The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)

I noted Ira watching us with a pleased gleam in his eye and suspected he was happy we’d become friends.

Iris came bustling back into the sitting room with a tray of snacks and placed them on the coffee table before us. “Some predinner munchies.” She stood and placed her hands on her hips, her eyes coming to me. “You look a little pale, sweetheart. You okay? Is it the dinner guest? Did I go too far?”

“No,” I assured her. “Although I’m not in the market for a French chef. I just haven’t slept well these past few days.”

“Well—” She was cut off by the doorbell ringing. “Oh, there he is.”

As she and Ira both moved to answer the door, I looked at Ivy. “I’m surprised he agreed to this. He’s been so mysteriously absent.”

“Like a ghost. Bailey’s curiosity is through the roof. People have only caught glimpses of him coming and going from the restaurant,” she whispered.

A deep, masculine voice sounded from the doorway. With an American accent. Huh.

As if Ivy read my mind, she leaned in to whisper. “He’s French American.”

Ah, okay. I nodded and stood with her to greet the Greens’ guest as they led him inside.

Oh boy.

That was one very handsome man.

“Sebastian, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Ivy.”

Ivy moved forward to shake his hand with cool aplomb. Sebastian smiled, and there was a little flutter in my chest. He had the most gorgeous smile, a bright flash of white teeth, smooth brown skin, dark eyes that glittered beneath Iris’s ceiling lights, high cheekbones, and a rugged, angular jawline. His dark hair had been shaved into a fade, accentuating the masculine angles of his face. Standing at least six feet with strong shoulders and a narrow waist, Sebastian Mercier was handsome with a capital H.

Like clockwork, my cheeks grew hot as we greeted one another.

Iris noted the blush and grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

Dammit.

Not long later, we were seated around the Greens’ dining table, and I was taken aback by Sebastian’s warmth and friendliness. Between not reaching out to the town upon his arrival, and the fact that he was this fancy chef from Boston, I’d expected him to be a little aloof. Silly of me, of all people, to assume such a thing.

“My family used to vacation here when I was a boy.” Sebastian answered Iris’s question about why he’d chosen Hartwell to open a restaurant. “My family owned a French restaurant in Essex, and my mother didn’t like to leave it unattended. My father could only convince her to vacation here since it was close enough to hurry back if they needed to. It was the only time we had our parents’ entire focus for a full week. I have a lot of fond memories here.”

“And are you married, Sebastian?” Iris asked.

Ivy rolled her eyes and I hid my smile in a forkful of pasta.

“I am not. Running a restaurant is literally a full-time job. There isn’t much time for dating.” He took a bite of food and once he’d swallowed, he commented, “This is delicious. I can see why Antonio’s is always busy.”

It was the right thing to say. Ivy and I shared a grin as the Greens preened beneath the praise.

“I’m sorry if I haven’t introduced myself to all the business owners on the boardwalk.” Sebastian cut me an apologetic look. “There just always seems to be something to do at the restaurant and time gets away from me.”

“Oh, that’s understandable.” Iris waved off his apology as if she hadn’t been complaining about his “lack of manners” for months.

“So, you’re single, then?” Ira pulled the conversation back to Sebastian’s personal life. “And looking?”

Oh my God. Ivy groaned under her breath.

Sebastian’s lips twitched. “Not right this second. I have the restaurant to focus on. Plus, I have a teenage daughter. She’s with her mom in Boston, but she’ll be joining me for a few weeks before summer’s out. I try to make sure she has all my attention when she’s with me. Although she doesn’t seem to enjoy spending that much time with either of her parents at the moment.”

“You look a little young to have a teenage daughter,” Ivy said.

“Thank you. She’s fifteen. Her mother and I had her when I was twenty-five.”

“You’re forty?” I blurted out in disbelief. He looked ten years younger than that.