“Other than the fact that I’m entirely sick of Mexican food, Abe might be in there. And he might accidentally-on-purpose drop a plate of enchiladas into Harlin’s lap if we’re together.”

“he lets me take the orders, standing at my side likemy own personal Mexican food encyclopedia”

“To fall in love with him even though I was right here?”“You’re not really my type, Abe,” I say.“I’m too handsome?” He grins.“Too evil.”

“Is it wrong that I’m wishing for congestive heart failure now?” he asks through the food.”

“Sorry,” I say to my father. “Hope we didn’t wake you. After last night, I wanted to check on Harlin’s arm.”He tilts his head like he is absolutely sure I’m lying. “And how is his arm, Elise?” he asks.“Uh . . . better?”My father stands motionless for a second, and then he shakes his head and walks into the kitchen. I hear the clink of cups, and then the running of water for the coffeepot.“That was a nice save,” Harlin says, sounding amused. “So detailed. Like a nurse.”“Shut up, Harlin,” I say, trying not to smile. “I didn’t hear you offer anything better.”“You sure you didn’t want to tell him we were playing doctor? That might have sounded more believable.”I turn quickly and swat at him. He laughs, dodging my swing, and catches my hand. “I would tackle you right here,” he says, leaning close. “Pin you and kiss you. But with the luck we have in your house, someone will walk in. And then what will you tell them?” he whispers. “That you were giving me CPR?”“Stop!” I slap his shoulder again.”

“Thought you said this was just dinner?”Abe opens the glass door and holds it for me. As I pass by him, he lowers his head so that his voice is close to my ear. “It’s never just dinner.”

“Have you seen my daughter?”“Daughter?” I’m the worst liar ever. I stare at Sarah’s tall, imposing father and try to smile. “She’s getting us a table?”He narrows his gray eyes, and then tightens his mouth. “Is that a question or a statement?”“Statement?” I’m so blowing this.He exhales and nods. “Well, then. I guess I’ll see you in the banquet room.”Harlin grins as Sarah’s father walks away. “You are so subtle, Charlotte. Are you a ninja?”“Shut up.”“I’m sure he didn’t find that at all suspicious.”“Harlin!”He laughs and kisses the top of my head. “I’ll stop,” he says. “But where is Sarah? You might want to find her before we sit down for chicken with that man. What will you say if he asks you to pass the mashed potatoes? Mashed potatoes?” Harlin finishes, imitating my voice.”