She cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “Loosely. I wanted to keep it open, depending on the produce available.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Khanti said. “You are way too organized for that!”
Celia faced Khanti, doing her best to ignore Dax. It was impossible, so she gritted her teeth. “I have some favorite recipes. Ones I know by heart.”
“Which ones?” Veronica asked, pouring herself another glass of wine.
“I can’t pick a favorite.” Dax dropped his hand to her leg again, under the table so nobody else could see. She’d never been good at subterfuge, and acting like Dax wasn’t driving her crazy was killing her.
Khanti narrowed her eyes in thought. “I liked the pan-fried spinach and persimmon best.”
“I preferred the pineapple and cucumber salad,” Veronica said. “With the toasty almonds.”
Celia looked at Nino, who shrugged. “There was salad?”
Dave snorted from the couch.
“What about the entrée?” Her voice sounded low to her own ears.
“I didn’t realize the lasagna noodles were eggplant,” Dax said. “If that’s a good thing or not, I don’t know. The sauce was really great. Same with the eggplant pizza.”
“Yeah, and quinoa with the angel hair cabbage,” Khanti sat back and patted her belly.
“Never mind. I can’t pick either,” Nino said. “I liked the meat, but it was all freaking awesome. It will be no problem getting the word out about your place.”
Veronica smiled and lifted her glass. “Ambrosia. Cheers, darling.”
“Thank you.” Celia’s joy in the evening had her laughing out loud. “I have two days before I open. I still don’t have a sign, or the stamp of approval from the inspector for the kitchen. Everything I’ve heard about Randall Wallace has me shaking in my boots. But for right now? This minute?” Celia stood up and bowed her head. “I feel like I’ve finally found my place in the world. Creating meals, and memories. Thank you all for sharing it with me.”
“That’s beautiful,” Veronica said, dabbing at her eye.
Nino and Khanti clapped and Celia quickly sat back down, her face flushed. She’d blame her speech on the wine.
“You won’t fail.” Dax’s whispered breath was hot against her ear. He made her wish for things besides the café. Like sex, for one. God, how long had it been? While with Preston, there had been a certain clinical satisfaction, but it was almost as cold as using a vibrator.
Somehow she knew that being with Dax, she wouldn’t care about anything but him. Them. He made her long for something new.
She put down her glass of wine before she did something stupid. “Khanti brought chocolates. Oh, and the salsa!”
“I snuck that in the fridge hours ago,” Khanti said. “It’s good, but you, Celia, are gourmet.”
“I don’t have room for anything, hon, not even your salsa.” Nino patted her back.
Dax sighed, rubbing his finger across Celia’s shoulder. She swallowed against the onslaught of sensation. His skin against hers. “We’ll have to get together again. Taco night.”
“Ask me tomorrow,” Khanti said. “I can’t think right now.”
“Should we go home, honey?” Nino asked, slipping his arm around Khanti’s waist.
“Dishes first. But I can’t get up.”
“I will do the dishes later.” Celia didn’t want to budge. Didn’t want the evening to be over. “Tomorrow.”
“No way are you doing those,” Khanti said, sounding ferocious.
“I will help,” Veronica declared. “Go home with your handsome husband.”
Khanti gave the model a death stare. “I am fine, thanks.”
❋
Dax melded to the chair. Celia could cook, and he’d do everything possible to make her cafe a success.
He liked that she leaned back, wanting to be in physical contact with him. He caught the lightly floral scent of shampoo from her smooth hair. Blonde and fine, like the delicate wisps at her forearms. She was soft, so soft that he couldn’t keep from touching her.
“So, Celia,” he asked to keep from thinking about kissing the freckle she had on the back of her neck. “What’s next on your list for the café? How can I help?”
She turned to bless him with a smile. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkling. “Spread the word,” she said.
“The sign.” Khanti sat, shrugging off Nino’s arm. “Randall Wallace is a jerk. Even my cousin Sujay was complaining about him raising the rent at the market.”
“What is the problem?” Veronica asked, leaning forward as if she meant business.
Celia groaned, burying her face in her hands before looking up again. “The guy who owns this town didn’t sign off on my signage, which delayed the inspection of the kitchen.”
Dax rubbed her back, hoping to ease her apprehension. Just the thought of how close she was to opening day had her tense. He knew a few ways to help her relax.
She jolted at his touch, then settled down.
“After tasting this feast, I can guarantee you will have non-stop customers,” Veronica said. “I know these things. I help Umberto sometimes with investments. If you want me to talk to Mr. Property Man, just give me his number.”
Dax figured Veronica might come out on top. Who else to take on a vain mogul, but another vain mogul?
“Give it time to work out,” he said, caressing Celia’s shoulders. “But you don’t have your stuff by Wednesday? I’d let her call.”
Veronica lifted her now empty glass of wine. “It would be my pleasure, Celia, darling.” She got to her feet in a graceful movement. “Point me to the sink.”
“Are you sure, Veronica?” Dax asked. Sometimes the woman surprised him. It seemed she liked Celia. Then again, who didn’t, really?
“I know how to wash a dish,” the model said with a toss of her long hair.
Khanti got up, too, and started to clear the table. Celia slowly stood, obviously not as enthusiastic about the dishes. “All right, all right,” she said with an adorable pout. “I suppose the magical night had to end sometime.”
Dax followed her into the small kitchen. Her blue dress had a ruffled hem that bounced as she walked. She’d kicked off her sandals, which were underneath the table. Her hair was in a bun thing, but a few pieces were loose to curl against the back of her neck. He’d liked winding them around his fingers.
Veronica, still in her heels, wore a dishtowel over one shoulder, and ran the hot water in the sink. Dax didn’t want to think about what might happen to the material if it got wet. Khanti searched cupboards for storage containers. Nino found another towel and spread it on the counter.
“The dishwasher is empty.” Celia bustled through the tight space to the window and the round table. “The dishes can all go in there, but the wine glasses will need to be washed by hand.”
They set up, assembly-line style, with Nino running commentary on everybody’s skill in the kitchen. Veronica washed and Dax rinsed dishes while Khanti and Celia sorted leftovers into various containers. The clean-up was done in no time, and allowed everybody a chance to get out of the food fog. When had he had this much fun with friends? Darcy was right-all he did was work, surf and take care of his dad.
“This has been awesome,” Dax said, catching Celia’s eye. Her hair had completely slipped from its bun, falling around her rosy cheeks. They’d been unable to avoid little touches all night, each ‘accidental’ brush of skin heightening awareness. Now was not the right time to feel attraction, but he couldn’t help himself. All Dax wanted was to get to know her better. “But I think it’s time to peel my dad off your couch.”
“And this Cinderella is ready to go home,” Veronica said, leading the way out of the kitchen to the living room area. She walked toward the vase, honing in on the one piece that obviously hadn’t come with the condo. “Tell me about this, Celia,” she said, pointing at the phallic-shaped vase as if it offended her somehow.
Celia’s chest
flushed pink. “It’s uh, well, a reminder.” Her shoulders lifted defensively and Dax stepped next to her.
Veronica picked the cylindrical flesh-colored vase up by the neck, inspecting it.
“It’s not anything valuable, but you should probably put it down.” Celia hurried over to Veronica and took it from her hands.
“I was being careful, Celia,” Veronica huffed. “I know how to handle fragile things.”
“It was something I picked up at a flea market. Someday I might tell you the story, but not now.” Celia put it back on the table next to the television and wiped her hands on the front of her dress, tugging the ruffled hem down past her knees.
“How mysterious,” Veronica said, her tones clipped.
Celia turned on her heel toward the couch. “I can’t believe your dad slept through this.”
Dax admired Celia’s changing of the subject and followed her to the white wicker sofa. “He’s always been a heavy sleeper. Usually in front of the television after a few beers.”
However, when Dax reached the cushions he didn’t like how pale his dad’s face was, or that his forehead was damp with perspiration. Dax leaned over and gently shook his dad’s shoulder. “Dad. Wake up, now.”
Nothing.
Dax shook a little bit harder, his stomach tightening in dread.
“Is everything all right?” Celia asked, her arm nudging his as she stood next to him. Her lightly floral perfume gave him something else to focus on besides this view of his dad as a man fighting a losing battle.
“He must be comfortable.” Dax patted his dad’s leg. “Rise and shine, old man.”
“Let him sleep, if you like,” Celia said. “He’s welcome. I’ll drive him home later.”
“Come on Dad, wake up. Unless you brought your toothbrush to stay over at Celia’s?”
Nino laughed. “That’s one way to go about sleeping over at a woman’s house.”
Nino’s laugh seemed to rouse Dave and his dad’s eyes fluttered. Dax released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Dad. How many times do we have to tell you that you need an invitation before spending the night?”
It took a few seconds for his dad to recollect where he was, and who he was with, then he sat up, embarrassed. “Sorry, Celia. I don’t drink wine anymore. Guess it knocked me flat.”
Celia gently squeezed his shoulder. “Dave, you can pass out at my place any time. You have an open invitation.”
“You got all the luck, Dad.” Dax joked to hide his worry, but it was clear that Dax had pushed his father too far. Working at the shop, dinner with friends. His dad had looked as if he were dying. My fault, Dax thought. My fault.
Chapter Twelve
Dax left Celia’s with a barely civil good-bye. After the secret caresses and heated temptation of the night, he’d seen the surprise on her face as he hustled his dad and Veronica out to the car without so much as a handshake. It wasn’t right to start something he couldn’t finish, and seeing his dad on the couch scared the shit out of him.
Veronica, oddly quiet, got out of the car as he pulled in front of the Blue Pelican. “Night, Dax. Dave. You don’t have to come up. I’ll be all right.”
Dax turned around in the front seat to face her. “Any word?”
“No,” she said, her voice tired. “They promised by tomorrow. Those two jackasses have no idea what they’ve done.”
“Text me,” Dax said, waving good night. The bellman opened the door for her and she disappeared from view, her gold fabric flashing in the fluorescent lights. He preferred blue. Like the color of Celia’s dress.
Dax turned to look at his dad, to ask what he thought of the night. His dad dozed in the front seat, his jaw slack, his chin forward. Had the wine interfered with the pain meds? The man had a glass or two, but no more than that. He’d flatly refused to bring his oxygen up to Celia’s, but he’d gone longer without it before. Things were changing. For the worse.
Dax shifted on the seat, which startled his dad enough that he jerked awake, blinking as he figured out what was going on. Truth was, it terrified Dax, witnessing his father’s declining health. “You don’t look good.”
“Is that any way to talk to your father?” His voice was sandpaper rough.
“I think we should go to the hospital. Have them check you out.”
“No. I want my bed. Rest.”
“We did too much today,” Dax said, guilt tasting like rotten fish in his mouth.
“I had fun,” Dave breathed in, his eyes partially closing. “Don’t ruin it, son.”
“Ruin it?” The man was dying!
“I had a good day. Living in the moment.”
Dax gritted his teeth. “So, no hospital?”
“Nope.”
“I’m sleeping at your place, then.”
“I don’t need a sitter.”
There was no heat in the words. Dax was staying. “We’ll see how you look in the morning.”
Silence. Dax thought his dad had fallen asleep again, but then he rumbled, “Celia’s a pretty woman. Nice. Good heart.”
“Yeah.” No time for a woman, even with a good heart. Not now.
“What’s her story? Why hasn’t someone snagged her up?”
Dax bowed his head against the steering wheel before driving out of the parking lot. There were times his dad’s thought process was severely old-fashioned. “She was married to a doctor, who died. She organized a cancer center for kids, in Ohio.”
His dad grunted. “Nothing good about Ohio.”
Dax chuckled, taking a left onto the road. “Celia agrees with you. She wasn’t happy, she said. She wanted to move by the ocean. Start over.”
“The sea offers that. Peace.” His dad coughed hard. As if it hurt. Dax was powerless to help him, so he kept his gaze forward and drove. His dad followed the bronchial attack with a cautious sip of air. “Your mother and I. We gave you a decent life.”
“Don’t talk, Dad.” Dax headed over the bridge and turned right, toward the house on the Intracoastal. “But yeah, you did.” He tightened his hands on the steering wheel, hiding his concern as best as he could. “I remember me and Darcy running over the sand dunes chasing crabs. You and Mom getting us up at midnight to watch the sea turtles nest. Mini lobster season.”
“Remember to tell Celia about that,” his dad said, clearing his throat.
His dad wouldn’t last until next July to tell her himself. “You do it,” Dax said.
His dad grimaced.
Dax pulled into the driveway, opening the garage with a remote. “Here we are.”
His dad nodded, holding his hand over his chest, his eyes closed as they sat in the parked garage. The lights on the car faded to black, and still they sat.
Dax waited, knowing his father had something to say. He braced himself for something awful. But what could be worse than dying?
“Darcy wants to come home,” his dad said in the near dark.
The garage retained the lingering hint of gasoline from the lawn mower, even with the car windows up. “Why?” Had his sister told Dad about her man troubles, when she wouldn’t share with her own brother?
“She doesn’t like the way I sound, she says. I think it’s got something to do with that professor she was seeing.”
His dad was sharp, all right. “What did you tell her?” Dax unhooked his seatbelt, which seemed too tight. Too constrictive. “If she comes home, even for a weekend, she’ll know something is wrong.” In the shadows of the dark garage, his dad’s face took on the sharp bones of a skull.
“Let’s see how I feel come morning.” Cough, cough.
They’d agreed, well Dave had forced Dax to agree, when discovering cancer hiding behind the scars from a lung infection to keep Darcy from the worst of it.
Dax leaned over the steering wheel, his hands on the dashboard so he could center himself. What to do? What step to take? “How do you feel-is it indigestion? Or your lungs?”
“I’ve gotta catch my breath.”
<
br /> His dad was stubborn, but Dax was in for the long haul. If the old man refused to seek help, then Dax was moving in to give it anyway. Decision made, he opened the car door. “Come on. I’ll rig you up to your big tank.”
“Yeah,” his dad said. “Let’s do that.”
It felt odd, sleeping in his old twin bed, but his room was right across the hall from his dad’s. He kept both doors open, listening. On guard.
Celia sent him a text, asking about his dad. A good woman? Damn, that didn’t touch the surface. Celia was sexy. Smart. She had a quiet sense of humor. She’d overcome a shit hand dealt to her, daring to start again from the ground up. The curve of her ass in that blue dress as she’d bent down to get containers from the cupboard came to mind. The softness of her skin behind her knee, the way her lips had slightly parted at his touch, hidden beneath the table. His groin tightened and Dax flung one arm over his head, turning on his side. He’d probably been a teenager in this bed the last time he’d felt this torn between sex, love and doing the right thing.
Dax didn’t answer her text.
❋
Celia tossed and turned, reliving her first dinner party in her new home. Her friends in Ohio had been chosen in regard to status and what they could do to further Preston’s career, or whether they’d bring in money for Langston Clinic. Cold, yes, but it was the way of that world.
Nothing like this one, where Dax’s dad had felt so comfortable he’d napped on the old couch. People had rubbed their bellies, and they laughed doing the dishes together. No maid, no cleaning service.
They’d liked her food. They’d loved her food!
Her stomach clenched with excitement and she pushed back the covers around five in the morning. “Might as well watch the sunrise,” she told herself, heading to her kitchen to put on the kettle. “A pot of tea.” A tablet, a pen. She’d list every last thing she had to do today before tomorrow’s grand opening.
Calling Julie was at the top of the list. She checked her phone, and saw that Dax hadn’t answered her text. She pushed aside her disappointment. Dave had seemed tired last night, and no doubt they’d gone straight home to crash.
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