The Last Groom on Earth by Kristin James

make peace with Bryce. She was no longer the lonely, bitter girl she had once been. She was mature and could make a new judgment about the man, forget the old prejudices and dislikes.
    Bryce followed Angela down the stairs and out into the parking lot. He cast a doubtful glance at her sporty red Miata, but he climbed into it gamely. He even kept his lips firmly closed as she zipped in and out of traffic, driving with her usual speed, verve and skill. Still, he looked relieved when they reached the restaurant and stopped.
    The restaurant was in an old house in the University area, and except for the bold peach color of its walls and the green accents of its trim, Bryce would have taken it for a home. There was no sign proclaiming its name in front.
    As soon as they walked in the front door, a tall, thin man with a balding head greeted Angela gleefully. “Angela Hewitt! Carrie and I were just talking about you today. Said you hadn’t been in for a month. We thought maybe you’d crossed us off your list.”
    “Don’t be a dope,” Angela responded, giving the thin man a hug. “It’s only been a couple of weeks, anyway.”
    She turned toward Bryce, saying, “Max, here’s somebody I want you to meet—Bryce Richards. He’s here from Charlotte. A friend of my parents. Bryce, this is Maxwell Janco, the owner of this fine establishment.”
    “Co-owner,” the man corrected. “Eileen’d rip your heart out if she heard you slighted her.” He reached out and shook Bryce’s hand firmly. “Nice to meet you.”
    “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Janco.”
    “Hey, call me Max. Everybody does.”
    Max beamed at Bryce. He reminded Bryce of a crane, with his tall, thin frame, and the jeans and old white T-shirt that he wore only accentuated his thinness. His bony, pale feet were laced into sandals that looked as if they’d come straight out of the Bible. Perhaps in compensation for his incipient baldness, he wore his dark hair long in back, catching it up in a pony tail in the back of his head. He had twinkling dark eyes, and the lower half of his face was dominated by a long, luxuriant, old-fashioned handlebar mustache, waxed into an amazing upward curl. He was, Bryce thought, one of the oddest-looking creatures he had ever met, certainly nothing like how he envisioned the owner or host of a restaurant.
    “You want a table on the patio?” Max asked Angela, picking up a couple of menus and beginning to amble toward a door in the back wall.
    “You know me,” Angela replied. “I love the patio.”
    “You’ll have it all to yourself tonight,” Max said, agreeably.
    Personally Bryce had little enthusiasm for eating outdoors; he saw no reason to have to wave away bugs and listen to traffic on the street while eating his food. However, he held his tongue. He wasn’t about to spoil the fragile peace between him and Angela tonight.
    And when Max led them onto the small wooden deck, tucked away from the street behind the houseand further protected from noise by a high wall on one side, Bryce had to admit that it was a cozy and charming place to eat. There was greenery all around the small, intimate tables. Flowering plants hung from the overhead latticework, and ivy cascaded down the protective wall. On the two open sides, small shrubs edged the patio, and low lights scattered through the side yard gave one a view of a dainty garden, complete with goldfish pool. Discreet lighting placed here and there around the poles and latticework ceiling lent the patio a soft, romantic air.
    “Very attractive,” Bryce said politely as Max left them.
    “I think so. It’s my favorite restaurant. And the food is simply wonderful.”
    Bryce opened his menu and began to skim down the selections. He had been growing hungrier by the second as they drove over here. His eyes ran the list of salads, pastas and vegetable casseroles. He stopped and looked more carefully at each section. There were no steaks, no roast beefs, not even a