“Hey, David,” several voices called from behind me in the booth, and I mentally shook myself. I had almost forgotten the Libbies were there, and I certainly didn’t want to be kissing David in front of them. I would never hear the end of it.
“We were just trying to explain to Iris about the Lilac Festival,” Jill explained, pushing herself up to my side. Was I imagining it, or had she somehow managed to undo two more buttons in the last ten seconds? David merely grinned at me, his eyes dancing.
“Leave it to me, ladies,” he said, and I could practically hear the sound of ovaries exploding at his charming tone. “I’ll make sure she has all the details if you let her off her shift a few minutes early.”
Fantastic. Not only was I going to get out of a lecture on the town’s history, but he was saving me from lemonade duty, as well. As if any of them were going to say no to him about anything.
Sure enough, five minutes later, David and I were walking through the square, away from the Libbies’ lemonade booth, their giggles about his ass that wouldn’t quit following us across the lawn.
“Thanks for that,” I told him. “I wasn’t really in the mood for twenty minutes of town history.”
“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you under the impression I was lying back there? I take my responsibility to preserving island historical knowledge very seriously.”
I looked up, a laugh on my lips, to see that his face was entirely sincere. “Oh, Jesus,” I moaned. “Fine, go ahead. Kill me with boredom before our date even starts.”
“Speaking of that,” he said, coming to a stop. He took my hand, pulling me around to face him. “You look lovely, Iris.”
“Thank you.” Posey had been, if possible, more excited about my date than I was. She and I spent a solid hour that afternoon getting ready. I’d hoped she’d be at the Lilac—sorry, Flower Festival, but Paul had some medical networking party back on the mainland. She hadn’t seemed exactly happy about it when I left Lilac Ridge.
Before I could tell him any of that, he took my shoulders in his big hands and leaned down to kiss me, right there in the middle of the square. The Libbies booth exploded in catcalls behind us, and David laughed against my mouth. “I told you those ladies were a menace.”
“I should have listened.”
“How’d you get roped into this, anyhow?”
“There was alcohol involved.”
“I shouldn’t have even asked.”
He released my shoulders but took my hand in his, leading me across the square toward Main Street on the far side. “So where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. But we have a few minutes if you want to look around the festival a bit.”
“Sure.”
We walked from booth to booth, checking out the snacks and knick-knacks for sale along with multiple vendors selling flowers. As we went, David explained the importance of the festival. “So in a few weeks, we’ll have the Lilac Festival,” he said, “which is our oldest event and really important.”
“Why would you have a Flower Festival two weeks before the Lilac Festival?” I asked. “Isn’t that redundant?”
“It’s symbolic. Once the lilacs start blooming on the island, no one cares about any of the other flowers. This is their chance to shine before the real stars of the summer arrive.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “We have the Flower Festival so everyone can celebrate the tulips and the daffodils and whatever else is growing. Because once the lilacs show up, no one gives a damn.”
“Poor little tulips,” I said as we passed a particularly pretty bouquet of light pink ones.
“Indeed.”
“And why are the lilacs such a big deal?”
“There’s a legend,” he explained, “about how the lilacs got here. And that’s why the island has its name.”
“And you’re going to make me listen to it, aren’t you?”
He laughed, pulling my hand a little closer to his body. “Not tonight. Tonight, we have big plans.”
“Yeah?” I asked hopefully. “You going to tell me about them?”
“I’m going to show you. But needless to say, it’s going to be incredibly fun and impressive.”
I grinned. “I can hardly wait.”
Ten minutes later, we were standing in the middle of the senior center, and I was starting to get an idea of just what David considered fun and impressive. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?” he asked, pulling on a pair of blue and red striped shoes. “You don’t like to bowl?”
“In the senior center gym?” I asked incredulously. “With a dozen octogenarians. Including my grandparents. This is your idea of an impressive date?”
“What can I say?” he asked, grinning up at me. “I really know how to show off for the ladies. Here, put on your shoes.”
“We’re not even in a bowling alley,” I pointed out, sitting down and taking the shoes from him. I didn’t want to sound like I was complaining, but… “Why do I need special shoes?”
“I mean, if you want to try to bowl in those things, be my guest.” He cast a disparaging glance at my wedge heels. “It will just make my victory even more of a sure thing.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He thought it was a sure thing, huh? Apparently, David didn’t remember quite how competitive I could be. I pulled on the disgusting shoes and joined him at the front of the makeshift lane. “You know how to do this?” he asked.
“I’ll figure it out.”
He smirked, grabbing a ball from the rack separating our lane from our neighbors, and hurled it down the gym floor. “Nice shot, David!” my grandfather called from across the room.
“Thanks, Frank!”
“I cannot believe this,” I said to myself, sighing. I’d been daydreaming about this date all week. And we were bowling. In a gym. With Mimi and Pops.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked when I moved to grab my own ball.
“I thought it was my turn. Since you’re just standing there.”
“I’m waiting for my ball. This isn’t big-city Chicago bowling, missy. We don’t have a machine to return the balls.”
“You think there’s such a thing as big-city bowling?”
A moment later, Jerry appeared at our side, holding David’s ball. “Here you are, son. Oh, Iris! It’s so nice to see you!”
“Nice to see you, too, Jerry. How are the chickens?”
His face lit up. “Oh, just fantastic,” he began, but someone called his name. “Oops, better be off. Lots of balls to fetch.”
I watched as he shuffled his way across the gymnasium to gather someone else’s bowling ball. “This is the set up?” I asked, aghast. “Jerry running around picking up the balls?”
David laughed. “There are a few guys volunteering. They take turns.”
“Insanity,” I mumbled, but David ignored me and stepped up to the line. This time, he knocked down the rest of his pins. I didn’t know much about bowling, but he certainly looked pretty good at it. Or, at the very least, he looked good while doing it.
After Jerry trotted forward with his ball, it was finally my turn. “You know what you’re doing?” David asked.
“I throw the ball down there and try to knock over some pins. Not rocket science.”
He grinned, waving his hands toward our lane. “Then be my guest.”
I walked up to the line and glanced down the lane toward the pins, trying to decide on the best course of action. There was probably some kind to trigonometry involved here. Or was that pool? Before I could make up my mind, David was standing behind me, close, his breath warm on my neck. “Have I told you that you look cute in bowling shoes?”
I snorted. “You’re totally trying to distract me, mister.”
“You need to learn how to take a compliment, Iris.”
I stuck out my foot, as if to demonstrate how ridiculous I looked. My carefully chosen skirt and jacket combo wasn’t holding up well against the bright purple bowling shoe
s.
“Get out of my way,” I ordered, and David laughed, moving back to the folding chair at the end of our lane.
“You sure you don’t want any tips?”
“Shut up,” I said through gritted teeth, concentrating. Well. When in doubt, I supposed it was best to just throw as hard as possible. I let go of the ball with a grunt and watched as it sailed down the lane, bouncing once, before knocking over all of my pins.
“Yes!” I cried, raising my arms triumphantly over my head. “I’m winning!”
“Nice job, Iris, love!” Mimi called from across the gym, several of her friends echoing the sentiment. “My granddaughter,” I heard her saying in a carrying voice. “Visiting me from Chicago.”
I turned to grin at David. “Well?”
“Beginner’s luck.” But he was beaming at me.
“Very nice, Iris,” Jerry said, returning with my ball. He was looking decidedly red-faced now and more than a little out of breath.
“Maybe you should take a break, Jerry,” I told him.
“We’re almost done, anyhow,” he told me, grinning before trotting off again, much more slowly this time.
“Almost done?” I asked David, who walked over and took my ball, setting it back on the rack.
“We kind of showed up at the end.”
“But it’s only seven,” I pointed out.
“Which is practically bedtime for this group. Come on, I need your help with something.”
“I think you’re just trying to get me off the field,” I told him. “Because you know I’m going to beat you.”
“There’s no field in bowling.” He slung an arm around my shoulder and led me across the room. “But you’re right. I’m pretty sure you were going to kick my ass.”
It took a long time to cross the gym. Half the bowlers wanted to say hi, either to me or to David. Even the old ladies seemed to want a piece of him. I nestled into his side a little, feeling giddy. Everyone in town had something good to say about David Jenkins. And he had chosen me.
As his senior bowling date.
Just before we got to the edge of the gym, something happened to make my smile falter for the first time all night. Mae, the woman Posey and I had met my first afternoon in town, was in the very last row with her husband. Of course we had to stop and chat, just like we had done with everyone. It was when we were walking away that she said it. “I’m so happy to see you’ve decided to stick around, Iris.” She beamed, patting my shoulder. “Your grandmother is so pleased.”
Stick around. Is that what I was doing? Is that what I was going to do? A trickle of worry trailed through my chest. I hadn’t thought about Chicago in a long time. Sure, I had made a conscious decision to stay and help until the restaurant opened. But what about after that? I was going to be heading back at some point. I stole a glance at David’s profile. If Mae’s words had affected him, he wasn’t showing it. Was I making things more complicated by going out with David? After all, if I was going to leave soon…
Don’t think about that yet, I ordered myself. It’s one date. You don’t have to decide the rest of your life.
But as I followed him through the doors out of the gym, I couldn’t help but remember the look on his face when I had left last time. Was I about to do the exact same thing to him?
“Okay,” he said, his voice as light and unconcerned as it had been five minutes ago. He turned on a light, illuminating an industrial-sized kitchen. “You ready to earn your dinner?” he said as he slipped on a white chef’s coat.
“What is this?” I asked, trying to banish the intruding thought of his angry, sad face all those years ago so I could concentrate on this David, the one grinning at me across a stainless-steel counter.
“We’re making them dinner.”
“Who?”
He laughed. “The seniors. Who’d you think?”
“We’re making them dinner? All of them?”
“Well, technically, I already made it. We’re just heating things up. Come on. Grab an apron.”
David pulled several foil-wrapped pans from one of the huge fridges before he realized that I was standing still, gaping at him. “What? This food won’t prepare itself, you know. Grab the salad stuff.”
I gave myself a little shake and headed over to the fridge. So far, nothing we had done that night was anything like I had expected when he told me he would plan our date. I peered into the fridge, expecting to see a bag or two of iceberg lettuce, and instead, found a plastic bin labeled “salads.” I carried it over to the counter and looked inside, surprised by the quality of produce. I wasn’t sure this was the norm for mass-produced meals at senior centers.
“There are bowls over here,” he gestured at a cabinet with his foot, his hands busy stirring two huge vats that had been waiting on the stove. “Everything needs to be washed. And cut.”
“You know, David,” I told him, “if you’re not careful, a girl might get spoiled.”
His chuckle was gratifying as I got to work washing the veggies. After a few minutes, any complaints I might have had about the outing were muted. From my vantage point at the counter, I could watch as David worked. And I was quickly coming to find out that there was nothing sexier than David Jenkins in a kitchen. He stirred and he chopped and he mixed, all with a look of great concentration on his face. And every once in a while, he would grab a spoon and scoop up a taste of whatever he was working on. I’d had a similar reaction to him working in the kitchen back at Rose’s, but that was before I knew what the adult version of those lips, currently wrapped around a spoonful of dressing, felt like against my own.
“How’s the salad coming?” he asked.
“Almost finished.” By rights, I should have finished a long time ago, but it was hard to concentrate on what I was doing with him hustling around in his chef’s coat like that. I was feeling a little breathless, to be honest.
“Want help?” His eyes met mine, and I got the feeling that he knew exactly why I was lagging behind.
“Sure.”
Instead of coming to stand next to me at the counter, he slipped behind me, his arms coming around my sides as he reached for the knife, entrapping me in a little cage between the warmth of his solid chest and the cool metal of the table. “Let me show you how I chop an apple,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear. I didn’t bother to suppress a shudder of lust, and I could practically feel him smiling against my neck. “Knife skills are very important to a chef. We have to be good with our hands.” Those hands worked nimbly on the fruits and veggies still on my tray, slicing and dicing into precise shapes. I had an excellent view of his forearms as he worked, his muscles and tendons moving and straining under that perfect, tanned skin.
In an effort to keep from leaning forward and kissing those forearms, which was tempting but probably inappropriate, I cleared my throat. “You do this often?”
“Hmm?” he murmured, the breathy rumble of sound sending goosebumps down my arms.
“Cook for old people, I mean.”
“Every week.”
“You come to bowling every week?”
He chuckled softly. “I don’t usually bowl. I just thought you’d think it was funny. But yes, I cook for the center every week. I like it. Gives me a chance to keep my skills up a little, you know. I try to prepare things a little more complex than the sandwiches at the café.”
“I think you miss being a chef even more than you want to admit.”
His lips trailed against the skin of my neck, and I swear my heart stopped. “Maybe you’re right. That’s probably why I took that job at Rose’s.”
“What?” I turned in his arms so I could face him. “You did?”
He looked pretty pleased with himself. “Edward and Zane officially offered it, and I took it.” His eyes darkened slightly. “I figured it was time to stop hiding from something I loved so much, you know.”
I felt like I couldn’t breathe. His eyes were so intent on mine, his face so close. And still I could feel his
arms, those strong arms that were driving me to distraction, wrapped around me.
“Here,” he practically whispered, bringing one of his hands up to my lips. It took me a second to realize that he was holding something against my mouth. I opened it without thinking. If David wanted to feed me from his very hands, there was no way I was saying no. It was one of the apples, tart and sweet and cut paper-thin. “Don’t tell your grandmother, but I had those shipped in.”
I swallowed, trying to think of something halfway intelligent to say. Something that didn’t involve the words kiss and me and now. “Do you even grow apples on this island?”
His eyes were on my lips. “A few. But they aren’t in season for a few more months yet.”
“Oh.” My voice was barely a whisper. I could feel the heat from his body, so close to mine, and I couldn’t seem to stop staring at the place on his neck where the crisp white linen of his chef’s coat met his slightly stubbled skin. I had absolutely no idea what we were even talking about anymore. “That’s nice.”
“Let’s go,” he said, eyes still on my lips, and an explosion of joy seemed to erupt in my chest. He wanted to get out of here as badly as I did. But then he swallowed heavily, taking a step back. “We need to get this food out.”
“Oh… Right.” Funny, the food was the last thing on my mind. I tamped down a shot of disappointment so I could help him finish up, wondering if maybe I had imagined the fire in his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t as affected by the moment as I thought.
But as we pulled out plates and flatware to set up the buffet, he kept brushing past me, touching me in some small, barely noticeable way. His fingers on mine as he reached for a serving spoon. Bumping my hip with his as he reached for a bowl. And no matter where I went in that kitchen, I felt his eyes on me, following me.
By the time we were finished, I was ready to jump him right there, five feet away from the seniors bowling in the gym.
“Everything look good?” he asked, surveying the counter. I looked down at the food as if for the first time. I’d been so caught up in the building tension between us that I’d barely paid attention to what he’d actually cooked. Some kind of spinach-filled phyllo dough pastries were arranged on a platter next to prosciutto-wrapped asparagus skewers. The salad was tossed in a large silver bowl, filled with apples and walnuts and some kind of balsamic vinegar dressing. In the center of the counter were two pots of white chicken chili that smelled good enough to make my mouth water.
Where Your Heart Is (Lilac Bay Book 1) Page 19
