I blushed.
He turned to Maia, who was at my side. “Maia.” He winked at her.
She blushed.
Logan groaned and glowered at his sister. “We need to get you a new fiancé.”
Shannon grinned, looking more than a tad smug. “He can’t help that he’s gorgeous.”
I think Maia and I blushed even harder.
“Oh God. Don’t be filling his head with that nonsense.” Cam gave Cole a teasing shove toward the table. “It’s big enough.”
“I’ll have you know I have just the right amount of ego,” Cole shot back before pulling out Shannon’s chair for her. I noted Cam did the same for Jo and Logan did the same for Maia.
It was such a gentlemanly thing to do. And here I thought chivalry was dead.
Before I could pull out my own chair, Logan slid around Maia’s and did it for me. I smiled at his kindness and settled in across from Jo.
“Where’s Belle?” Maia said immediately, looking disappointed.
I had to rack my brain, but I was sure Belle was Jo and Cam’s daughter.
“Oh, our friends Hannah and Marco are babysitting Belle. They have two boys and a daughter, Sophia, who is close to Belle’s age. They’re like cousins. They’re really close,” Jo explained.
“Hannah is Cole’s best friend,” Logan added for Maia’s benefit. “She’s a high school English teacher.”
Maia’s eyes widened. “At my school?”
Logan shook his head. “She doesn’t work there.”
“Thank God,” Maia murmured, and then blushed when everyone laughed. “Sorry. I just really don’t want to know one of my teachers outside of school.”
“Hannah can always help you though,” Cole said. “She’s happy to tutor after school.”
“Thanks, but Grace helps me with my English homework.” Maia grinned up at me, and now I had everyone’s attention.
“Oh? What do you do, Grace?” Cam said.
“I’m a freelance book editor. Mostly self-published fiction but some academic papers as well.”
“Really?” Jo leaned forward, looking extremely interested. “Our friend is a writer, and she’s thinking about self-publishing this series her publisher doesn’t want. She’s been looking for an editor.”
Yay for me! Dinner had suddenly turned into a potential client. “Oh, well, I’ll give you my number to give to her, and my Web site. What’s her name?”
“Jocelyn. She writes under ‘J. B. Carmichael.’”
My jaw dropped.
Jo snorted.
Her snort was quickly followed by muffled laughter around the table.
Clearly my face was a picture.
Considering J. B. Carmichael was a number-one Sunday Times bestseller, however, I think I was entitled to my surprise.
“You’re friends with J. B. Carmichael?” I said.