“Yes. How about my usual?”
The thought they’d known each other long enough for him to have a “usual” brought contentment she couldn’t describe. “Chicken Done Right. You’re on.”
Jumping into making Zack’s sandwich, she realized how fast with preparations she’d become since working the construction site in Little River Valley. There had to have been close to sixty people loitering around her truck, and she’d managed to serve them all within the lunch time frame. With fingers flying making Zack’s Chicken Done Right, a huge shadow at the order window grabbed her full attention. A holdout, huh?
This construction guy had to be six-six with shoulders like a refrigerator. He’d removed his hard hat and surprised her with shoulder-length ink-black hair, pulled back and tied with a leather string. From his appearance, she guessed he was Native American.
“I’ll take two Eat Your Veggies,” he said, surprisingly soft-spoken.
A guy his size, a vegetarian? “Buy one, get one half-off. Sure.” Her brows shot up. Though one of her healthiest wraps, it was the least ordered, and usually when it was, it was by the leaner types.
She quickly finished Zack’s order and put it on the counter for him to take without charge, then got right to work making the big guy’s lunch.
“Thanks,” Zack said as he grabbed and left, after talking briefly with the huge worker. “You still looking for extra work?”
“Yes,” the big man said.
“I may have something for you. Come talk to me later.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zack being referred to as a “sir” drove the point home about his being a lot older than her, but apparently, her heart didn’t give a hoot. Men his age were in the prime of their lives, she’d always thought. A few silver strands at the temples did remarkable things for men nearing and in their forties. But who had the luxury of standing around daydreaming about a man when she had mouths to feed!
She loved being busy, putting the wraps together, but she’d missed her chance for another gaze into Zack’s beautiful eyes with this last-minute order, and the twinge of regret surprised her. Was she ready for these kinds of feelings again? Maybe things were moving along too quickly? Thinking about their date this weekend put a smile back on her face. Apparently, she could hide out only so long without missing walking among the living again. No doubt about it, Zack made her feel alive.
“I’d like one of your banana puddin’ pies, too, please,” the big man said.
“Of course. Would you like more of anything?” She pointed to the assorted vegetable choices for his sandwiches, and he nodded at bell pepper strips, shredded zucchini and sliced roasted cauliflower as she piled it on.
“More cheese, please?” he said, with that surprisingly soft voice.
“Cheddar or Jack?”
“Both?”
“Sure.” Since no one was lined up behind him, he’d probably be the last for today, and there was no harm in being friendly. “What’s your name?”
“Benjamin. They call me Ben.”
“Would you like extra pickles, too, Ben?”
“Thank you. Yes.”
So polite. Sweet in nature. Maybe it was true about gentle giants. Or perhaps it was a cultural thing. Seeing him closer, she was positive he was Native American, and being in this part of the state, she wondered if he might be a Chumash descendent. But now, three more guys had lined up for a second helping of who knew what, so she didn’t take the time to ask.
“Here you go, Ben. I’m Lacy.”
“Thank you, Lacy.” He paid for and took his food and went to a tree stump in the broad sunlight to eat his vegetarian meal as she sold three more desserts and happily ran out of coffee for the first time ever.
By the end of her first day at the Santa Barbara site, she’d surprised herself with a new record of sandwiches sold, and, from the looks on the workers’ faces, customer satisfaction abounded.
Before she left, she snapped a picture of the ocean off in the distance and posted it. I’m branching out. Now serving wraps in Santa Barbara two days a week (T.Th.) Life is good!
She grinned, taking one last look around the work site before closing down and heading for home.
Since meeting Zack Gardner, things were certainly looking up.
Chapter Five
Saturday, the night of Zack and Lacy’s first date, Zack battled an onslaught of second thoughts. What made him think he was ready to date again? And how would Emma react to him taking over “her” friend, Lacy? This was territory they’d never explored together before, and though he thought he knew his daughter, he suddenly had no idea how she might react. If only he’d thought to talk to her about it.
It was too late now, because he’d gone ahead and made special plans and worked out all the kinks, except for one. Emma.
He and Lacy had agreed to have the late afternoon cooking lesson for Emma as usual. The only difference was that, since he wanted to take Lacy out for dinner and a movie, he’d arranged for Mrs. Worthington to come to share dinner and a movie with Emma, too.
For a guy who thought he was beginning to know how to read his daughter, when he watched her now, he didn’t have a clue what ran through her head. She seemed fine enough, interested in the lesson and, as always, happy to see Lacy, but who knew for sure? Tomorrow she might never want to talk to him again.
As if that wasn’t confusing enough, earlier when Lacy had walked in, dressed more for a date than a cooking lesson, he’d had to deal with first date jitters mixed with thoughts of how soon could they be alone. As he always did when completely out of his depth, he gritted his teeth and pretended everything was under control.
So far, he’d made it through the cooking lesson and the babysitter showing up. Still, thanks to the added stress, he hoped for a chance to retouch his deodorant before he and Lacy left.
“Okay, Shortcake, since the lasagna is in the oven,” he said, still having a hard time concentrating on food when Lacy looked so fantastic. “Now’s a good time for us to go.”
The moment she’d arrived in those black legging-style pants and the clingy gray patterned tunic with short cap sleeves and high waistband, as in right under her breasts, and a deep rounded neckline accentuating her breasts, his mind had taken a detour from cooking.
Lacy had worn a necklace, too, something he’d never seen her do before, and the blue and black beads of varying sizes rested on the creamy skin across her collarbone. Very distracting. He’d never wanted to be a necklace in his life, until now. She’d also pulled her hair back and to the side in a low ponytail and had wrapped a tendril of hair around the elastic. He didn’t know why, but that intrigued him, made him wonder what he’d need to do to unravel that hair and let the rest out. And those were the kind of thoughts that set him reeling, because he hadn’t let himself think that way since the separation and divorce. The long copper waves of hair over one shoulder teased mercilessly for him to touch them. He’d refrained for two reasons. She hadn’t said he could, and they’d been cooking. With Emma.
Emma, who by the way, had seemed a little sad when he’d told her he was taking Lacy out for dinner. Emma really liked sharing the meal after cooking it, and tonight Mrs. Worthington was the lucky one.
“In forty-five minutes, when the timer goes off,” Lacy said, bending to make eye contact with Emma as Mrs. Worthington looked on, “don’t forget to use the oven mittens to take out the pan.” She went out of her way to be thorough and help Emma understand the setup.
He liked that Lacy explained everything to Emma, not Mrs. Worthington. Since the cooking lessons were for his daughter’s benefit, it only made sense Shortcake would be in charge of the baking, too.
“Okay. And the salad is already made,” Emma said, catching on to the routine with a pleased smile. So far, so good. She hadn’t slipped him a single “why are you betraying me?” glare.
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“That’s right. And you did a great job on that.” Lacy squeezed Emma’s birdlike shoulder. She obviously believed in the hands-on approach, something Zack found endearing because of the positive way it affected his daughter. The kid had rarely gotten such attention from her mom. “Then, while the lasagna sets, you can put your rolls on the oven rack to warm. Five minutes should be fine for both the lasagna to set and the rolls to warm.”
Zack also got a kick out of her need to use her hands whenever talking. He wondered if she’d be able to carry on a conversation if they were tied behind her back. Yikes, that put a surprising image, one he wasn’t ready to explore in front of his daughter and longtime neighbor. Or Lacy, for that matter. He had no idea where they stood on any level other than that she’d accepted his offer to go out. Still, he reacted to her in surprisingly strong ways.
“What’s so funny?” Lacy asked.
Oh, right, he was amused by her overusing her hands to explain things, and that had led to that thought about hands being tied behind her back and... “Nothing. I’m just an observer, here.” Close call.
Her index finger went up, signaling another thought. “Oh, and use the oven mittens when you take out the rolls, too.” Fortunately, she was distracted giving instructions and didn’t notice Zack had gotten a little hot under the collar in a good way. A good and long-forgotten sensation. Gah, he was already in trouble and they hadn’t even stepped out the door.
Lacy looked Emma in the eyes as though calculating how much a ten-year-old could be counted on to follow the list of instructions. Knowing his kid, she was right in wondering about that.
“You want me to write it down?”
“I got it,” Emma said, as though she’d just been told the secret to life. Oven mittens rule. Use them.
“I’ll keep her on track,” Mrs. Worthington spoke up.
“Great. Thanks.”
Emma picked up the oven mittens, tried them on, turning her hands this way and that, then put them back near the oven. “It smells sooo good!”
“I know, I’m getting hungry,” Lacy said, giving a huge encouraging smile.
“Then why aren’t you eating with me?”
Uh. “Because we made plans to have dinner together at a restaurant, like I mentioned.”
She’d conveniently forgotten, but didn’t protest, just stood there considering his words.
Zack couldn’t help but hug Emma for being such a good sport. Somehow, during years of a rocky marriage and while going through a nasty divorce, he’d managed to raise a great kid. “Okay, then, are we good to go?”
“Have fun, Dad.” Was it his imagination, or was Emma growing up before his eyes?
He hadn’t tested her with dating since her mom had left. He’d had no idea how taking a woman out would go over when he’d run the idea by her, but she’d acted without a single qualm about her father’s new social calendar. Still he’d worried. Maybe she’d been secretly worried about him, too, wondering if he’d ever get a life again. So many of her school friends’ parents were divorced and dating, so why wasn’t he? Most likely, Emma approved because it was Lacy he was asking out, a person Emma knew and liked. Whatever the reason, relief washed over him, and when they finished hugging goodbye, Emma looked at him, her huge brown eyes filled with genuine joy. His heart squeezed tight enough to make the backs of his eyes prick. He cut that short, patting her narrow back. There was no way he would let Lacy see him tear up before their first date. What kind of message would that send?
“Now that we’ve got everything worked out, I’m going to use the bathroom really quick before we go,” Lacy said, grabbing her purse and heading down the hall. She’d been coming to their house enough to know where it was.
A few minutes later, when Lacy reentered the living room, she stopped abruptly. She’d obviously tidied up her hair and freshened her lipstick. Maybe it was the sweet citrus scent that rushed into the room along with her, but something took his breath away. Now, on top of all the other thoughts rolling around in his head, the strongest was how much he looked forward to this date.
Since Emma and Mrs. Worthington had forty-five minutes to kill before dinner would be ready, they’d gotten down to their favorite activity together, and Lacy had noticed.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to crochet and knit,” she said, sounding both impressed and envious.
“I’ll teach you,” Emma said, obviously tickled.
“You will?” Lacy said, equally excited and noticeably sincere.
“Sure, since you’re teaching me to cook, I can show you how to do this.” She held her latest project up for Lacy’s approval.
Lacy moved closer. “It’s your favorite color, I see.”
“Of course!”
“Is that sweater for one of your dolls?”
“Uh-huh. I’m growing out of playing with my dolls, so now I like to make clothes for them.”
More proof his little one was maturing.
“I’m so impressed,” Lacy said to Emma before glancing at Mrs. Worthington’s huge afghan project, while the woman mindlessly clicked her knitting needles, adjusting her glasses as needed and occasionally sucking her teeth. “Did you teach her?”
“My mama did,” Emma volunteered before Mrs. Worthington had a chance to answer.
Lacy glanced at Zack before she commented, as though getting his okay to pursue the topic. He gave a relaxed nod. “I always wanted my mom to teach me, but...”
Now her glance was sheepish, as though she hadn’t meant to go there. “Well, Emma is a great teacher, aren’t you, Shortcake?” He wanted to help Lacy out of whatever rut she’d inadvertently gotten herself into.
Emma, oblivious to Lacy stumbling on her sentence, nodded up and down, though her concentration was on the pink yarn and the silver crochet hook in her hands. An ancient look for such a child. “I’ll show you next Saturday,” she said from the couch, not missing a stitch.
“It’s a date,” Lacy said.
“And speaking of dates, are we ready?”
“Definitely,” she said, gazing at him with a contented look that managed to rev him up. He seriously needed to get out more because so far he’d been overreacting to everything about Lacy.
After they said another round of good-nights, Zack led Lacy down the driveway to his garage. The one flaw in his plan was Lacy had driven over to his house for the cooking lesson and so he wouldn’t get to walk her to her door later tonight. Why hadn’t he thought of that before now?
He’d made reservations at a cozy café in Ventura, the restaurant a revamped classic 1930s California beach cottage. Both near the beach and close to the theater for their movie, he’d decided it would be the perfect spot. Not to mention the homey atmosphere and great gourmet food. He’d asked his administrative secretary for a recommendation, and when he checked Harold’s Café out online, he knew it was the place to take Lacy.
He checked his watch, and they were early enough for a drive by the ocean before arriving for their seven-o’clock reservation. Spring was stretching out the days, but by the time they reached the coast, the sun was preparing to set, scattering tangerine and several shades of red hues along the horizon.
“I never get tired of this view,” Lacy said with a sigh.
“No matter how intense things get, I can count on that ocean to talk me down,” he added.
Zack gazed at Lacy, deep understanding about the Pacific Ocean and its cures arching between them. “You hungry?”
“Starving.”
As they drove inland to Harold’s Café, he filled her in on the story about a guy who’d come here as an immigrant over twenty years ago and worked his way up from washing dishes to running his own successful restaurant with a great reputation for sophisticated cuisine. She seemed as interested in the story as he’d been when he’d looked them up online. His main goal was wanting very m
uch to impress Lacy.
Later, Lacy was a believer as they traded bites of her chicken piccata and his medallions of pork tenderloin. Zack had a glass of deep red wine, and Lacy chose a sauvignon blanc to go with her chicken. They sat in the section of the house toward the back of the small restaurant that obviously used to be a bedroom. Appropriate for where his mind had been going since first seeing her today. He’d count their dinner seating as another coincidence but would keep it to himself. The walls had been brought down to chair rail level and, along with several windows opening to a side yard, the small room felt intimate instead of tight. Just enough for four other tables for two.
He couldn’t remember being this excited about getting to know a woman since he’d first met his ex-wife. But thoughts about Mona were the last path he wanted to go down tonight, not with bright eyes sitting across from him. The muted light of the café accentuated the dimple in her chin, and he found himself staring once too often.
“Sorry,” he said when she’d caught him the last time. “I just think you look so pretty tonight. Can’t help myself.”
She blushed, as she always did when he paid her compliments, which he really liked. “You do know you’re exceptional looking, right?”
Her eyes went wide. She blushed deeper. “I grew up getting called Raggedy Ann and Ronda McDonald-head.”
He shook his in disbelief. “Kids are so stupid.” He hoped Emma wasn’t being called names and not telling him.
“Being a redhead isn’t for sissies.” She grinned as she put the last bite of the chicken in her mouth.
“I think of you as a woman who knows what she wants and how to get it. And I’ve got to admit, I like your unorthodox way of going about doing it, too.”
“Are you referring to my pink food truck?”
“I might be.” The lingering gaze they shared turned into one of the most intense moments Zack had experienced since he’d been a young bachelor. He might be pushing forty, but that youthful desire was still going strong, and it put a mischievous smile on his face. Flirting was fun at any age.
Cooking Up Romance (The Taylor Triplets Book 1) Page 8
