Damn, he’s hot. How in the hell could Armand and Sebastian be related?
She finished chewing, then set down her fork. “Kentucky.”
“Where in Kentucky?”
“Good luck finding answers, Gee doesn’t like to tell much about herself,” Armand said as he went back to the fridge. Gianna frowned when she saw him grab his third beer since sitting down. At this rate, he’d be passed out before sundown.
“Gianna?” Sebastian prompted.
“Oh.” She turned back to see Sebastian’s curious eyes. “It’s a small town called Berea; all of my mother’s family have lived there for generations.”
“Now why does he get answers, and I don’t, pretty girl?” Armand said as he stretched his arm over the back of her chair.
“You never specifically asked me what city I was from, Armand,” she said with a small smile. She took another bite of chicken, thinking that if she could keep her mouth full she wouldn’t have to answer any more questions. She picked up her glass of lemonade when Sebastian spoke again.
“So what brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“Work.” She took a long sip. “Do you want seconds?” she looked down at his empty plate.
“What kind of work do you do?”
“I design textiles.”
He frowned. “Want to run that by me again?”
“That takes more than a minute to explain. I’d really like to finish my meal.”
“See?” Armand exclaimed. “She keeps her cards close to her vest.”
She took a bite of her potato salad and watched as Sebastian gave his uncle an exasperated glance before getting up and taking his plate to the sink. He then opened the dishwasher, rinsed his plate and put it in, and started doing the same for the other dishes that cluttered the counter.
“Ophelia will take care of that when she gets back on Monday,” Armand said with a wave of his hand.
Sebastian ignored him and continued with what he was doing.
When Gianna was finished, she took her dishes up to the counter, trying to figure out how she could help. He gave her a sideways glance. “I’ve got this,” he said with an enticing smile.
“Can I help?”
“Sure, you can explain about designing textiles.”
She sighed. “Textiles can be fabrics for clothing, bedding, furniture, and wallpaper. The kind of textile that you design for clothing is going to be different than what you would design for wallpaper.”
“That makes sense,” Sebastian said as he scraped off two days’ worth of gunk from a plate. “So do you design for all types of media?”
Why did it take her by surprise that he used the word media? She gave him a fast glance out of the corner of her eye and he lifted an eyebrow. She’d been caught. He knew what she’d been thinking.
Blast it.
“It truly depends on what is inspiring me. I tend to design for bedding and clothing. I get my inspiration from the outdoors. It has done well for me.” She started opening cupboards and drawers to see if she could find a washcloth that she could use to start wiping down the counter.
“What got you into this? Did you attend school to learn?”
“My granny was basically doing this with her quilting. My great aunt did amazing designs with her loom, and they both crocheted and knitted, then there was my granny’s needle lace design. Both of them had nothing but boys, who had nothing but boys. When I came along, they crammed as much knowledge into me as they could.”
“What’s a loom?” Sebastian asked as Gianna found a washcloth and started cleaning the counter.
“It’s a machine to weave. They were selling items throughout three counties.”
“Were?”
“Aunt Ida is dead, and Granny’s arthritis has forced her to stop. But she works in Tina’s Treasures. It’s one of the best stores that represents a lot of the local artists in Berea. Since Granny knows pretty much everybody in town, she can speak to all of the local artisans’ works.”
Gianna looked over her shoulder at Armand and saw that he wasn’t paying any attention at all, he was thumbing off the label off his third or fourth beer.
“So you just grew up in the industry, no schooling?”
Gianna tipped her head to the side. “How about you answering some questions, Sebastian?”
“Why not?” He smiled as he put away the last dish into the dishwasher and closed it. He leaned back against the sink, crossing his arms and crossing his ankles.
Seeing the way his Henley shirt stretched over his broad chest, it took a moment for Gianna to gather her thoughts.
“What do you do in the Navy?”
“I’m with Navy Special Warfare,” he answered.
“What does that mean?”
Sebastian shrugged. “It’s like anything else in the military. It means I do whatever my lieutenant tells me to do.”
“Okay, since you don’t like that line of questioning, let’s go for something else. What do you say?” Gianna relaxed when she saw his lips tip up.
“So how long are you going to be visiting?”
“Don’t know. I have six weeks’ leave available, but staying here the whole six weeks doesn’t sound like a fun way to spend all of it,” he said as he glanced over at his uncle.
She shifted and leaned her hip against the counter so she could get a better look at him. “Yeah, but it will be better when Lazar gets back from Baton Rouge, won’t it?”
His expression darkened. “Oh, it’ll get more interesting, that’s for sure.”
“Did you come here to see him, or Armand?”
“Oh, I came to see Grandpère. He said he’d be here now. I don’t know why I’m surprised he’s keeping me waiting.”
“Maybe he was just caught at the capitol because of the hurricane,” Gianna suggested.
Sebastian’s mouth twisted. “Armand explained he had planned meetings there. Nope, this is just Lazar showing me that I’m here at his beck and call. I had forgotten how he ran things. Silly me.”
Gianna contemplated his words. She hadn’t seen that side of Lazar; he was always playing the perfect Southern gentleman with her. But she shouldn’t be surprised—that was the reason she was here, wasn’t it? It was to turn over the stones and see the sordid underbelly, and she knew darn good and well that Lazar’s underbelly was sordid.
“How long has it been since you’ve been here for a visit?” she asked with a sweet smile. According to everything Jada had discovered, Sebastian had left home and never come back. In fact, when Gianna had made this trip, she’d never accounted for Sebastian to be any part of the situation.
“I haven’t been home since I left at eighteen,” he answered. She took note of him perusing her intently. “How did you come by renting out the carriage house? I know that occasionally my grandfather would have guests there, but never to my knowledge did he rent it out.”
“It was really embarrassing how it came about,” she said. “He found me trespassing, about six weeks ago. I had no idea that I was on private property,” she lied, hoping he would buy into it.
“Why were you there?”
“I was sketching. It’s kind of what I do.” This time she was able to look him straight in his eye since it was the truth. “I get the ideas for a lot of my patterns from nature. I have spent years sketching the Appalachian mountains, but I saw some pictures of the bayou, and I fell in love.”