Fortune's Prince. Allison Leigh
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standing beside Amelia, rolled her eyes. “Good grief, Quinn. Manners much?”
“It’s quite all right,” Amelia said quickly. She lifted her chin a little. “This is Texas, for goodness’ sake. Cattle ranch country. I certainly don’t imagine anyone stands around discussing tea and biscuits. Or, cookies, I guess you call them.”
He nearly choked. Because they’d laughed together about that, too. Only she’d been naked at the time, and throatily telling him that she’d bet he’d enjoy teatime perfectly well if she served it up for him after making love.
“Depends on whose cookies you’re talking about,” Deke said. “Jeanne Marie makes some oatmeal peanut-butter deals that are the talk of three counties.” His dry humor broke the faint tension. “Stacey girl, you wanna grab a tray for these steaks? They’re ’bout ready.”
“Sure.”
“I’ll take her,” Amelia offered quickly, reaching out her hands for Piper, and Stacey handed her over. She settled the wide-eyed toddler on her hip and tickled her cheek, making Piper squeal and wriggle. “Who is the prettiest baby girl here, hmm?”
For some reason, Quinn’s neck prickled.
He twisted the cap off his beer and focused on Liam. “Where’s your better half, anyway?” There was no sign of his friend’s red-haired fiancée.
“Julia’s meeting with one of the suppliers over at the Cantina. She’ll be here as soon as she finishes up.”
“Is the restaurant still going to open on schedule?” Amelia asked.
Liam nodded. “Two weeks from now, right on track.”
The Hollows Cantina was a big deal for their little town. It was owned and to be operated by Marcos Mendoza and his wife, Wendy Fortune Mendoza, who’d relocated all the way from Red Rock, a good four hundred Texas miles away. They’d hired Julia as an assistant manager and the establishment promised upscale dining that was intended to draw not only the locals from Horseback Hollow and nearby Vicker’s Corners, but as far away as Lubbock. Considering the Mendozas’ success with Red, a fancy Mexican food restaurant in Red Rock that was famous even beyond the state lines, Quinn figured they had a decent shot of success at it.
He was reserving judgment on whether that all would be a good thing for Horseback Hollow or not. He wasn’t vocally opposed to it like some folks, nor was he riding around on the bandwagon of supporters, though he was glad enough for Julia. She’d always been a hard worker and deserved her shot as much as anyone did.
He, personally, would probably still choose the Horseback Hollow Grill over the Cantina. Even on a good day, he wasn’t what he would call “upscale” material.
“My mother has the grand opening on her calendar,” Amelia said. “I know she’s looking forward to it. Not only is Uncle James going to be there, but Uncle John, as well. It should be quite a family reunion.”
Quinn stopped pretending an interest in his beer and looked at her. Ironically, the British Fortunes seemed too upscale for the Cantina. “And you? Is it on your calendar, too, princess? Maybe you’ll drag your fiancé along for the trip.”
Amelia’s chocolate-brown eyes went from her cousin’s face to Quinn’s and for the first time since he’d met her, they contained no emotion whatsoever. “I’m not sure what I’ll be doing by the end of the month.” Her voice was smoothly pleasant and revealed as little as her eyes did.
Her “royal face,” he realized.
She’d talked about having one. Having had to develop as a little girl the ability to give nothing away by expression, deed or word.
He’d just never seen it in person before. And not directed at him.
Piper was wriggling on her hip and Amelia leaned over to set the little girl on her feet. She kept hold of Piper’s tiny hands as the girl made a beeline toddle for the wig sitting on the picnic bench next to them.
“Keekee,” she chortled, and reached for the wig.
Amelia laughed lightly and scooped up the wig before Piper could reach it and brushed the short thick strands against the baby’s face. “That’s not a kitty, darling. It’s a wig.”
She’d crouched next to Piper and while the child chortled over the hairy thing, she glanced up at Quinn. “There was no need to return the wig to me, Quinn,” she told him. “You could have tossed it in the trash bin.”
He really wished he would have.
Liam tilted his beer to his lips but not quickly enough to hide his faint grin. “Thought the rat belonged to your sis’s kids.”
“Here’s the tray,” Stacey announced, striding up with a metal cookie sheet in her hand that she set on the side of the grill.
She was also carrying a big bowl of coleslaw under her other arm, and, glad of an escape route, Quinn slid his hand beneath it. “I’ll put it on the table before you drop it.” He turned away from the lot of them and carried it over to a folding table that had obviously been set out to hold the food.
* * *
Trying not to watch Quinn too openly, Amelia continued entertaining the sweet baby with the wig while everyone else seemed to suddenly spring into action organizing the food onto plates and the people onto picnic benches.
Though she tried to avoid it, she somehow found herself sitting directly across from Quinn. He was hemmed in on one side by Delaney, Jeanne Marie and Deke’s youngest daughter, and Liam on the other. Amelia was caught between Jeanne Marie and Deke.
If she didn’t know better, she almost would have suspected her aunt and uncle of planning it.
Judging by the way Quinn noticeably ignored her, he was no more comfortable with the seating plan than she was. Fortunately, his friendship with Liam was evident as the two men dickered over the issue of Rocky’s studding abilities and whether or not the summer season would be wetter or drier than usual.
“Have some more corn bread,” Jeanne Marie said, nudging a basket of the fragrant squares into her hands.
Amelia obediently put another piece on her plate, and managed a light laugh when Deke tried to talk her into another steak, though she’d only eaten a fraction of the one on her plate. “If I ate all this, I’d pop,” she protested.
“So, Amelia,” Delaney drew her attention. “What are you doing in Horseback Hollow, anyway?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity as she grinned. “Are you planning some secret meeting with your wedding gown designer? Texas has our very own Charlene Dalton. She’s based in Red Rock and I hear she did Emily Fortune’s gown.”
“Delaney,” Jeanne Marie tsked, handing the corn bread across to her daughter. “You’re sounding like one of those nosy reporters.”
Delaney made a protesting sound. “That’s not fair. None of us expected to find ourselves family with The Fortunes. If you can’t share some secrets among your own family, who can you share ’em with? It’s not like I’ll go tattling to the newspapers. And besides. I didn’t get to see Emily’s gown outside of pictures, ’cause she got married before we even knew we all were cousins!”
“It’s all right,” Amelia said quickly. Not only could she sense her aunt’s sudden discomfort, but she was painfully aware of Quinn across from her. “I’m not...not planning any designer sessions.” She was loath to discuss her personal business in front of everyone, even if they were family. That just wasn’t the way she’d been raised. Even among her four brothers and sister, she didn’t get into whys and wherefores and the most personal of emotions. She hadn’t even divulged all the facts to her own mother about her “engagement,” though she knew Josephine had her suspicions.
She tried not looking at Quinn, but couldn’t help herself. “I’m not planning anything.” It wasn’t exactly a public admission, but since she’d discovered she was pregnant with his child,