“You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” he said, enamored.
I looked behind me to wave to America, whose smile was so wide I could see every one of her teeth. Shepley had the expression of a proud father, and Travis kept his eyes on the television.
Parker held out his hand, leading me to his shiny Porsche. Once we were inside, he let out a puff of air.
“What?” I asked.
“I have to say, I was a bit nervous about picking up the woman Travis Maddox is in love with … from his apartment. You don’t know how many people have accused me of insanity today.”
“Travis is not in love with me. He can barely stand to be near me sometimes.”
“Then it’s a love/hate relationship? Because when I broke it to my brothers that I was taking you out tonight, they all said the same thing. He’s been behaving so erratically—even more than usual—that they’ve all come to the same conclusion.”
“They’re wrong,” I insisted.
Parker shook his head as if I were utterly clueless. He rested his hand on mine. “We’d better go. I have a table waiting.”
“Where?”
“Biasetti’s. I took a chance … I hope you like Italian.”
I raised one eyebrow. “Wasn’t it short notice for reservations? That place is always packed.”
“Well … it’s our restaurant. Half, anyway.”
“I like Italian.”
Parker drove to the restaurant at exactly the speed limit, using his turn signal appropriately and slowing at a reasonable rate for each yellow light. When he spoke, he barely took his eyes from the road. When we arrived at the restaurant, I giggled.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re just … a very cautious driver. It’s a good thing.”
“Different from the back of Travis’s motorcycle?” he smiled.
I should have laughed, but the difference didn’t feel like a good thing. “Let’s not talk about Travis tonight. Okay?”
“Fair enough,” he said, leaving his seat to open my door.
&n
bsp; We were seated right away at a table by a large bay window. Although I was in a dress, I looked impoverished compared to the other women in the restaurant. They were dripping in diamonds and wearing cocktail dresses. I’d never eaten anywhere so swanky.
We ordered, and Parker closed his menu, smiling at the waiter. “And bring us a bottle of the Allegrini Amarone, please.”
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said, taking our menus.
“This place is unbelievable,” I whispered, leaning against the table.
His green eyes softened. “Thank you, I’ll let my father know you think so.”
A woman approached our table. Her hair was pulled into a tight blond French bun, a gray streak interrupting the smooth wave of her bangs. I tried not to stare at the sparkling jewels resting around her neck, or those swaying back and forth on her ears, but they were made to be noticed. Her squinty blue eyes targeted me.
She quickly turned away to look at my date. “Who’s your friend, Parker?”
“Mother, this is Abby Abernathy. Abby, this is my mother, Vivienne Hayes.”
I extended my hand and she shook it once. In a well-practiced move, interest lit the sharp features of her face, and she looked to Parker. “Abernathy?”