One To Watch(54)

“Hey! How’s it going?” Bea’s brother Jon broke the moment as he plopped down in a chair across from them.

“Good.” Bea cleared her throat. “This is Luc—Luc, meet my oldest brother, Jon. Luc is a chef from France.”

The two men shook hands. “France, huh? Hope you’re not too bored here in unglamorous Ohio.”

“Where I come from, in Normandy, is not so different from this.”

“Is that true?” Bea asked. “You come from the countryside?”

“Yes, I grew up near a city called Rouen, north of Paris, not far from the coast? You may know it as the city where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake.”

“Oh, so you guys have cool progressive ideas about women.”

“Exactement.” Luc laughed, and Jon looked brightly from him to Bea.

“You two seem to be getting along. You like each other?”

Bea flushed red and shot her brother a dirty look.

“I cannot speak for Bea,” Luc replied, “but yes, I like her very much.”

“What do you like about her?”

“Jon!”

“What?”

“That’s a ridiculous question!”

“What’s a ridiculous question?” Tim ambled over in his truly ridiculous sweatpants.

“Luc just said he likes Bea, and I was asking why,” Jon explained as Tim helped himself to a seat. “He’s French,” Jon added with rather more distaste than necessary.

“Ugh, guys, can we not?” Bea protested.

“Are you embarrassed by this?” Luc turned to Bea.

“Yes, obviously.”

“Why should you be? I am not embarrassed to say that I like very much your wit, and your company, and the way you get warm in your face anytime you’re annoyed, like you are with me now.” He ran a finger along her cheek, and she laughed and sighed in exasperation. Luc turned back to Jon and Tim.

“I also like that she is beautiful. And a very good kisser.”

“Come on, man.”

“She’s our sister!”

Bea laughed, and Luc kissed her to prove his point—just a quick kiss, but something about the effortlessness of it knocked Bea over. After all the years of watching her brothers with their girlfriends and then their wives, all the hundreds of meaningless, easy, casual kisses, this was the first time any man had kissed Bea in front of her family.

The moment lingered in Bea’s mind as a producer escorted her to the drinks table to film a conversation with Jefferson—he’d apparently raided Bob and Sue’s meager liquor cabinet, and was mixing himself some sort of elaborate cocktail.

“Hey, there she is!” He broke into a wide smile as Bea approached. “Can I fix you a classic gin fizz?”

“I don’t understand how you found all these ingredients in my parents’ house,” Bea marveled as Jefferson handed her a frothy lemon-tinged drink in one of Sue’s antique glasses.

“Just gin, lemon, sugar, soda, and egg white,” Jefferson ticked off the ingredients.

“What’d you do with the yolk?” Bea asked, remembering the feel of eggs slipping through her fingers as Luc stood behind her.

“I tossed the yolk in a flower bed.” Jefferson grinned. “The nutrients are good for the plants.”

“Wow, so you’re a bartender and a gardener.” Bea smiled, thinking how much Bob would enjoy that particular fun fact. “If my parents find out, they’ll want you to stay forever.”

“Really? You think so?” Jefferson’s voice trailed off and he looked away from her, his eyes scanning across the yard, a faint smile on his face. Bea couldn’t tell what he was thinking—but then he turned back toward her, and he looked emotional.

“You know, it’s been really cool to be here, meet everyone,” he said. “Because all this—the house, the yard, the kids, everybody getting together and just having a good time? That’s exactly what I want, you know? And I guess—what I want to know is if you want it too.”

Bea felt a pang in her gut: Yes, she wanted to scream, I want this more than you could possibly imagine. But the idea of saying that out loud—in this place, surrounded by these men, under the judgmental stares of millions of eyes—felt terrifying. Like giving voice to this secret piece of herself would allow everyone in the world to tell her just how foolish she was for wanting something so laughably out of reach.

“Hey.” Jefferson stepped toward her, his voice low. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Bea murmured, shaking her head. “It’s just—I love my family so much, you know? It makes me really happy that you like it here.”

Jefferson reached for Bea’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he murmured.

Bea looked up at him, confused. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He laughed gently. “That surprises you?”

“I guess it does, a little,” she admitted.

“Well, then that’s on me for not making my intentions more clear.”

“Your intentions?”

“Bea”—he leaned in—“I think you’re awesome.”

For a second she thought he was going to kiss her, but he laughed again instead.