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stirring my fork in the remaining sauce.
    â€œOne of the Sheridan men sure has hit it off with the flower girl,” the handsome older gentleman who’d introduced himself as Marcus Sheridan said from across the table.
    Sitting next to him, Luke elbowed his father. “Cut it out, Dad.”
    Marcus only laughed. “Sam sure has a thing for blondes, and this one isn’t too hard on the eyes, either. But I’m sure you hadn’t noticed.”
    Luke narrowed his gaze at his father but didn’t answer.
    â€œI know somebody who shouldn’t be paying attention to such things at his age.” Yvonne Sheridan leaned forward from where she was seated on Marcus’s other side and waved a warning finger at him.
    â€œMy eyes haven’t given out on me yet.”
    That little comment earned him another elbow—this time from his wife. Even Luke fought back a smile.
    The boy sitting next to me appeared oblivious to the conversation as he sat stirring the rest of his sundae into chocolate soup.
    I turned back to Luke. “Do you want me to clean him up? You’ll never get those stains out of that shirt.”
    â€œNo, I’ve got it.” He paused, straightening in his seat. “And you’d be amazed at the stains I can get out of clothes.”
    With that, he picked up a small canvas bag I hadn’t noticed him carrying into the restaurant and came around the table to his son.
    â€œOkay, buddy, it’s time.”
    Instead of asking “for what?” as I was tempted to, Sam popped down from his seat and followed his dad into the men’s room. When the pair reemerged minutes later, the boy’s face was scrubbed clean, and he was dressed in an identical polo shirt to the stained one he’d been wearing before. Even his hair had been combed into place.
    Sam pulled away from his dad and climbed back into the chair next to me. He scrunched his face into a nasty look. “My hair looks stupid.”
    â€œYou look great.” I brushed my fingers through his damp hair and looked up at his father. “What an amazing transformation.”
    â€œNot amazing,” Luke answered, though he was clearly pleased that I thought so. “We’re just prepared.” He held up the canvas bag, where he must have put the soiled shirt.
    Marcus waved a hand in Luke’s direction as Luke returned to his seat. “Our son took the Boy Scout motto, ‘Be Prepared,’ to heart when it comes to parenting. Always ready with wet wipes and extra clothes. Probably has a kitchen sink somewhere in that bag.”
    At his father’s challenge, Luke took a peek inside it. “Nope. But there are bandages, antibiotic ointment, liquid antihistamine and meat tenderizer.” He must have seen my confused expression because he added, “The last two are for bee stings.”
    â€œAs I said, always prepared.” Marcus’s deep laughter filled the room.
    When I looked up again, I found Luke watching me,his gaze lingering. I should have turned away—I knew that—but I felt pinned under the intensity of his study.
    At the reverberating thunk of a portable microphone, I jerked the way I used to when my mother caught me sneaking snacks before dinner. Looking away from Luke, I glanced guiltily at his parents, but their attention was on the portly, white-haired man who stood with the microphone in his hand.
    â€œHi, everyone. I’m Tom Wilder, the best man for this little shindig—last time and this one. I don’t know why, but this guy wanted me back again.” He paused to pat Jack Hudson on the shoulder.
    â€œIf there’s a third time, I might want to get that young Orlando Bloom to play my role since he looks a lot more like the original than this snow-topped version.”
    The best man got the laugh he was going for, but I had a hard time picturing the old Santa Claus character as ever looking like any of Hollywood’s leading men.