“She did.” The mention of Dorothy made Natalie think of Peach, and thinking of Peach while drinking champagne with Trevor made her feel guilty. And feeling guilty was irrational. What on earth did she have to feel guilty about?

“That was quite a moment when she blurted out that she hates her parents’ divorce. You handled it really well.” She pictured Peach’s face, his clenched hand on the arm of his seat—that quiet, helpless agony.

“You think?”

“Totally. You’re a quick thinker.”

“Thanks for saying so. No matter how many kids I meet, someone always manages to catch me off guard. When you hang out with kids, you never know what you’re going to hear.”

“You had just the right touch. You took her seriously but brought the smiles, too.”

“I doubt I made her like her parents’ divorce any better. So damn hard on kids. I was tempted to say the flip side would have been her folks staying together and fighting it out for a few more decades, but I didn’t want to go there.”

A server came forward with an amuse-bouche. The tiny bite of house-smoked abalone with nettle pesto on a rustic waffle chip took far longer for the server to describe than it did to eat. It was delicious, though.

“So,” Trevor said, savoring the next wine pairing. “Do you think the patient will live?”

She frowned. “Oh. The bookstore, you mean.” Now that she understood the state of her mother’s finances, she would need to gloss over a few things. One successful book signing with a hugely popular author had been an incredible shot in the arm, but even that wasn’t enough to dig the shop out of the hole she’d found it in. She summoned a smile, bright with hope. The success of today’s event was something worth smiling about, for sure. “You were a godsend,” she told him.

His face lit with pleasure. He really is dazzling, she thought. It was a singular feeling, being with someone who was so completely everything—kind and smart, handsome and funny. He seemed focused on not just helping her, but spoiling her rotten.

“Are you always this nice?” she blurted out.

He laughed, and his laughter was as charming as everything else about him. “Trust me, I can be a dick sometimes. Not now, though. The fact is, I’m way into you, Natalie Harper. Way.”

She laughed, too. “What’s that supposed to mean? Into me.”

“That’s me just trying to tell you, in my super-immature way, that I have a crush on you. It feels really good. I haven’t been with anybody special in a while, and when you came along, my heart just about exploded.”

She was too flabbergasted to reply. And then she found her voice. “I have no idea what to say to that.”

“Just say you’re excited about this amazing food.”