A Wedding on Lilac Lane by Hope Ramsay (best book clubs .txt) 📕

to weep. Then in a flash, she’d segue to a tune that made him want to get up and dance, which was nothing short of astonishing because he was deathly afraid of dancing in public. She was that good.

He needed to change his assessment of Ella, and he needed to stop judging people so quickly. Maybe he’d spent too much time in Lauren’s company. His ex-girlfriend was exactly the kind of person who always wanted to know which clubs someone belonged to, whether they came from a wealthy or well-connected family, and how much they earned in annual income.

Ella was nothing like that. She had hidden depths that allowed her to channel deep emotion into her music. She wasn’t mean-spirited like Lauren. And she was every bit as beautiful, even though she wore army boots. In fact, Dylan was enjoying the hell out of the way the sea breeze floated her skirt, exposing the curve of her leg.

Whoa. Back off, boy. She’s your sister.

Almost. Sort of.

The reality of the situation should have stopped him cold, but the moment she climbed into the car, her scent—a heady mix of something exotic like sandalwood—tickled his nose and every one of the synapses in his brain.

By the time he pulled into the parking lot at Cibo Dell’anima, he was ready to put some distance between them. The woman made his head go fuzzy. Or maybe he was merely allergic to her perfume.

The new restaurant occupied an old brick storehouse at the corner of Ash Street and Harbor Drive, directly across from the commercial pier where local shrimpers sold their catches every day. The place billed itself as a new-age fusion restaurant blending classic Italian with traditional Southern soul food. Dylan regarded that as an impossibility, but one of his patients had recommended the place, and since it occupied an old warehouse, it had a party room upstairs.

It had been far too easy to get a reservation this Saturday evening on short notice though. And when he entered the dining room, he knew why. The place wasn’t exactly thriving, and the decor wasn’t new age anything. With its red-checked tablecloths and exposed-brick walls, Cibo Dell’anima could have been any of a thousand other Italian restaurants around the world. The only things Southern about the place were the vintage sepia-tone photographs of Jonquil Island covering the walls.

They sat down at a table near the front window, and Dylan got his first look at the menu. Everything from the antipasto to the desserts was overpriced, which explained why the college kids who had flooded Magnolia Harbor for spring break were conspicuously absent in the nearly empty dining room.

Ella picked up the menu, her brows knitting as she read, and the resemblance between mother and daughter hit him like a two-by-four. Or maybe his headache had returned with a vengeance. The concussion had been mild, but the come-and-go headaches were annoying.

“So, you’re unhappy with the menu?” he asked.

She shifted her gaze, the frown melting away.

“No,” she said, cocking her head. “What makes you think that?”

“You were frowning.”

“Oh, jeez, I’m sorry. I hope it wasn’t the frown-of-death.”

“What?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s an in-joke. You know, Cody used to say that I frowned when I was thinking.”

Would she ever stop saying sorry? What was up with that? “Cody?” he asked.

She turned and studied the traffic. “He was the leader of Urban Armadillo.”

“The outlaw band…” He drew out the words.

“Yeah. And you can go ahead and say it. The band’s name is awful.”

“I wasn’t thinking that.”

“No? What were you thinking?”

He couldn’t exactly tell her that he’d been studying her amazing eyes or that he liked the way the fire of the afternoon sun had gotten tangled up in her hair, or that Cody, whoever he was, was an idiot for letting her get away. “So was Cody just a guy in the band, or is he your ex?” he asked, and then regretted the question even though he wanted to know the details.

“He’s my ex,” she said, and then hid behind her menu. Served him right. He had no business prying into her private life. She wasn't a real sister.  And besides, his main mission was to dig up dirt on her mother. Not that this afternoon’s blowup hadn’t provided plenty of ammunition. But he couldn’t be overtly obvious.

“So, one of my patients recommended the greens and spicy meatballs.”

“Not a fan of greens, particularly,” she said.

“No?”

She looked up from her menu. “Salty and bitter. Not my thing.” She paused a moment. “You know, I’m not seeing a lot of fusion here. It’s like you can get pulled pork or you can get pasta.”

“Yeah. And I’ll bet the pulled pork isn’t as good as at Annie’s Kitchen.”

“Now, there’s an idea. What if we have a party and get Annie to cater it?”

“Okay, but where?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a native. You are.”

“Well, there’s always the big room at Grace Church,” he offered.

“There’s a big room there?”

He nodded.

“Okay, maybe we should check it out. And I can talk to Annie about her catering menu.”

“So we’ve nixed this place?” he asked.

She examined the uninspiring decor. “It’s kind of pricy, don’t you think?”

“Maybe a little. But I’m glad we agree. So I’ll call and see about setting up a time to look at Grace Church’s event space.”

“Great.”

“Now, how about we try the wine? We can celebrate your amazing performance today at Howland House.”

She responded to his suggestion with a smile as bright as a klieg light. It illuminated the dark interior of the restaurant. His praise had pleased her. He made a note to compliment her whenever possible. She needed to have her confidence boosted for some reason he couldn’t fathom.

“Thanks, but my performance wasn’t that amazing,” she said.

“I was impressed. And besides, based on what Ashley said, your gig is going to lead to more opportunities, and that’s a good thing. So, red or white?”

Chapter Eleven

Ella yanked her gaze away from the man sitting across the table from her. What