He kept her hand as they made their way around a row of beautiful ceramic pots filled with flowers that looked like they belonged in a painting, a stone wall covered in vines, and then into the heart of the garden. The fountain was smaller than Sloane had remembered but still picturesque. She imagined its wide outer lip could fit a princess who was trying to catch a frog to kiss. Straight out of a fairy tale.

Just like the greenhouse beyond it.

Steel and aged glass, fauna and flora well kept and yet wild, antique gold and green café tables and chairs. The wall facing them was nothing but two large accordion doors, pushed open so the people seated inside still felt like they were dining in nature.

Beautiful, romantic nature.

Sloane glanced up at Brady.

He looked good here. Holding her hand. A barely there smile as he took in his surroundings.

It was nice.

It was distracting.

“Wow,” he breathed out. “I guess I can see why almost every woman in Arbor Bay gets their panties wet about this place.”

Sloane shook her hand out of his. “Aaaaaaand just like that, you killed it for me.”

Brady laughed, following her around the curve of the fountain. On the other side, the party already in attendance came into view. Sloane mentally highlighted the nearest exit.

Carol’s best friend, Ruby, stood with a champagne flute in her hand, dressed like she was about to watch the Kentucky Derby. She was talking to the Robertson matriarch, Missy, who was a little less flamboyantly dressed than Ruby. A feat, considering Missy had donned a salmon-colored pantsuit and pearls. There was a woman sitting down between the two who made Sloane feel better about her lack of flair. She was in a polka-dot dress that Sloane knew came from Target.

Because she’d almost worn the same thing.

“I guess I should have grabbed my white linen suit, huh?” Brady’s breath tickled Sloane’s ear as he leaned down to whisper. It startled a gasp from her. All three women broke their conversation at the noise.

Then it was Sloane-hunting season.

“Well, it’s been a long time since we had anyone famous here!” Mrs. Robertson exclaimed, dancing out of her chair with arms spread wide. “How lovely for you to have come on such short notice.” Sloane was enveloped in a cloud of perfume before the older woman’s arms did the rest. “Bless your heart, how are you even coping with it all?” Missy broke the embrace but managed to grab Sloane’s hands. She held them with a look of extreme worry. “Because there certainly isn’t an off switch, is there?”

“There certainly is not,” Sloane confirmed.