Before he could try shifting the subject by asking if they’d finally talked Norah into it—surely he’d have heard if she had— Corinne stepped into him. One arm slid around his waist, her fingers curling in his belt loop, her head tipping against his shoulder. “I’m delighted to say that he won’t.”
She spoke easily, her expression relaxed, her posture straight and tall. No prevarication, no trying to hide. With this move, she publicly proclaimed that they were together in a manner as efficient as taking out a billboard on Main Street.
Miss Delia popped Miss Betty’s arm with the back of her hand. “I wonder who won the pool?”
Corinne laughed. Outright laughed. And her smile, as she answered, was radiant. “That’d be Mama Pearl. But I’d say she had the inside track since she more or less set us up, so she might’ve recused herself.”
“There was a pool?” he asked.
Her smile flashed again. “Of course there was a pool. It’s Omar. He can’t resist.”
Where was this confidence coming from? And it was true confidence. He knew her well enough now to see the difference between the fake-it-til-you-make-it kind she’d used in high school. He’d spent so long watching her wallflower routine, he’d almost forgotten how vivacious she could be when she wanted. It was sexy as hell. She was sexy as hell.
“Tucker! So glad you could make it.”
Grateful for the reprieve from his less than G-rated thoughts, Tucker turned to shake the hand of their host. “Tom. I’d like you to meet my date, Corinne Dawson. Corinne, Tom Thatcher. He’s Miss Mattie’s gran
dson and the current owner of The Spring House.”
Any eyes that hadn’t already been on them turned in their direction.
Corinne didn’t flinch, didn’t shrink. She flashed her Homecoming Queen smile and took the hand Tom offered. “So nice to meet you.”
“If you’ll both come this way. I’ve got something special put together, just for you.”
Tucker laced his fingers with hers again and they followed Tom through the labyrinth of rooms making up the restaurant. At all the attention they gathered, Corinne kept her head held high, no hurry. Everything about her said I am with Tucker McGee and defied them all to make issue of it.
He loved every second.
Tom led them out the back and into the tiny greenhouse. A single table was set up in the center of all the lush greenery. Wide-bladed fans stirred the air.
“Oh, this is lovely,” Corinne said as they stepped into a private oasis.
“Isn’t it? We haven’t officially opened it to the public yet. We’ll use it for small events, receptions and the like. But for tonight, it’ll be for you. I thought perhaps you’d like to escape all the speculation.”
Tucker braced himself for the shock, but Corinne merely sank into the chair he held out for her.
“I expect we’ve added to it now,” she said. “But the quiet’s appreciated. Thank you.”
Tucker circled around to his own chair.
Tom handed over a couple of menus. “I’ll let you two look over these.”
He retreated, leaving them alone.
“I feel like I owe you a round of applause.”
“Why?” she asked. “For finding my spine?”
The self-deprecatory tone rubbed him the wrong way. “You have plenty of spine on any given day. I was just thinking confidence looks good on you.” His gaze skimmed over her again. “Right now everything looks good on you.”
Corinne set the menu aside and leaned back, crossing those long legs again. “It’s easy to be confident when you know what you want.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“You.”
She’d never been indifferent to him, and he’d known during their failed tango rehearsal that she was willing. But hearing her boldly state her interest, knowing he was the root of that new confidence made Tucker feel about ten feet tall and bulletproof.