If she happened to choose the second option, how risky could it be to have lunch together on a park bench in a public place?
Plus, it beat eating alone. With Stephanie up in Coos Bay exploring today, the house would feel empty without his aunt’s vivacious presence.
“I suppose I could give it a shot.”
Charley dipped his chin in approval. “Wise decision. He who hesitates and all that.”
Squeezing his fingers around the top of the bag, Zach left the stand behind and approached the bench, Charley’s last comment looping through his mind.
That old adage could work the opposite way too.
You could also lose if you moved too fast. People could get hurt.
Who knew which was best for him and Kat?
He could only hope he didn’t live to regret invading his reclusive neighbor’s space yet again.
11
“May I join you?”
At the familiar baritone voice, Katherine sucked in a breath, dropped the piece of fish she’d leaned down to give the gulls, and jerked upright.
Zach stood six feet away, holding a brown bag similar to hers.
Despite Charley’s assurance that no one in town would see through her disguise, her heart stuttered—although that reaction could have more to do with unruly hormones than the fear of being unmasked.
Short of being rude, however, how could she refuse his request? She didn’t own the bench, and there was ample room for two.
In response, she adjusted her sunglasses and scooted to the far end, pulling her bag along with her.
As if to accommodate the new addition to their trio, the two seagulls stood, waddled a few feet away, and snuggled up together on the sidewalk, keeping the human couple under surveillance.
Zach sat, put the water next to him, and opened his bag. “We finished your blackberry truffles yesterday. They were fantastic.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed them.”
“Devoured is more like it.” He uncapped his water. “By the way, that piece of fudge cake is waiting for you at The Perfect Blend whenever you want to claim it—no strings attached and no repayment necessary. You can’t come to Hope Harbor and not sample Eleanor Cooper’s claim to fame.”
She collected several pieces of purple cabbage that had spilled from her taco. “As a matter of fact, I almost came today—but I needed lunch more than cake.” Plus, she’d chickened out.
“Yeah?” He dived into his first taco. “We could swing by for dessert after we finish here.”
Her pulse picked up. “Aren’t you closed in the afternoon?”
“Yes—but I have the keys. One of the perks of being the owner.” He shot her a grin.
An intimate tea—or coffee—for two in his shuttered shop?
A delicious tingle zipped through her.
Get a grip, Katherine. Don’t put yourself at risk. Keep your distance.
Excellent advice.
She quashed the zing of attraction and nibbled at her second taco. “I don’t eat many sweets, as a rule.”
“I remember—but I thought you made exceptions for special occasions.”
The endearing dimple in his cheek was hard to resist. “What occasion would we be celebrating?”
“National spumoni day.”
A laugh bubbled up inside her. Spilled out. “Seriously?”
“Scout’s honor.” He raised his hand.
“How do you know that?”
“I’m a font of useless information. Comes from having to find a new quote every day for the board in front of the store.”
“I noticed that. It’s a clever idea.”
“The rest of the town agrees with you. I’ve had people tell me they drive by just to read the quote. I started doing it for fun, but now I’m stuck because everyone expects it.”
She poked a piece of jalapeño back into her taco, her mirth fading. “I know all about how expectations can turn something that was once fun into a chore.”
He stopping eating and cocked his head at her.
Too much information, Katherine.
Calling up a smile, she redirected the conversation before he could ask any questions. “What does national spumoni day have to do with fudge cake?”
He hesitated, as if he was considering whether to return to her previous comment. In the end, though, he followed her lead. “I don’t have spumoni, but the fudge cake is a worthy substitute. It isn’t in the same league as your truffles—not that I’d ever share that with Eleanor—but as chocolate cake goes, it can’t be beat. I happened to have two pieces left today.”
The appeal of sharing dessert with this man in his cozy shop, where they’d have no interruptions, continued to mushroom.
Stall, Katherine. Give yourself a few minutes to summon up the willpower to decline the invitation.
“I appreciate the offer, but why don’t we wait until we’re done to decide? The tacos are filling.”
“True—but I can always find room for dessert. Why don’t you tell me about making chocolate while we eat?”
She slanted him a look. Was his interest genuine—or was he merely trying to keep the conversational ball in the air?
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t interested.” He answered as if he’d read her mind, his tone serious as he spoke around a mouthful of taco.
“It’s a hobby.” She lifted her shoulders. “You like to cook, I like to make chocolate.”
He arched an eyebrow. “A complementary skill set.”
She had no idea what he meant by that—and she wasn’t about to ask.
Instead, she gave him a brief primer on the basics of chocolate making.
Other than asking a few astute questions, he listened without interrupting until she finished.
“I’m impressed. The tempering step seems tricky.” He stuffed the wrapping from his last taco into the bag. “How did you learn all that stuff?”
She washed down a bite of her second taco with a swig of water. “I’ve read a ton about it and taken a number of classes—both hands-on and online. Working with chocolate is actually quite challenging. Temperature, humidity, and a host of other variables can affect the outcome. I’ve watched hours of videos, practiced a lot, and signed up for a handful of seminars conducted by master chocolatiers during my work breaks. Those were amazing.”
“I can tell. I can’t see much of your face behind those glasses, but energy is crackling off you, your voice is animated, and I have a feeling your eyes are lit up.” He smiled at her.
Katherine processed Zach’s comment as she broke off a piece of fish and tossed it to the birds.
He was right about her enthusiasm. Chocolate making tapped into her energy and creativity far more than acting did these days.
Another worrisome reality to ponder later, in the quiet of Blackberry Beach.
Floyd picked up the morsel of fish, used his beak to break it apart, and pushed half toward Gladys.
Katherine did a double take. “That’s unusual. In the animal kingdom, it’s usually first come, first served.”
“True—but seagulls mate for life. Maybe they take care of each other.”
Like spouses did in a loving marriage.
Her lips curved up. “Whatever the motivation, it’s sweet.”