by Lynn Rae
She’d stayed up too late the night before editing, and she kept confusing the video of Nate with the live person she was catching glimpses of behind the pass-through. He was working hard and fast, and she doubted he’d spotted her since she was seated at the farthest stool from the kitchen. She could see his profile whenever he leaned forward to speak with the waitress, and his hands were always popping into view when he set plates up on the counter. They were nice hands, no argument there. Big and long-fingered.
Resisting the urge to look at her watch or the clock hanging on the wall over her head, June took a sip of her mediocre hot tea and told herself to be patient. There weren’t many people left at the counter or tables, so he’d be able to leave soon. Some quiet time would allow her overactive brain to relax. She wanted to stop worrying about her brother, her grandmother, and her future slipping away but staring at a calendar filled with commitments wasn’t helping.
There was a loud comment from the waitress, and June looked away from her cup to see the blocky woman push through the swinging door and disappear into the kitchen. More raised voices and the door swung open, and Nate emerged, wiping his hands on a towel and staring at the front door.
“She’s not there, Rita. What—” He glanced at the inhabitants of the dining room and stopped speaking when his eyes met hers. June swallowed and sat up straighter. A grin curved across his mouth, and he walked her way, settling himself onto the stool next to hers. He was close enough she could smell bacon and melted butter on him, and underlying both was warm male. All those scents mixed together were pretty potent, and she grabbed the edge of the Formica counter to steady herself so she wouldn’t tip off the stool and land on the white tile floor.
“Hey, you’re here early.”
“By only about fifteen minutes.” June wanted to look away from his warm, blue eyes but found she couldn’t. She envied the dark lashes that surrounded them, and when he quirked a grin and that dimple appeared on his cheek, a ticklish flutter worked its way down her throat, to her belly, and then back up again.
“So, you have time to eat. What can I make for you?”
“Nothing, I’m not—”
“Sure you are. Let me surprise you.” He leaned even closer and glanced at her mouth. Oh, she wanted a surprise in the worst way.
June nodded in agreement since she was having sudden difficulty with dry lips and a dizzy swirl in her head. As he rose from his seat, Nate’s hand strayed to her back. Just a quick touch sliding a few inches from her shoulder to the start of her ribs, but she still jumped at the contact. Maybe she had low blood sugar.
She allowed herself the guilty pleasure of watching him walk away, his stride easy and assured. June took a breath and a sip of tea in that order.
The waitress came back out and buzzed past customers to ask if she needed more hot water. At June’s agreement, she whisked the little stainless-steel teapot away and moved behind the counter to put together a replacement, all while giving June an evaluating look.
“So, you and Nate are going shopping?” Rita, according to the name tag pinned to her yellow blouse, asked as she walked over and slid another pot of hot water and a paper-wrapped tea bag to June.
“Just for pretend. At the produce stand out on 117.”
Rita nodded, her expression amused. “Wonder what they have out there? Anyway, you two have fun.”
She gave a little wave and moved off to refill the coffee cups of a couple at a booth. June unwrapped the tea bag and dropped it into the hot water. A new worry emerged. What if there wasn’t enough photogenic produce available? Maybe blackberries, cucumbers, and spring onions? New potatoes? Well, she’d have to make it work regardless of how limited the offerings.
The swinging door clattered, and she looked up to see Nate emerging and carrying a plate. He headed her way and placed it in front of her with one hand, while the other reached around to push her planner out of the way. Rather than stare at him and lose her train of thought, she looked down to see a thin, off-white crepe, crispy gold around the edges. No fillings or toppings were visible, and she risked a look up at him and raised her eyebrows in a silent question.
“You could try it without an explanation.”
“Don’t fancy chefs stand there and describe every last ingredient in a dish when they bring it out?”
“I’m not fancy.” He sank onto the stool next to her and spun it a half turn one way and back, his legs spread enough that she couldn’t help noticing the long muscles of his thighs under the faded denim of his jeans. “Take a leap of faith.”
“In you?”
He nodded while a wicked curl emerged on his lips. Damn, she wished he wasn’t sitting so close to her. “Go on. Do it. Be adventurous.”
That was probably the same tone he used when he convinced someone to have sex with him. Not that it probably took much effort. Trying to send him an exasperated look was difficult when all she wanted to do was blush and stammer.
June picked up her fork and addressed her plate. She cut into the crepe and identified eggs, avocado, papery green flecks, and some sort of greenish sauce. Nothing alarming, so she took a bite. Sweetish egg, creamy avocado, and a spicy mayonnaise melted over her taste buds, and she cogitated. There was another familiar flavor in there but it eluded her. She took another bite, bigger this time and tried again. It was strangely delicious but not quite what she’d expect for breakfast.
“What do you think?”
“Delicious, but what’s that fishy flavor in there?”
He smiled and propped one big hand on his knee as he leaned her way, his arm curving around her like a barricade.
“I think you can figure it out if I give you a hint. Those eggs are prepared like tamagoyaki.”
Understanding dawned, and June laughed. “It’s seaweed. Nori. You made a Japanese crepe.”
“I even used rice flour.”
“Nate, this is a great dish. It’s so inventive.” June meant her compliment. “You just happened to have these ingredients lying around back there? This diner is trendier than I thought.”
He shook his head and spun on his seat again, his knee coming close to her thigh. “I’ve been bringing in stuff for experiments when things are slow.”
June was impressed. “And you came up with this recipe on your own?”
“I did. After we did the omelet stuff, I was thinking about how you said you liked sushi. I’ve been practicing crepes for a while, because they’re trickier than pancakes, and this morning it all sort of came together,” he recounted his process with a slight hesitation and not his usual relaxed cadence.
June wondered if he was insecure about his abilities. He had to be thinking about those chefs he’d be competing against. Most of them had probably gone to prestigious cooking schools and had lots of experience putting ingredients together in new ways designed to impress sophisticated foodies. Nate’s audience was diner patrons who expected greasy hash browns and extra crispy bacon.
“I think it’s genius. I love it.”
There was a pleased light in his blue eyes, and she couldn’t resist grinning at him. “Is there anything missing or too much of something? I’m still working on it.”
June took another bite, surprised to find most of the crepe was already gone. “It might be good with those fake crab leg things.”
“Surimi?” Nate tilted his head as he considered her suggestion. “That’s a good idea since crab is good with eggs. I’ll have to get some and try it at home. Maybe you could come over and…”
A faint buzzing sound from the kitchen interrupted him, and he stood up suddenly. “Be right back.”
June watched him rush back to the kitchen, and she allowed herself to feel good for the moment. Nate Garner might be young and dangerously charismatic, but he had a sweet side she found even more attractive. Just thinking about how he’d called to check in on her the night before had made her feel special all day. Not that she was. She knew he’d probably had a free pass with most of the single la
dies of Palmer, and his friend Heather seemed possessive, so she wasn’t even considering anything personal, but it was nice to feel he cared.
Rita came by and collected her empty plate. “So, what was it?”
“Sort of a sushi crepe.”
The other woman affected a look of horror that made June laugh.
“He’s always trying to get me to eat some oddball thing. Last week it was pickled carrots, and before that it was something made of smelt, or spelt. I can’t remember. Thank goodness you were here today to take the bullet. No way I’m going to eat raw fish.”
June refrained from telling Rita that sushi didn’t necessarily contain raw fish.
Nate appeared with another plate and made a beeline to her. In the interim, he’d removed his apron and white cap and looked even more handsome. This time, he deftly closed her planner before setting down the plate. June sighed when she looked down at what he served her. Golden-brown, puffed cups filled with sliced fruit and a dusting of confectioner’s sugar sat like little jewels on a large white plate. One had a small candle stuck in the center, and as she glanced up at Nate, he pulled out a match and lit it.
“Happy belated birthday. I know I missed it by at least a month.”
June shook her head, understanding his intention. “My birthday isn’t in June.”
His face fell. “Sorry, I just assumed—”
“Everyone does. My parents never did the normal thing.”
“So, when is your birthday?”
“February.” At his perplexed look, she laughed, finally appreciating how absurd her name was.
“I understand why they didn’t name you that. Blow out the candle.” Nate gestured at the plate, and she returned her attention to the dessert rather than stare at his mouth.
“What are they?” The sugary aroma drifted up, and she sniffed it in.
“Pancake puffs. Just batter in a cupcake tin and baked. They expand as they’re cooking and then the middle collapses. Gives you a little cup for fillings.” Nate leaned against the counter and watched as she sliced into one and took a bite. Slightly chewy with a hint of vanilla, the pancake puff was the perfect accompaniment to the sweet and tart kiwi and strawberry slices inside.
“Oh, these would be good with whipped cream. Or Nutella.” June took another bite and sighed again. How was it possible Nate didn’t have scores of women following him around begging to be fed?
“Want me to get you some? I have both in the back.”
She shook her head. He’d already done enough running and fetching for her. Rita wandered over, and Nate offered her one, which she accepted. She seemed to have the same delighted reaction as June, and Nate grinned in triumph.
“Did you show these to Don? I don’t see why we can’t put them on the menu. That fish crepe thing won’t fly, but this one’s a winner.”
Nate shrugged, and June slid the plate at Rita. “Here, give him one. She’s right, Nate, they are delicious. You did a great job.”
After clearing his throat and rubbing his hands together, Nate spoke up. “No big deal, just saw it online. Should we get going?”
June stood up and walked toward the cash register, sure she felt Nate’s hand brush against the small of her back. When she asked how much she owed, he waved her off.
“With everything you’re doing to help me, it’s the least I can do. In fact, I still owe you a lot. How about I fix dinner for you some night, as a thank-you?”
“Let’s hold off on that until you get a look at the final product. It might be so bad I’ll owe you an apology.”
* * * *
Nate won the argument over who was driving to the farmer’s market by claiming he wouldn’t fit in her small car. He was unaccountably pleased to have June sitting next to him in his truck. He only wished it was in better shape. The dashboard was sun faded, and there was a rip in the upholstery on the seat between them, but she didn’t seem to notice as she watched the scenery go by as they drove out of town; her canvas tote planted between her feet. She kept her shoulders straight and had her hands folded on her lap.
“What did you do today?” Nate wanted to wince at how lame he sounded.
“Lots of chores. Boring stuff like laundry and going to the post office. Took my grandmother to the bank.” She stopped looking at passing houses and trees and turned his way. “Were you busy at the diner?”
He nodded. They were busy every day, which was great for job security. The owner would sometimes come to the back to help if he was swamped, but today he’d managed to keep up on his own. Working with Rita helped; she was the best waitress there. None of that would be interesting to June, so he scrambled for something to say, ideally funny enough to make her smile and laugh. “We’d probably have been a lot quieter if I’d served that sushi crepe to everyone.”
She laughed and nodded. Score. “Rita reacted badly when I told her about it. I really liked it though. It’s a great dish. Maybe you can fix it on the show.”
“That’s assuming I even get on. I’m afraid to ask, but how bad does the audition stuff look? You said I might not like it. I look stupid, don’t I?” Nate couldn’t decide if he even cared at this point. Dealing with his mother, and guilt over possibly leaving Becky on her own, overshadowed his ambition.
June shook her head. Something glittered at her neckline, and he remembered the line of tiny pins he’d noticed when he’d sat next to her at the counter. Three little brass bees barely noticeable on her shirt. She wore the strangest jewelry. “You don’t look stupid at all. You look, ah, great.”
Was she blushing? Nate wished he wasn’t wearing sunglasses so he could check her out. In any case, he had a great opening now. “I look great?”
“Come on, you aren’t fishing for compliments, are you?” June pursed her lips and shook her head. “I’m sure you are told several times a day, by women you don’t even know, that you are, well, attractive. You don’t need me to verify it.”
Oh, but he did need her to notice him, to let him know she liked him. June was more subtle than he was used to, and he had to pay attention. He liked how she threw out little zingers when she sat there as primly as if she were at a ladies’ tea.
“It never hurts to get a compliment. I’ll start. You look very nice today, June Sinclair. I like your shirt.”
Her pursed lips widened into a smile. “I’m wearing a faded, plain blue sweater.”
Despite its flaws, it clung very nicely to her breasts, and the shade made her eyes sparkle, but he couldn’t say that at this stage of the game. That sort of comment was for pre-seduction, which he wasn’t quite ready to break out. Not at four o’clock in the afternoon in the middle of downtown Palmer. “Come on, it’s your turn.”
Sighing, she turned and looked him over as obviously as possible. She was probably going to compliment his shoelaces. She made a little humming sound, and he wondered what it would feel like if she did that while he was kissing her, if she had her mouth on another part of his body—
“Red light!” June cried out, and he slammed on the brakes just as the light at the south end of the square turned red. He really shouldn’t be thinking about foreplay while he was driving. He mumbled an apology and wondered if he was ever going to get the green light from her.
With a left turn, they were pulling up next to the produce stand located in the big parking lot of the hardware store. It was a wooden shack on wheels that a local farmer parked there in the spring, as soon as radishes were ripe, and pulled away after Halloween before the snow fell.
Nate unfastened his seat belt and turned toward June and found she was staring at his hand. He glanced down to find one of his burns was bleeding. He’d accidentally brushed his knuckles against the hot metal grill when he’d shifted the bacon press that morning, but it hadn’t seemed too severe at the time. He hoped she wasn’t squeamish.
June leaned his way and frowned. “What happened to you?”
“Just a burn, no big deal.”
She shook her head and reach
ed into her bag. Before he realized what was happening, she had a plastic box open on the seat and was rummaging around amongst a wealth of first-aid supplies.
“What do you have in there?” He was fascinated by the neatly arranged kit. What else did she carry in that bag of hers?
“Just basic stuff.”
“Looks like more than that. Is that a tourniquet?” He pointed a finger at a rubbery band half hidden under some gauze pads, and she grabbed his hand before he could touch it.
“I take the Red Cross first-aid course every year,” she declared as she scrubbed at his blisters with a sanitizing wipe. It stung, and he didn’t want to flinch so he kept talking.
“Are you sure they told you to rub that hard?”
“I work around kids; accidents happen. Did you disinfect this? You don’t want to get an infection right before you fly off to California.” She peered at him with serious eyes, and he wanted to lean over and kiss her until she crawled into his lap and sent bandages and ointments flying.
Nate shook his head. He got burns and cuts every day and barely noticed the pain. Having her fingers on him was an entirely new experience. Very nice. June let out a little huff of dissatisfaction as she turned his hand to look for more injuries.
“Oh, that cut,” she said as she pointed out a scratch on his thumb he’d made the day before, courtesy of a zester. Her fingers smoothed along his wrist as she moved his arm, and he wished he had a boo-boo he could show her on his cheek, near his mouth. One she could kiss and make better.
She pulled out another wipe and went to work on his other hand and arm. She clucked as she encountered old wounds.
“So many scars. Your poor hands.”
“They’re fine; it’s part of the job.” The more she touched, the warmer he felt. The cab of the truck felt like it had sat outside for two days in the blazing, late-summer sun of August, not the balmy July day it was.
“All right, tough guy. I’m fixing the bad ones.” She pulled out bandages and got to work. Daubs of ointment, careful application of colorful strips…
