Free Roses in June by Clare Revell Page A

straight here.”
    The maître d’ came back over with the grape juice. He opened the bottle and poured two glasses. “Are you ready to order?”
    “Do you trust me?” Gabe asked. As Dawn nodded, he glanced at the menu. “Then we’ll have the coquilles St. Jacques grillées et minestrone de palourdes to start with, please. We’ll order the rest in a few minutes.”
    “Very good, my Lord.”
    Gabe waited until the man was out of earshot before he looked at Dawn. “Yes, this place is horrendously expensive, but it has two Michelin stars so it would be. And, I asked you, therefore I’m paying. So pick whatever you want, and I don’t mean salad either. Unless you want a side salad then you can.”
    “What did you just order?”
    Gabe smiled. “Grilled scallops with a clam minestrone. But I can order something else if you’d rather.”
    “It’s fine, I’ll try anything once.” She frowned at the menu.
    “Their steak is to die for, which as Blake says is rather a waste. I’m going to have my usual, which is the canette rôtie, cuisses confites, jus au porto, et pommes mousseline with the oeufs à la neige for dessert.”
    “I have no idea what any of that means.” She lowered her voice blushing again. “I don’t speak French.”
    Gabe leaned forward and whispered. “Not a problem. That translates as roast duck with crispy legs, beetroot tatin and port sauce with mashed potatoes. With floating islands for dessert.”
    “Sounds good to me,” Dawn whispered.
    “OK.” Gabe sat back and raised his voice to a normal level. He beckoned over the maître d’ and placed their orders.
    Dawn tilted her head. “So, keeping with this being direct theme…it is good to know you’re a Christian.”
    Gabe reached for his glass and swallowed before answering. “I’m a sinner saved by grace,” he said honestly. “I fail Him on a daily basis, but serve Him as best I can nonetheless. I wish I could say I’m perfect, but that isn’t going to happen this side of Heaven. And maybe one day I’ll find a job serving in the church on a Sunday that I can do—my acting career tends to get in the way of serving on communion or the welcome team. It plays havoc with the rotas.”
    The starters arrived, and he reached across the table and took her hand to say grace. “What about you? Do you serve in the church at all?”
    “I help out in the crèche once a month with the under threes.”
    He picked up his fork. “Sounds like a busman’s holiday to me.”
    “Nah. I just love the babies, and I’m on the flower rota which I also organize.” Dawn looked at her plate, as if unsure where to start.
    He frowned. “Flower rota?”
    She grinned. “Yeah. The flowers don’t just appear from nowhere each week. There are a whole team of us that take it in turns to do them. Maybe I should add you to it. Just dump a bunch of flowers in a vase once every six months. I can easily slot your week around your filming schedule, if you want that is.” She prodded the scallop with her fork trying a small piece.
    “OK, I think I could do that.” He watched her screw her nose up. “Not a scallop fan?”
    “No.” She put her fork down. “Sorry.”
    “Do you want something else?”
    She shook her head. “Just to see you eat all of them.”
    He laughed. “Evil woman.”
    “Aye, that’s me in a nutshell.” She scraped her three scallops onto Gabe’s plate.
    “I might let you have one of my potatoes in exchange, but you’re not getting one of my floating islands.”
    Dawn pouted. “Then I want the wafer that comes with your coffee at the end of the meal.”
    “You drive a hard bargain.” But it was worth it to see her eyes light up. “Hang on. Aren’t I the one doing you the favor?”
    She laughed. “Too late now.”
    Gabe sighed. “Fine, you can have the wafer thing.” He kept the smile to himself. He never had liked wafer biscuits.

8
    Gabe walked up the path, a bunch of roses in his hand. This time he’d chosen lavender