The Chef's Choice: The Chef's Choice. Kristin HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
good to see you. Howya doing?” he asked from behind a table covered with baskets of tomatoes.
“Good. How’s Jenny?” she asked, thinking of his neat, compact wife.
“Good, thanks.”
Damon walked up to the stand to look at the tomatoes gleaming ruby red in the sun.
“Nice.” He picked one up, nodding to Pete. “Hothouse?”
“Yep.” Pete adjusted the NAPA cap on his grizzled hair. “Early Girl beefsteaks."
Damon sniffed the tomato he held and put it down in favor of another, turning it over in his hands. “How many greenhouses?” he asked.
“Two. Careful how you handle that.”
“What’s the square footage?”
Pete’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You lookin’ to buy my tomatoes or my greenhouse?"
“Pete.” Cady stepped forward. “I want you to meet our new chef at the Sextant, Damon Hurst. Damon, meet Pete Tebeau."
“The new chef? Why didn’t you say so? Pleased to meetcha.” Damon found his hand enveloped by a hand the approximate size of an oven mitt. “Does that mean we’re not going to see you here anymore, Cady?"
“If I’ve got anything to say about it. Not that seeing you isn’t the highlight of my day, Pete.” She grinned at the guy and suddenly she looked young, mischievous and downright pretty.
And Damon kept his jaw from dropping, only just. She was flirting with the guy. This scratchy-tongued woman who had turned being a curmudgeon into a holy calling was joking around, chatting up a guy old enough to be her father.
“The highlight of your day? You’d be amazed at how many women tell me that.” Pete didn’t miss a beat.
Cady snorted. “You better hope Jenny doesn’t get wind of it.”
“She’s the one who says it most of all.”
It had all the hallmarks of an old game between them. It had all the signs of a long friendship. And he couldn’t stop watching her.
“So, how are the plans for the big weekend?” Cady asked.
Pete’s eyes gleamed. “Great, thanks to you. We’re in one of your cabins, harbor view, they said."
“I’ll make sure Lynne puts you in guesthouse two,” Cady said. “It’s got the prettiest view of the water. You can sit out on the deck in the morning with your coffee. Jenny’s going to love it."
“I hope so. I want her to be happy.”
“After twenty-five years, Pete, I think you can be pretty sure she’s happy."
“Yeah, but she’s had a rough time lately, what with losing her dad and all.” He took his cap off and turned it around in his hands. “I want to give her a special anniversary, something she’ll remember."
Like a weekend at the Compass Rose, Damon translated. “You’re coming to the inn for your anniversary?” he asked.
Tebeau nodded. “This weekend. Usually I just take her out and buy her a lobster. I figured twenty-five years deserved something more, though. This young lady helped."
The young lady in question flushed and looked away.
“Tell you what,” Damon said. “Come to the restaurant for dinner while you’re there. I’ll make you a special meal. Off the menu, I mean, just for you two. What does your wife like to eat?"
Tebeau thought a moment. “Garlic, shrimp, crab cakes. And mushrooms,” he added.
Sometimes you just had to go with your instincts. Damon picked up two baskets of tomatoes. “I know just what to make for her. You know anyone who sells ramps here?"
“Ramps?” Tebeau took the tomatoes and set them on the scale.
“Wild leeks. White flowers, green leaves about so big.” He measured. “I sauté them up with morels and asparagus and you’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven. If I can find them. Got any ideas?"
“Maybe.” Pete took the money Damon offered. “Old Gus Cattrall next door to me, he’s got all kinda stuff growing in the woods over on his place."
“Great,” Damon said. “Does he have a stall here?”
Tebeau shook his head. “Naw. Mostly he just sells stuff out of a cart on the road. Never seen him put out—what did you call them, ramps? But if he’s got ‘em growing, I bet he’d be happy to let you pick them yourself."
“Just tell me who to call or where to go.”
Pete handed Damon his change and loaded the tomatoes into a box. “Thing is, Gus isn’t likely to cotton to strangers walking around his property. He knows you, though, Cady. You’d better come instead."
“Me?” she asked blankly. “But—”
“Sure. This guy’s got my curiosity up. Why don’t you come over to my place tomorrow morning about six? We can catch Gus before he gets working. If he’s got any of those ramps growing you can bet he’ll know where and we can just pick ‘em. Easy as pie."
“Easy as pie,” Cady said under her breath. “All right, Pete, sure. As long as you’ve got time."
“Absolutely.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Damon—” she directed him a thunderous look “—we’d better get going."
He had better sense than to argue. Cady marched to the end of the row in silence, though he could see from the set of her shoulders that she had plenty to say. He figured he’d just wait her out.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“Happy with yourself?” she demanded as soon as they were out of the square.
Now was not the time to smile, he reminded himself as he followed her down the street. “Happy why?"
“Oh, you got your trip to the market, now you’re going to get your wild onions."
“Leeks.”
“Whatever.” She stopped beside her truck. “You’re good at getting people to do what you want, aren’t you? You’re a regular puppeteer."
He couldn’t help laughing at that as he set the tomatoes and mushrooms in the truck bed. “I’m flattered that you think so much of me."
She glowered. “Oh, I think of you, all right. I think all kinds of things about you."
“Good.” In the sunlight, her hair gleamed cinnamon and copper. He could see a light dusting of freckles on the bridge of her nose. “You know,” he said as she opened her mouth to continue, “for someone who tries to come off so tough, that was a pretty nice thing you did for Pete."
She stared at him, momentarily disarmed. “He’s a friend,” she muttered finally. “I want them to have a nice time."
“They will, thanks to you.”
“And you,” she said, then blinked as though the thought had ambushed her.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe you just said something nice to me."
The flush that spread across her cheeks made her look even more delectable. “Don’t try to distract me."
There was something that kind of delighted him about that bemused look she got on her face when she felt she was losing control of the situation. “Oh, I don’t know, I’m beginning to think distracting you could be interesting. Very interesting,” he added.
He reached out, then, to touch, running a finger across her cheek to her chin. Softer than he’d expected. She might dress and act like a tomboy but Cady McBain was all girl. Her eyes flashed