by Terri Osburn
“Don’t forget the parachute,” muttered a tiny woman wearing oversized clothes who was quite possibly the most beautiful human Lauren had ever seen. She dropped down onto the seat and forced Lauren to scoot in. “That man has got to be carrying something.”
“That’s mean,” scolded the blonde who slid in next. “Nick is a nice guy. Mia says he doesn’t deserve that reputation.”
Another blonde who looked very similar to the first sat down on the other side of the table. “She’s his sister. She has to say that.”
Squeezed in next to Roxie, Lauren felt both overwhelmed and claustrophobic. When invited to a Sunday brunch with the girls, she’d accepted only because Roxie had refused to take no for an answer. She’d even tried backing out once learning the location, but the bossy brunette wouldn’t hear of it.
“You’re scaring our new friend,” Roxie said, silencing the chatter. “Time for introductions. You know Will,” she said, starting on her right. “Then we have Beth Chandler, my cousin and the nicest person you’ll ever meet. Next to her is Henri Bloom, who writes steamy books and is Callie’s cousin.” A slender black-tipped finger pointed to the person two down from Lauren. “That’s Callie Edwards, mother of three, including brand-new twins, and a total super woman. Sid is the one next to you,” she finished.
“Are you not going to say anything else about Sid?” Beth asked.
“Relax, curly,” the woman in question mumbled into her menu. “Rox is still pissed that my truck is faster than her car.”
“I had to slow down to avoid the cat,” Roxie argued.
“You shouldn’t have been racing in the first place,” Will pointed out.
“Weren’t we talking about Nick?” Sid said, reaching for the bucket of peanuts in the center of the table. When her arm proved too short to touch the rim, Callie moved the bucket closer. “Thanks,” the smaller woman said.
“He is attractive,” Beth pointed out. “Joe says he’s against commitment, though, so I’d be careful if you’re looking for more than a good time.”
All eyes turned to Lauren, who took several seconds to realize they were waiting for her to weigh in. “I’m not looking for anything. From Nick or anyone else.” A collective groan echoed around the table. “Did I say something wrong?”
Henri chuckled. “These ladies are all married and were hoping to live vicariously through you.”
“I’m not married,” Roxie corrected.
“You might as well be,” Beth said. “It’s nice to meet you, Lauren. Welcome to Anchor Island.”
“Um…thanks.”
Georgette returned to the table to take the newcomers’ drink orders, and everyone gave their food order as well since they were familiar with the menu. Lauren was not and quickly scanned the options. The offerings were dominated by seafood, as expected. They were on an island, after all. Her turn came before she’d skimmed to the end so she went with the last item she read.
“I’ll have the crab cake, please.”
“Entree or sandwich,” the waitress asked.
“Sandwich.”
“A side?”
Lauren quickly found that section. “Hush puppies is fine.”
“You’ve got it.”
As the server moved on to Sid, Lauren took a moment to take in her surroundings. Dempsey’s was not lacking in color, despite every surface, from tables to chairs to floor and ceiling, being made of polished wood. Neon lights and various alcohol brand advertisements dotted the walls in what she could only describe as organized chaos. License plates from all over the country lined the beams that ran from front to back the length of the room.
The place was homey, welcoming, broken in, and full of character. Lauren’s penchant for fine dining did not make her immune to the rustic charm of the place. She’d never worked in a sports bar, but plenty of small family-owned establishments could take up space on her resume if she ever decided to include every job she ever had, which would require multiple pages.
The longest she’d worked in one place was thirteen months. Lauren had never been outright fired. Either her fellow cooks had made her life a living hell until she could no longer tolerate the stress, or her employer had cut her hours to the point she could no longer make a living.
Though Lauren had made no real attempts to fit in, she’d also not gone out of her way to alienate people. That skill just came naturally. Lucky for her.
“Where are you from originally, Lauren?” Beth asked, drawing her attention back to the table.
“Boston,” she replied.
“Will’s from Boston,” Sid pointed out. “Did your families know each other?”
Lauren wasn’t aware they’d come from the same town. “I’m not sure. What area are you from?” she asked her boss.
“We moved around quite a bit when I was young, but my mother’s family is from Back Bay-Beacon Hill.”
Lauren was glad she didn’t have a drink in her hand. She’d likely have dropped it in her lap or done a spit-take across the table. Back Bay-Beacon Hill was the wealthiest neighborhood in Boston, which was already one of the richest cities in the country. Lauren’s life in Worcester had been one of poverty, not wealth.
Rationally, Lauren knew that growing up poor did not define her, nor did it make her inferior to any of the women at the table. Yet deep-seated insecurities had a way of making a person feel small no matter how hard they fought to suppress them.
“Then no,” she said, dropping her gaze. “I’m sure our paths never crossed.”
“It’s a big city so that’s not surprising,” Beth offered. “I almost moved there once. I was all packed to go, but then Joe showed up at my door and I guess the rest is history.”
“Come on, curly. Tell her how you and Joe met,” Sid said before yipping in pain. “What the—”
“How are the twins, Callie?” Will asked, changing the subject and leaving Lauren curious about Beth’s story.
“Exhausting,” the new mother replied. “This is my first week back to work and though it’s only for a few hours a day, I hate being away from them.”
“You get used to it,” Sid assured her. “Lucas had a terrible time leaving Pilar for even an hour in that first year, but she’s so happy at the daycare that now it’s totally natural.”
“Pilar?” Lauren repeated. “Like the restaurant?”
“Sid is Randy’s sister,” Will explained, “and Pilar was their mother’s name. We named the restaurant after her.”
“Don’t try to tell my child that,” Sid said. “When she saw the new sign the other day, she couldn’t stop talking about how Uncle Randy named his ‘restant’ after her.”
“Then we won’t tell her otherwise,” Will said with a laugh.
“Here we go, ladies,” their waitress said, returning with a large tray on her shoulder. With practiced ease, she slid it onto the empty table next door and started passing out the dishes. Once everyone had their meals, the chatter ebbed to quiet conversations between neighbors. With the odd number, that left Lauren eating in silence.
Halfway through what she had to reluctantly admit was an impressively delicious crab cake, Roxie bumped her shoulder.
“You okay?” she asked.
Mouth full, Lauren nodded.
“They’re a lot,” Roxie whispered, “but they’re really cool.”
Having no grounds to argue, Lauren nodded again and Roxie returned to her conversation with Will. Taking another bite of her crab cake, she couldn’t help but sigh with pleasure. The texture was perfect. The acidity just right. Glancing toward the bar, she caught Nick watching her through the window to the kitchen. A dark brow arched in silent question, and she raised her fork in an approving salute.
The smile that split his face threatened to stop her heart, and a second later he disappeared from the window. Her mind raced back to something Roxie had said before the others arrived.
He hits on everyone.
Well, not everyone.
4
Believin
g the end of his life was near did not mean Nick would help move things along. He’d been eating clean since his mid-twenties, and thanks to the island farmer’s market, he was able to find fresh fruits and vegetables throughout the year. Farmers, along with weekend gardeners, made the trip from the mainland once a month in the winter and twice a month from spring to fall. Nick shaped his diet around whatever was in season, which in April included beets, leeks, chard, and fennel with a dash of arugula and cilantro thrown in.
Strawberries would arrive soon, which meant his smoothies would improve considerably. Greens were good, but even better with fruit in the mix.
Nick examined a bushel of collard greens. “Looking good today, Cai. I’ll take these.” He handed over four bunches of the leafy greens.
“You’ve got it, Mr. Nick.” The farmer slid the vegetables into a small brown bag and snapped a rubber band around the middle. Originally from China, Cai Qian knew every customer on the island by name and never failed to greet them with a smile. He also traveled the farthest distance to reach the market, but kept his prices competitive with the other vendors despite the added overhead.
“How is the summer squash looking?” Nick asked. “Do you think you’ll have some available next month?”
“Yes, sir. The squash is looking beautiful.” After handing over the greens, he gave a thumbs-up. “Almost ready.”
Making his baked Parmesan coated squash rounds always signaled the beginning of summer for Nick. “Looking forward to them.”
Tucking his change into his pocket, Nick turned to leave, only to collide with another shopper. The collard greens hit the floor as he reached out to steady the person and found his hands wrapped around Lauren Riley’s waist. They stared at each other in shock for several seconds before she jerked back, forcing him to let go.
The warmth of her body continued to resonate against his palms.
“I’m sorry I—” she started.
“I didn’t—” Nick said at the same time.
“…see you,” they both finished.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He’d hit her pretty hard and though Lauren was tall, she was slender. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head and tucked a platinum lock behind her ear. “No. I’m fine. I should have been paying more attention.”
“No, I should have looked before I turned.”
Feeling like a preteen who’d brushed against a girl for the first time, Nick bent to pick up his greens. Lauren did the same and they collided again, this time with their foreheads. He jerked back up to find her holding her head and, to his surprise, she was laughing.
“I didn’t think you did that,” he said, bending to retrieve the greens.
“Do what?” Lauren asked.
“Laugh.”
She sobered and light brows drew together. “I’m not a robot.”
He remembered the feel of her in his hands and had to agree. “It’s nice.”
“What is?”
“Your laugh.”
Crossing her arms, she tapped a finger on her elbow. “Are you finally hitting on me?”
The finally threw him off. “Excuse me?”
“Roxie said you hit on everyone, but you haven’t hit on me.”
Until this moment, he’d never regretted the reputation he’d carefully cultivated since arriving on the island.
“You and Roxie are both wrong. I don’t hit on everyone, and I’m not hitting on you.”
Lauren straightened. “Why not?”
“Why not what?”
“Why aren’t you hitting on me? What’s wrong with me?”
If she was trying to confuse him, she was doing a bang-up job. “You want me to hit on you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I think you did.”
She huffed as if he was the one being difficult. “I’m just curious, that’s all. If someone said you give candy bars to everyone but you didn’t give one to me, I’d be asking the same question.”
To appease her curiosity, Nick said, “You’re a chef.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t hit on chefs.”
Holding his gaze, she looked to be assessing the truthfulness of his answer. “So if I wasn’t a chef, you’d hit on me?”
If he said yes, he was the horndog Roxie had made him out to be. If he said no, he’d be lying.
“Is this your way of hitting on me?” he asked.
Lauren bristled. “I am not hitting on you.”
“But you want to.”
During their previous encounters, she’d been an expert at hiding her thoughts, so watching her struggle to maintain that cool demeanor through this conversation was highly entertaining.
“To be clear,” she said, “I am not hitting on you. I do not want to hit on you. And I don’t want you to hit on me.” The icy glare returned. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
“I could show you around,” Nick said. The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying.
She met his eyes and he could see the tension in their blue depths. “Around what?”
“The market.” Nick waved to encompass their surroundings. “Some of these vendors offer larger shipments for the restaurants. You’ll need the connections, and this would give you a good opportunity to find out what’s available to build out your menu.”
Indecision softened her features as she glanced around. “I would like to line up some suppliers.”
“Then now’s your chance. Follow me.”
Nick led her down the center aisle and around to the larger stands outside the pavilion. Knowing that proteins would be her most important ingredients, he headed straight for Martha Dowry’s stand.
“Hey, Martha. I have a new customer for you.”
The older woman looked up over the rim of the small round reading glasses that were ever-present on the tip of her nose. Sharp green eyes locked on Lauren. “I’ve never seen you around before.”
“I’m new,” Lauren replied.
“From where?” Martha asked.
“Boston.”
With a huff of derision, Martha crossed her arms. “What can I do for you?”
Nick made the introductions. “This is Lauren Riley. She’s the new chef over at the old Marina restaurant.”
“It’s called Pilar’s now,” Lauren added.
Thin lips settled into a hard line. “What kind of food do you plan to make?”
“Sophisticated fare that offers visitors to the island something more discriminating than what they can get right now.”
Both brows shot up as Martha shifted her gaze to Nick. “More discriminating? She hasn’t been here long, has she?”
“A little over two weeks,” she answered for herself. “I’m sure there are tourists who would appreciate a dining option a level above what’s already available.”
The two women embarked on a staring contest and Nick was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Martha was old school. She didn’t like city folk, as she called them, nor was she the fine dining type. But she did admire grit and a strong work ethic. Both of which Nick had no doubt Lauren possessed.
“What’s your best dish?” Martha asked, breaking the silence.
“I don’t have only one best dish, but a favorite is cock crab and poached lobster with a bouillabaisse sauce.”
Not a surprise coming from a New England chef.
“I prefer scallops,” Martha replied.
“Then you’ll have to come in for my Dived scallops with charred leeks in an onion broth. Provided I can find a supplier for them.” The display between the two women was covered in various seafood options, and Lauren’s eyes cut to the scallops on the right. “These look good.”
As if signaling the end of the battle, the older woman grinned. “I’ve got the best scallops from Norfolk to Hilton Head. Buy from me and you’ll be set.”
“Do you have a business card?” Lauren asked.
“I can do you one bett
er.” Martha bent over, disappearing behind the stand, and then popped back up a second later. “A magnet.” She handed Lauren a bright red, crab-shaped item. “Stick that on your fridge or file cabinet so you’ll always know where to find me.”
The corner of Lauren’s mouth lifted as she accepted the magnet. “I’ll be sure to do that.”
The pair said their goodbyes and moved on, with Martha yelling, “Call me!” as they left.
“Is everyone a character around here?” Lauren asked, eyes on the magnetic crustacean in her hand.
“Pretty much, but you get used to them.” A passerby carrying four loaded bags of vegetables veered close, forcing Nick to pull Lauren out of the way. “You need to watch where you’re going.”
She shook her head as if returning to the present. “Sorry. This just reminded me of when I was a kid. We had something similar on our refrigerators.”
“Refrigerators? Plural?”
“We moved a lot.” Tucking the magnet into the back pocket of her jeans, she added, “The magnets changed fridges a lot.”
“To different towns?”
“No.” The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Just around Worcester. Who do we see next?”
Nick glanced down the aisle. “Trenton works for a local fisherman out of Hatteras and is a good option for fresh crab.”
Lauren leveled a hand across her brows to block out the sun. “Then I definitely need to meet him.”
“Last stand on the right.” He extended a hand for her to go first. “I’ll follow behind to make sure you don’t have any more near-accidents.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, and Nick fell into step behind her, curious why a family would move around in the same town. The only two reasons he could think of were to improve their situation or because they didn’t have a choice. Either way, spending your childhood constantly having to adapt to new situations couldn’t have been fun, and might explain the wall of ice she kept between herself and everyone else.
That wall could protect, but it could also make life pretty damn lonely. Something Nick knew all too well.
Nick Stamatis was easy to be with and smelled like a mix of patchouli, sandalwood, and vanilla all rolled into one. A heady scent that threatened to make her forget he wasn’t her favorite person.