A Weaver Proposal. Allison Leigh
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And Justin—” his fork air-jabbed the young man next to Tabby “—and Tabby have been friends since their sandbox days.”
Then he lowered his fork and ran his gaze over her in a way that had her nerve endings heating up all over again. “Trust me, cupcake.” His voice dropped a notch. “I like my women all grown-up.”
The pizza she’d swallowed seemed suddenly stuck like a lump in her throat. It took every inch of effort she possessed to smile casually. “I guess I misunderstood.”
His eyebrow peaked, making him look devilish. “You think?”
She grabbed her water glass and downed the remainder of its contents. “I’m not going to apologize again,” she said under her breath. “You deliberately misled me yesterday. And you’ve been needling me since.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re carrying around a pincushion of needles of your own, though God knows where you have the room in that dress you’re wearing.” He looked over at his mother when she called his name and asked him to bring in the rest of the pizza.
Startled, Sydney looked over the long tabletop. “There’s more?”
Maggie laughed outright. “There’s always more, Sydney. One thing this family has learned how to do right together is eat.” Then she asked, “Tara, do you still need me to help out at the shop tomorrow?”
Sydney tried not to pay too much notice as Derek left the table, but it was hard considering his arm brushed against hers as he did so. She was positive he’d done it deliberately.
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Tara was saying. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to hire more help whether I want to or not.”
“You have that much business?” The second the question left her lips, Sydney realized how it might sound.
But Tara was just smiling ruefully. “Surprising, I know. But Weaver draws more people than you would think just from driving down our little old Main Street. I’m open seven days a week now, and—”
“And it’s too damn many hours,” her husband, Axel, said flatly. He was holding a squirming little boy who was clearly anxious to get down from his daddy’s lap.
“So speaks the King.” Tara held out her hands. “Give me Aidan.” Her husband immediately handed over the tot.
“Well, darling,” Jaimie inserted, “you are pregnant again. And getting more so by the day.”
Derek had returned and dumped three more enormous pizza boxes on top of the empties. Sydney watched with some amazement as eager hands reached out and threw them open, passing the food all over again.
“Thought you already ran an advertisement for some help,” Jaimie said.
Tara shrugged. “I did a few months ago. No takers, though.”
“Hire Sydney,” Derek said, sitting down once more beside her. “She was just telling Mom she needed something to fill her time.”
Sydney’s jaw loosened a little.
He gave a little frown that she didn’t buy for a second. “But then working in a local shop might be too tame for you, with your love of racehorses and ahhht.”
Chapter Three
He was watching her with those goading, green eyes.
“Not at all. I’d love to help.” The words came out of Sydney’s mouth before she could even form the thoughts.
She loved the surprised look on his face.
But when she looked beyond him, she could also see the shocked looks on the faces around her.
She had to admit that her encounter with Derek might have given him some reason to think she was a snob, but she didn’t think she’d given anyone else reason to think it. And if they weren’t thinking she was a snob, then they were thinking she was incapable.
She didn’t think she was a snob. She knew she’d been afforded luxuries and opportunities that many weren’t. She couldn’t change the wealthy parents she’d been born to, no matter how many times she’d wished otherwise.
But incapable?
That was a thornier issue altogether.
She focused on Tara, who was watching her with a puzzled expression. “I do have oodles of time on my hands.” For now, anyway. “And though I’m sure I’m not the most qualified—” she ignored Derek’s sudden cough beside her “—I’m willing to help out until you can find a person you’d prefer more.”
“Prefer!” Tara nearly sputtered the word. “Are you kidding me? You would be perfect!”
Now it was time for Sydney to return the shocked stare.
“J.D. has told me dozens of times how impeccable your style is,” Tara was going on. “I can’t wait to pick your brain.”
Sydney wasn’t sure what was more bemusing: J.D. thinking her style was impeccable, or that Tara was actually enthusiastic about having Sydney’s help. Feeling woefully self-conscious, she laughed a little. “I’m not sure what you’ll find, but you’re welcome to pick away. You could do that even without me volunteering to help at the shop.”
Tara waved her hand. “No volunteering. I’ll hire you if you want the job. Four days a week, to start, and the money’ll—”
Sydney absolutely didn’t want to talk money in front of all these people. Derek, most of all. “We can work that out later,” she said hurriedly.
“Great. Can you start tomorrow?”
Tara’s enthusiasm was hard to resist. “Sure.” Then Sydney quickly looked toward Maggie. “Unless I’m stepping on your toes.”
“Good grief, no,” Maggie assured her. “I’ll be able to drive down and see Early and Sofia for a few hours after all. My grandchildren,” she added. “Our other daughter, Angeline, and her husband, Brody, live in Sheridan.”
“And so does Maggie half the time,” Daniel drawled beside her.
She gave him a light swat. “I don’t hear you complaining about it,” she returned, laughing. “You’re worse than I am when it comes to spending time with the grandchildren. I figured getting down there a few times a month was doing good, but you want to go at least once a week.”
“All of Squire’s sons take after him,” Jaimie told Sydney. “But I think he’s still the worst when it comes to spoiling his great-grandchildren.”
“And meddling in the rest of our lives,” Matthew added, looking wry. “Damned old coot.”
Just listening to them made Sydney feel a little breathless. It was so plain how easily they spread their affection among each other.
There’d been family dinners among the Forrests.
But never one like this.
Her gaze ran over the jumble of informal pizza boxes and paper napkins accompanied by fine china and Waterford glassware. But it wasn’t even that eclectic mix of formal and incredibly informal that was so appealing to her. It was the easy acceptance of everyone who sat around that table. From squirming toddlers to squabbling teenagers to parents and grandparents. Everyone seemed to have a say and nobody was disregarded.
“Something wrong?” Derek was holding his longneck, his thumb picking at the label. “You’ve got a strange look on your face.”
She sat up a little straighter in her chair and folded her napkin over her empty plate. Funny. She didn’t even remember eating her salad. “I can’t imagine why. I was just thinking I’d never enjoyed a meal more.”
His thick lashes narrowed around those brilliant