The Bachelor Takes a Bride (Those Engaging Garretts!) (5 page)

“Which probably isn’t a bad thing, considering that you’re going to be carrying another baby in a few months.”

“Not for another eight months,” she reminded her sisters. “Which is why Rob and I agreed not to tell anyone about the pregnancy yet.”

“We’re not anyone,” Tristyn protested. “We’re your sisters.”

Lauryn picked up the glass of spring water infused with cucumber and lime, and sipped. “He’s a little worried about having another child so soon,” she admitted. “Since Kylie was born, I’ve only been working part-time hours at the Gallery, and business isn’t great at the Locker Room.”

The Gallery was Garrett Furniture’s showroom where Lauryn had been a sales supervisor prior to her maternity leave, and the Locker Room was her husband’s sporting goods store downtown.

“How are the renovations on the house coming along?” Jordyn asked, hoping the shift in topic might ease the furrow in her sister’s brow.

But Lauryn only sighed. “They’ve stalled,” she admitted. “Rob’s been spending so many hours at the store, it doesn’t seem fair to expect him to tackle another job when he gets home.”

What wasn’t fair—at least in Jordyn’s opinion—was that her sister was living in a dump. Tom and Susan Garrett had given their daughter and her husband a generous cash gift for their wedding, with the understanding that the money would be used for a down payment on a house.

Lauryn had found what she wanted in Ridgemount—a simple craftsman-style house with pretty gardens and a modest backyard. Rob had agreed that the house was perfect, but he’d been reluctant to tie up all of their money in real estate when he was trying to make a go of his business. Instead, he’d convinced her that they could buy a fixer-upper for much less money and use the additional funds to purchase inventory for his fledgling business.

It was a solid plan—except that the fledgling business was now apparently a struggling business, and he’d done almost nothing to fix up the fixer-upper. In fact, the only reason the nursery had been fixed up before Kylie was born was that Jordyn had enlisted the help of Andrew and Nathan—two of their cousins—to get it done.

“I like that color.” Lauryn gestured to the polish that was being applied to her sister’s toenails in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from another uncomfortable topic. “What’s it called?”

“Cherried Away.” Jordyn pushed her hair behind her ear to show off her new purchase. “It matches my earrings.”

“I wish I was brave enough to wear color like that,” Lauryn said, her gaze shifting to her own toes.

“French pedicures are classic,” Tristyn assured her.

“Says the woman sporting Buxom Bronze on her feet and a quaternary Celtic knot tattoo on her ass.”

Tristyn grinned. “I get a lot of compliments on that tattoo.”

“We don’t want to know,” Jordyn told her.

“Maybe
I
do,” Lauryn said. “I’m an old married woman who needs to get her thrills vicariously through her single sisters—and since you won’t share anything about Marco—”

“Because there’s nothing to share,” Jordyn insisted.

“At least, not yet,” Tristyn said.

Thankfully, they were called upstairs for their massages, saving Jordyn from having to deny what she really wanted.

* * *

An hour later, the sisters walked out into the late-afternoon sunshine, and Jordyn’s gaze shifted to the empty property across the street.

“Did either of you hear anything about a new restaurant opening in place of Mykonos?”

“There have been rumors floating around for a couple of months,” Tristyn confirmed. “Is that why Marco was in the neighborhood?”

“He didn’t say, but that’s my guess.”

“You didn’t ask him?” Lauryn wondered.

“I did. He was evasive.”

“We could use a good Italian place nearby,” Tristyn said. “We’ve got three cafés, two diners, a deli, bakery, vegetarian bistro, pizza place, Asian fusion cuisine, Southern barbecue and Indian buffet, but nowhere to get a good plate of pasta.”

“The Spaghetti House isn’t very far,” Jordyn reminded her.

“I said ‘
good
plate of pasta.’”

“All this talk of food is making me hungry,” Lauryn said.

“Me, too,” Jordyn agreed. “Let’s head over to Marg & Rita’s before it gets too busy and we have to wait for a table.”

But Tristyn shook her head. “It’s my turn to pick where we’re going for dinner,” she reminded her sisters.

Which was technically true. Their monthly “girls’ day” that usually involved the spa and/or shopping was always followed by dinner and drinks, and they alternated who got to choose the restaurant. Except that they’d become addicted to the signature drinks at Marg & Rita’s and hadn’t gone anywhere else in the past five months.

“We always go to Marg & Rita’s,” Lauryn said.

“Not always,” Tristyn denied.

Jordyn sighed. “Let me guess—you’re in the mood for Italian food tonight?”

“My mouth is watering for Valentino’s seven-layer lasagna.”

“I thought you were trying to cut down on carbs.”

Tristyn waved a hand dismissively. “That plan went out the window with the banana-pecan waffles I had this morning.”

“Now that you mention it, Italian sounds really good,” Lauryn agreed.

“I want fajitas,” Jordyn insisted, because she did. And because she wanted no part of whatever plan she suspected her sisters were concocting to throw her into Marco Palermo’s path.

“Sorry,” Tristyn said, not sounding sorry at all. “We can do Marg & Rita’s next month, when it’s your turn to pick. Although maybe by then, you’ll be craving Italian, too.”

Jordyn ignored the innuendo and crossed her fingers that Marco wouldn’t be working tonight.

Chapter Five

“Y
ou’re late,” Gemma said when Marco walked into the kitchen at Valentino’s just after four o’clock Saturday afternoon.

“And I might feel guilty about that if not for the fact that it’s supposed to be my night off.”

“You have a night off?” This came from Rocco, a fifteen-year-old neighborhood kid who was the grandson of one of Nonna’s oldest friends and one of their weekend dishwashers.

Marco cuffed him playfully in the back of the head. “It’s interesting how everyone likes to harp on the fact that I have no life outside of the restaurant but then, when I’m not supposed to be here, I get called in anyway.”

“You’re right,” Gemma agreed. “I’m sorry. But Rebecca’s roommate called to say that she was sick, and I could hear her retching in the background.”

Marco grimaced. “And what are the specials tonight?”

“The pasta is gnocchi with tomato-cream sauce and fresh basil, the pizza is grilled vegetable on a whole-wheat crust. Sydney is working the front of the dining room. You get the back.”

“Lucky me.”

“You only need to stay through the dinner rush,” Gemma promised. “After that you can get back to...whatever.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he told her, pretending that “whatever” was something other than a Yankees–Red Sox game on television.

He understood why she’d called. Within half an hour, both he and Sydney were beating a steady path from the kitchen to the dining room and back again. He’d forgotten how much he’d once enjoyed this interaction with the customers, hearing their rave reviews of the food, answering their inquiries about his grandparents and other family members. There was one screwup: the sous chef put fusilli instead of rotini with Mrs. DiCenzo’s chicken Parm, but the error was quickly rectified and the customer’s displeasure alleviated by a complimentary serving of tiramisu.

He was delivering two large pizzas to a family of six—regular Saturday-night customers—when he saw them walk in. Jordyn and her sisters. And, as usual when he saw the stunningly beautiful middle Garrett sister, his heart skipped a beat.

He held his breath as Gemma guided them through the dining room. She paused beside a booth near the front, then shook her head and continued along, gesturing to an identical booth at the back of the restaurant.

In his section.

In that instant, any annoyance that had lingered over being called in to work immediately and completely vanished.

* * *

Luck was not on Jordyn’s side.

Not only was Marco working, but he showed up at their table to take their order after they’d been seated by Gemma and given a few minutes to browse the menu.

“I thought you were a bartender, not a waiter,” Jordyn commented when he set the basket of warm bread sticks on the table.

“Obviously he’s a man of many talents,” Tristyn said, winking at him.

He winked back. “A prerequisite of working in a family business,” he confirmed, then proceeded to tell them about the daily specials. He gave them a few more minutes to decide while he went to fill their drink orders.

Tristyn folded her menu and set it aside. “I’m having the lasagna.”

“I’m having serious doubts about Jordyn’s sanity,” Lauryn said, turning to her middle sister. “Because if I were single and any man looked at me the way he looked at you, I’d snap him up—no questions asked.”

“Which part of ‘not interested’ don’t you understand?” Jordyn asked her sister.

“We understand it, we just don’t believe it,” Tristyn said.

Jordyn couldn’t blame her sisters for their skepticism. Because the truth was, she felt a tug of something whenever Marco was near; she’d just decided to ignore it. After Brian died, it had taken a long time for her heart to heal, and she wasn’t ready to risk it again. Not even for a sweet and sexy bartender with a dimple in his cheek and a twinkle in his eye that warmed the deepest parts of her.

“What’s on the vegetarian pizza?” Lauryn asked when Marco returned with their drinks.

“It has a thin whole-wheat crust topped with homemade pesto sauce, grated mozzarella cheese, thin slices of Roma tomatoes, green peppers and cremini mushrooms.”

“Is it good?”

“Of course,” he said, then lowered his voice to add, “but a better vegetarian option—in my opinion—is the classic Margherita pizza with tomato sauce, buffalo mozzarella and fresh basil.”

“I’m not a vegetarian,” Lauryn said. “I’m just not a fan of meat on pizza.”

Jordyn knew that wasn’t true. On more than one occasion, she’d seen her sister enjoy pizza with pepperoni, hot sausage and bacon, so she suspected the truth was that the baby was protesting the idea of meat on pizza.

“I’ll try a small Margherita pizza,” Lauryn decided.

“Good choice,” he said, turning to Tristyn.

“I’ll have the seven-layer lasagna,” she told him.

He nodded before turning his attention—and bone-melting smile—to Jordyn. “And what can I get for you?”

She told herself that she wasn’t affected, but the annoying flutters in her belly suggested otherwise.

“The gnocchi,” she decided, handing him the menu.

“One of my favorites,” he said, and smiled at her in a way that made her recently painted toes curl.

* * *

“Maybe we don’t need an Italian restaurant in our neighborhood,” Tristyn said when she pushed her mostly empty plate aside. “If I ate like that on a regular basis, I’d have to spend a lot more time at the gym.”

Jordyn raised her brows. “You go to the gym?”

“Not if I can help it,” Tristyn admitted.

“So what are you doing with the rest of your night?” Lauryn asked her sisters.

Tristyn shrugged. “No specific plans.”

“Mom and Dad are keeping Kylie overnight, so I thought maybe we could catch a movie. There’s a new Bradley Cooper flick playing at the multiplex that I heard was fabulous.”

“You had me at ‘Bradley Cooper,’” Tristyn told her.

“Great—how about you, Jordyn?”

“I’m the one who told you it was a fabulous movie,” she reminded her sister. “I saw it a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh.” Lauryn sighed, obviously disappointed. “Well, maybe there’s something else playing that we all want to see.”

“No—you guys should go,” Jordyn said. “I’ve got a ton of laundry to do, anyway.”

Tristyn shook her head. “You’re going to spend a Saturday night doing laundry?”

“My dirty socks don’t know or care what day of the week it is.”

“And I thought
I
didn’t get out much,” Lauryn mumbled.

“You forget that I’m out almost every night.”

“Work doesn’t count.”

“Well, tonight I want to relax at home, so you can drop me off there on your way to the theater.”

Lauryn shrugged. “Your call. And speaking of calls—I left my phone charging in the car. Can I borrow yours to text Rob to let him know our plans?”

“Sure.” Jordyn found it easily in the front pocket of her purse and passed it across the table.

Lauryn quickly texted the message; Rob’s response came back almost immediately. “He says no problem. He’s working late tonight, anyway.”

“What are you guys doing tomorrow?” Tristyn asked. “Any big plans for your anniversary?”

Lauryn shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Jordyn frowned at that. “I’m sure Rob has something planned—he probably just wants it to be a surprise.”

“I’m pretty sure he plans to work,” Lauryn said, trailing her finger through the condensation on the outside of her water glass.

Jordyn and Tristyn exchanged a worried look. They’d both had some concerns when their sister accepted Rob Schulte’s proposal six and a half years earlier, but Lauryn had been head over heels in love, so they’d kept those concerns to themselves. And although Lauryn never said or did anything to indicate that she was unhappy with the choices she’d made, her sisters both knew that she wasn’t as happy as she pretended to be.

“You’re not doing
anything
?” Tristyn prompted.

“Like I said, Rob has to work all day, so I was planning to make his favorite buttermilk fried chicken and potato salad and pack it into a picnic basket to take to him at the store.”

“That sounds lovely,” Jordyn said.

It also sounded like her sister was making all of the effort for their anniversary—as she’d done throughout most of their relationship, but she kept that comment to herself.

“Have you decided on dessert?” Marco asked, returning to their table.

“Since I can’t watch a movie without popcorn, I think I’m going to have to pass on dessert tonight,” Lauryn said.

“Popcorn has nothing on cannoli,” Tristyn said. “But you’re right—if I have both, I’ll end up feeling sick and won’t enjoy the movie.”

Jordyn sighed. “I guess that means I don’t get any cannoli. It’s no fun eating dessert alone.”

“Any coffee or tea?” Marco offered.

“Just the bill,” Lauryn said.

He nodded and moved away from the table.

“I’m going to hit the bathroom to wash up before we head out,” Tristyn said.

“I’ll come with you,” Lauryn said. “Since I had Kylie, my bladder capacity isn’t what it used to be.”

Jordyn sat at the table, waiting for the bill.

After several minutes had gone by, she realized that Marco seemed to have disappeared, and the waitress who had been working the front of the restaurant had taken over the whole dining room. After she delivered appetizers to a nearby table, Jordyn flagged her down.

“Can I get you something else?” the woman, whose name tag identified her as Sydney, asked.

“I’m just waiting for the bill.”

“It’s been taken care of. Your friends paid on their way out.”

“They
left
?”

“I think so,” Sydney said, though she looked a little uncertain now. “I saw them settling up with Marco at the bar, then they headed toward the door.”

“Thank you,” Jordyn said, reaching into her purse for her phone as the waitress returned to her duties.

But of course, her phone wasn’t in her purse, because Lauryn hadn’t given it back to her after she’d texted Rob.

She waved the waitress over again. “Sorry to bother you again, but is there a phone that I could use?”

Sydney nodded. “At the bar.”

Jordyn forced a smile. “Great. Thanks.”

She picked up her purse and made her way to the bar. Marco was now behind the glossy expanse of mahogany, chatting with a young couple who were sipping wine and nibbling on antipasti.

She slipped between two high-backed chairs and folded her arms on the bar. He glanced over, his easy smile widening when he saw her. “I didn’t realize you were still here.”

“Not by choice,” she assured him.

He looked at her quizzically.

“You didn’t have anything to do with this?”

“With what?” he asked.

She sighed and shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Can I get you something?” he asked, setting a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of her.

“A phone?”

“Not a usual request,” he admitted, lifting a handset from the charger beneath the counter and setting it on the napkin.

“Thanks.” She dialed Tristyn’s number.

The call went directly to voice mail.

“I’m going to kill her,” she muttered.

“Who?”

“My sister. Actually, both of them,” she decided. “If you hear about a double homicide on the eleven-o’clock news, it will be them.”

“Any particular reason?” he asked.

“I could give you a thousand, but the most recent is that they stole my phone.” She dialed her own number next, and although it rang several times, the call wasn’t picked up at the other end. “And now they’re not even answering it.”

She dialed again, still got no answer.

“Do you have the number of Gold Hub Taxi?” she asked him.

“Sure,” he said. “But why are you calling a cab?”

“Because not only did my sisters steal my phone, they abandoned me here.”

His brows lifted. “What did you do to them?”

“Nothing.”

He set the phone back down, out of her reach, obviously waiting for more of an explanation.

She huffed out a breath. “It’s a setup.”

“What’s a setup?”

“They abandoned me here to make me a damsel in distress and give you the opportunity to ride to my rescue, to prove that you’re some kind of Prince Charming. Now can I please have the phone?”

One side of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “So that you can call a cab to take you home and deprive me of the opportunity to play my part?”

“Exactly,” she confirmed.

“I think your sisters would be disappointed if I let that happen.”

“You don’t need to worry about disappointing them.”

“All the same, I’d feel better if I saw you safely home.”

She was about to tell him that she wasn’t concerned with his feelings, but his words were followed by another one of those slow smiles that made her toes curl and her heart pound. Which was probably another reason she should insist on taking a cab. He waved over the hostess, said something to her that Jordyn couldn’t hear.

Gemma nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

“I appreciate the offer, but you can’t just take off in the middle of a shift,” Jordyn protested.

“I only got called in tonight because the restaurant was short staffed,” he told her. “Now that the dinner rush is over, they don’t need me here.”

“You really shouldn’t let my sisters draw you into their game.”

He winked at her. “Why would I object when it gives me a chance to play with you?”

She rolled her eyes at the innuendo, refusing to acknowledge the quick spurt of her pulse that suggested that she might want to be played with. “It will save us both a lot of grief if you just let me call a cab.”

“Would you really rather take a cab?”

“No,” she admitted. “But I really don’t like being manipulated.”

He took a bakery box from Gemma when she returned. “Sydney has the dining room under control and Rafe is going to cover the bar.”

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“I’m giving Jordyn a ride home.”

The hostess looked at her suspiciously. “Car trouble?”

She sighed. “Sister trouble.”

Some of the suspicion faded from Gemma’s eyes, and one side of her mouth turned up in a half smile.