Layla nodded. “I agree. Why the frown then?”
“Because Kyle doesn’t know what he’s missing.” Marybelle set the napkin next to her plate. “Or, I guess he does, but he doesn’t have the sense to choose more wisely.” A look passed between her and Layla that hinted at some private communication. It turned awkward when Layla noticed him staring at the two of them.
He looked at Marybelle. “Kyle?”
“My wayward nephew, skiing the slopes instead of indulging his elderly aunt.”
“But look how it turned out. We wouldn’t have had Brant’s food and wine if Kyle were here,” Layla said. She avoided looking at him. He guessed Kyle might have been the man he saw with Layla in the car outside the shop a few weeks ago.
“How many people did you have over for dinner today?” Marybelle asked him.
He counted on his fingers for several seconds. “Twenty-two.”
Layla gaped at him. “You have a big family.”
“They’re not all relatives. Only a few actually. The rest are employees and their families.”
Layla’s smile faltered a bit. “And everyone gathers at your house?”
“I’ve been hosting for a few years. I love to cook. And I like to think of the people who work for me as family.”
“Isn’t that the sweetest?” Marybelle clasped her hands, casting an adoring look at him. There was a little sarcasm behind the compliment, but he’d learned in the short time he’d spent in Marybelle’s company that her heart was genuine. And she worshipped Layla.
He caught Layla staring at him with a curious look. A small smile quirked her lips again. If he didn’t get out of there, he might mess up and break the good luck streak of admiring glances she’d been dealing him since he walked in the door. The Holly Days dinner was ten days away. With the way things were going, he might have a chance to be something more to Layla than a ride up to Hendricks.
“Hate to break up the party, but I need to get back.” He rose and noted her smile disappeared.
“So soon?” Marybelle asked.
“I probably still have a kitchen to clean.” That wasn’t entirely the truth. He did leave before everyone else did, but his guests, particularly his mom and Joan, wouldn’t have left a crumb or dirty utensil to be found. Overstaying his welcome here would be a greater injustice than a little white lie.
“He’s even more handsome in person than he is on the billboard,” Marybelle whispered none too quietly to Layla as she leaned over the bed to clear away Marybelle’s plate. Layla bent closer to her and said something. They both giggled.
“My ears are burning,” he joked.
Layla looked up at him, her cheeks coloring. “Really? What makes you think I said anything about you?”
“Why whisper it then?”
Marybelle whistled. “Oh boy. Kyle never had a chance, did he?”
Layla pulled him by the arm with one hand while balancing plates in the other. “Say goodbye, Marybelle. Brant is leaving.”
“Thanks for welcoming the intrusion,” he said at the door. Behind him, Layla continued to tug.
Marybelle waved. “You’re welcome to bring me leftovers any time, Brant dear.”
A few minutes later, Layla slipped into an oversized cardigan and walked with him outside. The night had chilled considerably since he’d left his house. But it was clear, the sky scattered with a blanket of stars.
“Thank you again for coming. It was sweet of you,” she said. Her breath spilled out in short, white puffs against the darkness. “If you got the impression Marybelle wasn’t grateful, trust me, you made her day.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad I did. She seems like she’d be a tough case to win over if a first impression fell through.”
Layla cocked her head to the side when she looked up at him. “I doubt you have that problem very much.”
“I did with you,” he said before he could think twice. He almost clapped a hand over his mouth. If he could leave the past where it belonged, she might be able to forget their first meeting once and for all.
She looked off into the darkness with a grin playing on her lips, but she stayed silent.
