“David and Erin are here,” Sophia says.
The little girl glances at me and David, then waves. “Hello. I’m Isabella.”
“Hi. I’m Erin,” I say with a smile. She’s entirely too cute.
“I’ll give you a kiss if you put down your brush,” David says, squatting with his hands resting on his knees.
Her gaze swings from him to her brush, then back to him. She shakes her head. “It’s okay.”
He makes an exaggerated expression of despair, clutching his chest and groaning like a wounded animal. “Ow! That hurt!”
I press my lips so I don’t start laughing. This is a side of him I’ve never seen before, but I like it.
“Put the brush away, Isabella. It’s time for dinner,” Sophia says.
“But I want to paint!” The little girl looks up at her dad with trembling lips. “Please, Daddy?”
Dane’s face cracks, but Sophia’s hardens. She clears her throat.
He steals a quick look at her, inhales deeply and shakes his head. “No, sweetie pie.”
Sweetie pie? Especially in that dulcet tone? I’m glad I wasn’t drinking anything.
David’s rolling his eyes, looking incredulous.
“You have to wash your hands and eat,” Dane says, although the look in his eyes says he’s heartbroken he couldn’t let her do whatever she wants.
“Okay.” Isabelle sighs, then walks off, still holding her paintbrush.
When she’s gone, David makes a whipping noise. “Man.”
Dane’s soft mask slips off faster than water on oil. He’s back to the Mr. Iceberg I remember from earlier. “So you’re here.”
“I told you.”
“And your fiancée.”
Is it me, or does his tone imply that he doesn’t buy the whole engagement thing? Did David tell him the truth?
“My fiancée,” David says with a big smile.
Okay, so he didn’t. Maybe Dane’s just chronically grumpy. “Hi…” I say tentatively, hoping he doesn’t bite my head off.
“Let’s take you inside to the dining room, and we’ll change and be right back,” Sophia says. “Hope you like sangria, Erin.”
“Sure, love it,” I say. I don’t want her to worry about something I’ll never know the flavor of.
She and Dane take us to a huge room with bright colors and a high ceiling. The table’s large enough to seat at least twenty people, but plates, glasses and utensils are set up at one end for easier conversation. A pitcher of ice water and a pitcher of sangria sit on the table as well, along with an enormous bouquet of pink orchids.
“It’s big,” I comment. “Do you entertain a lot?”
“Sometimes. Dane has four siblings, so we need space when we have them over.” Sophia gestures. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
We sit down. “We’re good. Go make yourselves presentable,” David says.
“Be right back,” Sophia says, leaving with Dane.
I note they’re holding hands, Dane’s head dipped over her as he whispers. It’s such an odd scene, knowing what I know about Dane’s personality. But at the same time, it’s sweet.