Kiss Me in the Summer - Barbara Dunlop Page 0,56

on the accelerator.

“No reason to push it,” he said.

Butch settled down again, and I stroked his head, reassuring him in case he was worried.

“She’s ordering some wine,” I said.

“Well, it’s not like she’s going to be driving home.”

Chapter Eleven

We drove down a steep gravel road to the Summer Tide Inn.

Although the night was black, I could see the large, stone building was situated on a rocky outcrop. I imagined on a normal night the views would be impressive, but as we left Butch in the back of the SUV and dashed for the covered porch, I could barely make out fuzzy lights across the bay.

It wasn’t until we’d entered the lobby and shook off the rain drops that I realized it was a high-end establishment. A maître d’ stood in a suit behind a small, polished wood counter. Latticework behind him revealed a magnificent restaurant with tufted red leather chairs, a long glassed-in fireplace, picture windows, hammered copper sculptures and a huge candle-look chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling that gave the room a soft, orange glow.

“Good evening, sir,” the maître d’ said. He took in our appearance. His expression didn’t change, but I was reminded I was still wearing the tan coveralls.

I darted behind Josh—planning to hide—even though Josh looked no better than me.

“I can’t go in there,” I hissed, pressing close to Josh’s back.

“We’re meeting someone for dinner,” Josh said to the maître d’. If he was worried about how we looked, he didn’t show it.

“Are you kidding?” I whispered from my spot at Josh’s back. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Would that be Madeline Rowin?”

“That’s her,” Josh said.

He linked his arm with mine and urged me around to his side. To the maître d’ he said, “I hope it’s not jacket and tie.”

The maître d’ cracked a grin. “Not at all, sir.”

“This isn’t funny,” I whispered to Josh. “There are other people in there. We’re going to offend them.”

“Nobody cares what we’re wearing,” Josh said.

“I care.”

“You’ll have to get over it. I’m hungry.”

“Right this way,” the maître d’ said.

“Chin up,” Josh said as we started walking. “Pretend you’re wearing haute couture.”

“This is not haute couture.”

“Nobody can tell that these days.”

“Oh, yes they can.”

“We’re in rural Maine, not on Fifth Avenue. Sell it.”

We were walking through the restaurant now. People were looking up at us. They were staring. I had a choice between dipping my head, slumping my shoulders, and slinking to the table or taking Josh’s advice.

I decided to give my best shot at being brazening. I squared my shoulders, held my head high, and gave a frowning woman in classic black cocktail dress a look that said I was sorry she couldn’t have been more creative.

She looked away before I did.

I counted it as a win.

I looked to the next table and the next. There were a few raised eyebrows, but most people didn’t stare too long.

“There you are.” Madeline was clearly delighted to see us. “Sit down, sit down. I’ve ordered the seafood sampler for all of us. It should be here in a minute. Give Laila the view. The lightning’s still going strong.”

The maître d’ pulled out my chair. I was more than happy to sit with my back to the rest of the room.

Madeline was right about the lightning. As Josh sat down between us, long forks flashed in the black clouds.

A waiter arrived. “A cocktail, ma’am?” he asked me.

“Soda water with lime, please.”

“Same for me,” Josh said.

“I’m Reginald, if you need anything further,” the maître d’ said as he withdrew.

Madeline picked up the bottle of red wine from the table. “You should really try some. It’s local and quite wonderful.”

“We’ll both be driving,” Josh said. “I’ll take the Challenger, and Laila will drive my SUV.”

Madeline rolled her eyes. Then she turned the bottle to pour herself some more wine. Josh intervened, and she relinquished the bottle to him. To my surprise, he topped off her glass. I didn’t know why I’d thought he was going to cut off her drinking.

Now that I was settled in a comfortable chair, taking in the enticing aromas of the dining room, I realized I was starving. Forget what the other diners might think of me, I was going to enjoy a nice meal.

“You shouldn’t have gone joyriding,” Josh said to Madeline.

She waved away his concern. “Let’s not do the fussbudget thing now and ruin dinner.” Then her focus moved beyond my shoulder. “Ah, there we are. I hope you’re both hungry.”

The waiter set a sizzling