She busied herself with arranging the fruit and veggie dips that went with the platters. As soon as she could, she’d make her escape back into the house. But right now, the Owens’s were in her direct path between the serving table and the house.
“I came out here to tell you that the Feltons have arrived,” Mr. Owens continued, walking a few paces away with his wife. “I don’t care how much they try to butter us up this evening, we’re not giving them the bid on the Sacramento hotel unless they meet all of our requirements and come in under the Colemans’ bid.”
“Yes, well, we should leave any business talk for the boardroom, anyway.” Mrs. Owens’ tone was light and soothing, but Gwen guessed the woman was frustrated. “I’ll be sure to keep our conversations casual.”
“Well, hello!” someone called out.
Gwen glanced up to see a couple coming around the side of the yard. They looked like they could model for the next cover of Fortune magazine. Gwen used the distraction to hurry past the Owens’s and return to the kitchen.
She found Seth filling up the last sauce bottle. He smiled when he looked up to see her come in. Gwen silently commanded her heart to calm down a few notches. “More guests are arriving,” she said, trying to keep her conversation with Seth neutral. She didn’t want to return to their flirting. Gwen’s life was complicated enough without being drawn into Seth’s world of mergers, deals, controlling parents, and more money than any person should ever see in their lifetime.
“Are you okay?” Seth asked.
She looked over at him. Had she let her expression reveal too much? “I’m great. I just met your parents.”
Seth chuckled. “That’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one. Did my dad ask you what your qualifications were for assisting me?” He wiped his hands and walked toward her.
“No, he didn’t,” Gwen said. “I guess I got off easy?”
Seth stopped a couple of feet in front of her so that she had to look up to meet his gaze. “You did,” he said.
How did his eyes seem to draw her in? Their amused gleam made her want to smile along with him. Her stomach felt all fluttery at his nearness, but maybe it was just a sugar rush from the crème brûlée. She stepped back and snatched up two of the sauce bottles. “Table?”
“My cousin David should be out on the grill by now,” he said. “Take two of the bottles to him. The rest can go on the serving table.” Seth paused. “My parents didn’t give you a hard time, did they?”
“Nope,” she said. “Your dad seemed more concerned about some of the guests who’d just arrived—the Felters?”
“The Feltons,” Seth replied. “Yeah, I won’t blame you if you accidentally spill something on them.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
Seth opened his mouth to respond, when a woman’s voice interrupted.
“Oh, here he is.”
Gwen didn’t need to turn around to know that it was Cynthia. Gwen moved past Seth, grabbed a third sauce bottle, and headed out of the kitchen as a conversation buzzed between Cynthia, Seth, and what must be her parents. All the “great to see you” and “how have you been” was something Gwen didn’t need to be a part of. She hadn’t left the kitchen fast enough, though, because she saw the unmistakable gaze of interest in Cynthia’s heavily lashed eyes. Seth might claim that things were over between them, but it was clear that Cynthia would be up for reuniting.
Outside again, Gwen didn’t know where she’d rather be—in the beautiful backyard as more and more guests arrived, looking like they’d stepped out of a Chanel catalog, or in the kitchen being bombarded by all things Seth and watching him talk to his ex.
Gwen could only hope the evening would go quickly. She gave a nod or smile to those whom she passed on her way to the serving table. She set down the sauce bottles, then looked for the grill. It didn’t take long to spot it, because the scent of barbecuing meat had permeated the air.
She headed toward the massive grill on another level of the deck, and a dark-haired man who looked to be around thirty turned as she approached. Although he was manning the grill, he was wearing what looked to be expensive slacks and a short-sleeved dress shirt, probably Gucci or Armani.
“You must be Gwen,” he said. “I’m Dave.” He stuck out his hand, and Gwen set down the sauce on the barbeque extension to shake his hand.
His hands were huge, and Gwen suspected he was into lifting weights, by the size of his neck and arms. He was also checking her out, a little too thoroughly for Gwen’s taste.
Gwen raised a brow. “Finished?”
Dave grinned. “I like you already. You’re not in a relationship, are you? Engaged? Married?”
“Uh, no.” Gwen narrowed her eyes as she drew her hand away. “Why are you asking?”
Dave shrugged one of his massive shoulders. “Oh, just wondering why Seth told me to keep my hands to myself around you.”
“Do you have a habit of randomly touching strangers?”
Dave bellowed out a laugh that drew attention from some of the guests. “It’s an expression, sweetheart.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice.
Gwen held her ground, curious, yet repelled at the same time.
“I think it’s interesting that my cousin is marking his territory when it comes to you.” Dave’s blue eyes watched her closely.
She exhaled. This guy talked in riddles. He was also perspiring quite a bit. “Another ‘expression�
�?”
Dave grinned. “It’s whatever you want it to be. In fact, why don’t you call me when things don’t work out with Seth-boy?” His gaze dipped, then returned to her face.
Gwen had the sudden urge to slap this man. But there already seemed to be enough drama going on as far as she was concerned. “Here’s an expression for you, Dave,” she said in a quiet tone. “There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I’d ever call you.”
His laughter followed her as she walked back to the house. She hoped that Cynthia and her family were out of the kitchen. If not, she’d make a detour to the bathroom.
But as she rounded the corner leading to the kitchen, she found it completely empty. Seth must have taken out the rest of the food, since the counters were almost bare.
Gwen grabbed a cold water bottle from the fridge and guzzled most of it down. She could do this. She looked at the ornate kitchen clock on the wall . . . five hours. Six, tops.
Seth caught glimpses of Gwen throughout the night, and they shared some brief conversations, mostly about refilling this or that, or telling the bartender to stop mixing drinks for Dave. His cousin had had way too much and was about ready to get punched out, and that would be quite a feat, since the guy was at least twice as strong as Seth. Not that he couldn’t hold his own, but Seth didn’t spend three hours a day in the gym.
Gwen was deliberately avoiding Dave, and Seth had finally gotten out of her what Dave had said to her. She’d laughed it off, but Seth still didn’t like any of the insinuations Dave had made. Yet . . . that wasn’t the only problem of the night. His father had also had a few drinks too many, which was unusual for him, and Seth had overheard some cutting remarks. Not about the food—his dad could admit that it was all delicious—but about how “my son likes to throw away the good things staring him in the face. I offered him the job as assistant manager of the resort, but he wants to play kitchen manager. And just look at his ex-girlfriend. What man in his right mind would break things off with her?”’
Waiting for You_Pine Valley Page 7
