Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(41)

“Next time.” I held the bowl of pasta while she served herself a helping, looking beyond Drew—who sat across from me—engrossed by the sunset.

The sun hadn’t settled beyond the horizon, but almost. Those of us facing west weren’t bad off, the terrace had a retractable cloth awning, keeping the sun out of our faces for the most part. Plus, we had the view. An olive orchard sloping down to the valley, barley fields, vineyards, the Tuscan hills beyond, a dusk sky streaked with orange and pink.

“What’re you looking at?” Drew twisted in his seat to look over his shoulder, the sunset behind him had made a halo out of his longish blond hair. After pausing for a moment to inspect the view, he turned back to me, a slight smile behind his gray eyes. “Oh. That.”

“You want to sit here?” my sister asked her husband, taking the pasta and holding it so I could serve myself. “You folks along that side with your back to the sun are missing out. You have no view.”

“I have a view,” he said, splitting his attention between Ashley and cutting up the steak on his plate into tiny pieces for their daughter, Bethany. She’d insisted on sitting in her own seat and not on her daddy’s lap.

“Oh pshaw!” Handing the pasta to Beau on her other side, Ashley gestured to the sky behind Drew. “Look at that, just look at all that gorgeousness.”

“I told you, I am.” He continued to look at her.

Ashley’s lips pressed into a line that was one part exasperation and ten parts happiness. “I love you,” she said to him, her voice all soft, “but you are crazy if you think I’m more beautiful than that view.”

“Then I guess you married a crazy man.” He shrugged.

My sister and her husband shared a look and a smile, warmth and sweetness passing between them. I felt my mouth curve and studied my plate, letting them have their moment free of spectators. But then, my eyes lifted before I could check the impulse, sought Scarlet like they’d done so many times today, and I understood exactly what Drew meant.

Tonight, she was in a long summer dress the color of wine grapes, her lips painted red, her hair loose around bare shoulders. She was smiling at Jenn and nodding her head, and then she laughed, and the sight eclipsed the view and sunset and summer sky, leaving my chest tight, my limbs restless, and everything else adrift.

I’d tried to apologize to her throughout the day. Several times I’d sought her out. Every room I entered she continued to leave, not that I blamed her. The only exception had been tonight’s dinner. But with her three seats down and on the other side of the table, we weren’t close enough to talk let alone have a private conversation.

I was determined to catch her after dinner, but I wouldn’t go to her room. I didn’t want her to feel cornered. I planned to apologize and propose a new truce: we didn’t have to interact or speak to each other, but we didn’t have to go out of our way to avoid each other either. We could just . . . be. Give that a try, see if we could make it work.

“We need to discuss tomorrow.” Cletus—who’d positioned himself at the head of the table so he could see everyone—lifted his voice over the general murmur of conversation and presently swirled the wine in his glass, slanting it to the side as though inspecting its color.

“What happens tomorrow?” Shelly asked, much to my surprise. She wasn’t one for talking, especially not in a group.

The sound of her voice apparently surprised everyone. Conversation mellowed and folks seemed to turn toward her and Cletus in unison.

“I know some of y’all are still suffering from jet lag, but we have tickets to Michelangelo’s David first thing in the morning and we need to sort who’s going and who’s staying.”

Jess lifted her hand. “Duane is going to make sure y’all find your way. My parents and I are staying with Liam and making dinner for when you get back.”

“Maya wants to go, but Sienna, the boys, and I are staying.” Jethro spoke for his family.

“What? Why?” Cletus glanced between Sienna and Jet, setting down his wine glass.

“The last time we were in Florence, Sienna was recognized,” Jethro replied, shrugging. “I had to get her through a crowd fifty folks deep.”

“He had a black eye after and his back was covered in bruises,” Sienna tutted, placing her hand in his on the tabletop.

“Okay, well then, I hope the rest of y’all are going because otherwise we’re going to lose our group tour discount, and then I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“Shelly and I are going,” Beau said, slinging his arm on the back of the chair behind Shelly and playing with her long brownish-blonde braid. “And I know Ash and Drew are coming with Beth.”

“That’s right,” Drew confirmed. “We’re looking forward to it.”

My attention drifted to the two-year-old across the table. She was drinking from a big cup, holding it with two hands and peering at me over the rim, her gaze steady and intense. Her eyes were a mix of her daddy’s silver and her momma’s blue. I suspected she’d wield that stare like a sword one day.

One might say Bethany and I had an understanding. Every time she brought me a book, I read it. Didn’t matter where we were or what I was doing. If I was on the phone, I hung up. If I was in the middle of a conversation, I excused myself. If I was cooking, I turned off the stove. Every. Time.