A Daughter's Homecoming by Ginny Aiken

Author:Ginny Aiken
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-08-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

This was exactly what he’d feared when he’d thought up the unconventional birthday celebration. He’d known he would run the chance of exposing his background by cooking for her, but he’d wanted to do something special for her, something no one else could do.

And yet, he’d also known he couldn’t tell her how personal a gift the meal was. However, he’d never expected her to take this route. He’d never thought she’d want to hire the unknown chef.

“Uh, it’s getting late,” he murmured, unable to meet her gaze. “Besides, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree with that gourmet restaurant idea of yours. Think of the yawning gap you’ll leave in the town once you take away the local pizza hangout.”

She clenched her jaw, then shook her head “Not really. No one’s taking Birdie’s Nest away from the town, so they’ll still have a hangout. The Nest offers a great menu, and no one needs pizza to hang out. I have to think of my family’s well-being first.”

Gabi seemed determined to remain willfully blind. Still, he had to try to make her see reason. “So you’ve said from the start, but I don’t think you’ve considered what this would mean to local families. They need a choice, and even though the diner is fine for the adult crowd, and maybe even the older teens, I don’t see as many little kids there as I do at Tony’s. Your parents have worked hard to create a welcoming, homey atmosphere, and pizza is a natural draw for kids. That means families, and families mean steady business.”

“I’m sorry, Zach.” She stood. “I think it’s best for us to agree to disagree on this. But I am tired now.” She shook off the gritty beach sand from her flip-flops and slipped them back on. “I do thank you for the loveliest birthday celebration ever, and I would appreciate the name of the chef or, at the very least, where you bought the food.”

He shook out the tablecloth, folded it and picked up the repacked basket. Walking back to the car, he pretended not to have heard her repeated request. Why had he ever thought he could get away with this? It had never occurred to him that she might ask who’d made the food—but it should have. He’d been too busy thinking of her in personal terms rather than as the driven career woman she was.

He should have left that kind of infatuated thinking behind ages ago. But there was just something about Gabi Carlini that sent common sense flying right out of his head. Now the memory she’d have of her birthday was of an argument instead of a romantic time.

No wonder he was still single.

They returned to town in silence. He pulled up in front of her home, then dashed around the car to let her out. They walked to the house without speaking a word, and he again felt like a gawky junior high boy.

“Thanks,” she said in a voice so soft he had to strain to catch her words.

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