“Hey,” Brooke said as Ainsley started moving toward the door. “Those”—she pointed an accusing finger at the box Ainsley held—“are Darcy’s birthday present. I have an inventory list and I’m not afraid to cross-check it later.”

Ainsley rolled her eyes but grudgingly promised not to steal any. I couldn’t have cared less if she did, though. I was too busy drowning in heady delight that Brooke had referenced a future visit to my house. Was she one step closer to forgiving me?

Brougham and I walked Brooke most of the way outside, then Brougham showed Brooke where to go and grabbed my hand to slow me down. I glanced down at it, surprised at the unexpected contact. His hands were softer than I remembered them being. “Let’s stay out of their way. We’re awkward. We have to blend into the background as much as we can.” He steered me toward the kitchen.

“Speak for yourself, I’m not awkward.”

“No, you’re the person who viciously tore them apart out of jealousy, which is worse.”

“If you wanted to be in the background, we should’ve worn all black.”

“Yes, that would’ve done wonders to blend us into the background on this warm, sunny California evening.”

“Do you know arguing with everything people say is not cute? It’s insanely annoying.”

“Really?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I kind of thought you liked it.”

“Did you? So, you’re contradictory for my benefit?”

“Partly.”

“And what’s the other reason?”

“It’s great fun.”

I rolled my eyes as he bent to check on the oysters in the oven. “You think arguing is fun?”

He opened the oven and looked over his shoulder for an oven mitt. It was closer to me, so I grabbed it and handed it to him. His eyes sparkled before he turned back to his task. “When it’s with you? Definitely. Isn’t it for you?”

I was halfway through retrieving plates from his cabinet, and I paused, still bent over. “Well … I … it’s still annoying.”

“Huh. Well, I’ll stop then,” Brougham said, transferring oysters to the plates I held out.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “Just, do whatever you want. It’s whatever.”

He met my eyes and broke into a grin. I wasn’t even sure if I could call it a rare grin anymore. He seemed to offer them up with more and more abandon as time passed.

Outside, Ray and Brooke were leaning into the middle of the table, talking. Their faces seemed serious. They both jumped back and straightened at the sound of the door opening.

Ray grabbed the menu from the table and scanned it. “Oysters, huh?”

Brougham and I placed the food down, and Brooke snatched the menu from Ray. “Figs, asparagus, chili, chocolate, and strawberries? Darcy!”

“What?” Ray asked.