of the space, dazzled under the shine of hundreds of twinkling white lights.
On Nantucket, everything twinkled and glowed at Christmas.
At the center of the room were two tables, each decorated with a sprig of evergreen in a vase tied with a red plaid ribbon.
“I can’t believe this room is open,” she said. “It’s the holiday season.”
“The owner is a friend. He shuffled a few things around.”
“We didn’t ruin someone else’s night, did we?” she asked.
“Of course not,” he said. “You’re always so concerned about everyone else.”
She frowned. “And that’s bad?”
He found her eyes and shook her head. “Just one more thing to admire about you.”
She felt her breath hitch, and she forced herself to recover. “So what’s the plan, we wait for them, then all have dinner together?”
“No,” he said with a smile. “We never show.”
She frowned. “We can’t do that.”
“Why not? It’s perfect. They’ll sit here in silence for a few minutes, and we text them to tell them we’re running late, but to go ahead and start without us, and before you know it, they’ll be having dinner together.”
She eyed him for a long moment. “How’d you get Peggy to agree to this anyway?”
“Are you kidding?” He smiled. “Do you think I have trouble getting women to go to dinner with me?”
“You’re the weirdest matchmaker I’ve ever met in my life.” She shook her head. “And the least subtle.”
“Aunt Nellie said nothing about subtle,” he said.
“Well, they aren’t supposed to know they’re being matched,” Pru told him. “This is so obvious.”
“But by the end of the night, they’ll be so in love with each other it won’t matter.”
“You’re awfully confident.” She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head.
“My buddy also set us up in the office so we can watch on the security camera.”
She gasped. “That’s a huge violation of privacy.”
He looked her over. “Tell me you’re not dying to see how this plays out.”
Well, shoot. She was, actually.
“There’s no sound, so it’s not exactly an ethical violation,” Hayes said. “Follow me.”
He led her through the kitchen, which was noisy and loud and bustling with activity, and into an office off to the side. On the desk were three small screens, each showing different parts of the restaurant. Periodically, the images changed.
“Is your friend paranoid?” Pru asked.
“Just cautious,” a voice from behind her said.
She turned and saw a hulking man in a chef’s uniform. He extended a beefy hand in Hayes’s direction and grinned. “Good to see you, my friend.”
“Thank you for doing this, Dante,” Hayes said. “This is Pru.”
“Sutton Surf,” he said. “I’ve been in your shop.”
“Good to meet you.” Pru smiled, and noticed the wedding ring on Dante’s left hand. On the desk was a photo of his family—a wife and two kids. Pru wouldn’t deny she longed for a family of her own. Being hung up on Hayes was keeping her from finding that, and she knew it. If she wanted to have kids, she probably shouldn’t be wasting time on a fantasy that was never going to happen.
Inwardly, she groaned. She hated the universe’s little reminders that she wasn’t getting any younger.
Dante glanced at Hayes and raised his eyebrows. Silent communication passed between the two men. It was fleeting, and Pru didn’t dare ask what it was about—the last thing she needed was a picture into the inner workings of a man’s mind.
Although, knowing what Hayes was thinking could come in handy sometimes.
“Order whatever you want.” Dante produced two menus. “On me.”
“You really don’t have to do that,” Pru said.
“Yes, he does.” Hayes grinned. “He owes me.”
“He’s right,” Dante said. “I’d do anything for this guy. I’ll be back in a few to get your orders.”
Hayes studied the menu a bit too intently.
“Why does he owe you?” Pru asked.
Hayes shrugged. “I was the seed money in this place.”
Pru set her menu down. “You own part of this restaurant?”
“Why is that so surprising?” Hayes didn’t look up from the menu.
“I didn’t realize you were doing so well,” she said.
He smirked. “Well, when my dad started investing, he taught us everything he learned. I’ve been growing my portfolio ever since I worked at the Yacht Club when I was sixteen.”
“So, you’re rich?”
“No, but I do okay,” he said. “Dante’s a friend, and a killer chef. Wait till you taste his food. He didn’t have a way to open a place of his own, and I saw an opportunity.”
“Don’t pretend you did this to make money, Hayes,” she said, looking over the menu. “You