Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
A few nights later, Connor asked her over to dinner at his place, and there was no doubt this time he considered it a date. He blatantly stated it was. Excitement and nervousness fluttered through her as she slipped on a simple sundress, the soft cotton fabric caressing her skin. She carefully curled her hair, leaving it down to drift around her shoulders in soft waves. A touch of mascara and a light sweep of coral lipstick added a touch of color to her face. If she was ready, then why was her heart beating faster? She dug in the drawer, found some blush, and swept a brush of it across her cheeks, giving them a healthy glow. With one last look in the mirror, she turned and headed to the door.
She stepped out onto her deck and saw Connor out lighting the grill on his porch. He saw her and waved, a smile spreading across his features. She raised her hand in a slight wave, her silver bracelets jingling, and crossed the sandy expanse between their cottages. She climbed up his wooden stairs and dropped her shoes onto the worn planks, slipping them on quickly.
He crossed over, took her hand, and squeezed it. “Glad you could come over. I’m grilling some grouper. Hope that’s okay.”
“Sounds absolutely delicious.” She loved being on the island and the easy availability of a variety of fresh fish.
“Made a salad and a potato casserole recipe my sister gave me. If it doesn’t turn out, we’ll blame her.” He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But I picked up some pie slices from Beverly. Didn’t trust myself making dessert.”
“I’m sure it will all be wonderful.”
“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? I’ll go get us some wine.”
“You know you don’t have to drink wine just because I like it. You can drink your beer,” she offered, not wanting him to feel obligated.
“What can I say? I’ve developed a taste for it myself these days. I got help picking out this bottle too. Hope you like it. It’s a pinot grigio. Supposed to go well with fish.” He headed inside and she stood at the railing for a moment, watching the waves. Something so soothing and comforting about their endless movements.
She turned when she heard him come back out, the soft creak of the deck boards announcing his return. He handed her a glass and clinked his lightly against hers. “To hoping the meal turns out.” He grinned widely.
“To a nice evening.” She took a sip and savored the crisp, tangy flavor. He’d once again picked out a perfect wine.
“Come, keep me company while I grill the fish. Won’t take long. Everything else is ready.”
She followed him over to the far end of the deck and leaned against the railing, watching his movements as he placed the fish on the grill and sprinkled an aromatic seasoning over them. He concentrated on his grilling while she watched. He soon flipped the fish over. He looked up and caught her watching him. “Doesn’t take long for it to cook.”
She’d never grilled fish, so she didn’t know the particulars, but it smelled delicious. He took up the fish on a waiting platter and they headed inside, his free hand resting on the small of her back in an effortless, familiar gesture.
They walked into the kitchen and she saw that he’d set the table and placed a small vase of flowers in the center. He laughed. “Still don’t have those placemats and cloth napkins that Brooklyn was complaining about. But knowing my sister, I’ll have them the next time they visit.”
“It looks lovely,” she assured him. She slipped into a chair as he dished up the meal and sat down across from her. The meal was delicious. The fish was delicately seasoned to perfection, the salad crisp with a tangy dressing, and the potato casserole perfectly done and piping hot with a crispy layer of crumb topping. “This is all so good.”
“Thanks. I’m not the world’s best cook, but I do cook a lot. Much prefer it to going out to eat.”
“I eat out all the time in New York. Or grab take-out. I’ve been experimenting with recipes and doing lots of cooking since I got here and have more time. I’m really enjoying myself.”
“I’m usually a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Usually baked potatoes or sometimes I dice them up and fry them.”
“My grandmother taught me how to make potato pancakes from leftover mashed potatoes. Really yummy.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had them.”
“I’ll have to make them for you.” And just like that, she’d almost invited him to dinner. She paused, then continued. “Would you like to come for dinner tomorrow night?”
He grinned at her. “If we keep this up, we’ll be having every dinner together.”
“We might.” That idea didn’t bother her a bit.
“I’ll be there.”
After they finished their meal, they cleared the table, but he insisted he’d do the dishes later. They headed back outside to enjoy the sunset. He lit candles in the lanterns lining the deck, and they cast a magical light in dancing patterns on the worn planks.
“Here, let’s sit on the glider.” He motioned to the loveseat-sized glider fashioned to look like a double-sized Adirondack chair.
They sat down, side-by-side, and he gently pushed them, setting the glider into a gentle swaying motion. “This is nice,” she said. “And it’s really comfortable.”
“Thanks. I made it. I think it’s Brooklyn’s favorite place to sit.”
“So you do woodworking besides just carvings?”
“Some. Made a baby cradle for Brooklyn and a toy chest. Oh, and a rocking horse.”
“You’ve got quite a lot of talents with wood then, don’t you?”
“I do like working with it. Finding the perfect piece of wood. The grains in different types of wood. How it takes stains.”
“Well, it’s not the same, but I learned to knit this week.” She laughed. “Darlene taught me, but I’m not very proficient at it. She’s going to work with me some more next week.”
“My mom was a knitter. She loved it. I swear she could look at any knitted item and make it herself—with improvements. I still have an afghan she knitted me and a hat. And a sweater that no longer fits, but I can’t seem to give it away.” He shrugged. “Maybe Brooklyn will wear it one day.”
“I’m sure she’d love that. The connection with her grandmother.”
“I’m sorry Mom wasn’t around to get to meet Brooklyn. She would have loved being a grandmother.”
“I bet she would have.”
“I know it’s been years, but I still miss her.” His eyes were lined with pain, maybe softened over the years, but pain still lingered. He took her hand, their fingers intertwining. “But then, you know what I’m talking about.”
“I do. I miss my mom, my dad, and my grandmother. I guess especially Nana. It was just the two of us for so many years. We were so close. Maybe even brought closer by her Alzheimer’s disease. Fighting it together. Adapting to life as she declined. I just wish… I wish I could have helped her more. Stayed with her longer.”
“I’m sure she appreciated all you did for her.”
They sat in silence for a while, each one lost in their memories. She finally rose. “I should go. It’s getting late.”
He stood beside her. “Is it wrong to say I don’t want you to leave?” A hint of vulnerability laced his words.
“I…” What was he asking? Her mind scrambled as she tried to decipher his question.
“I mean, I like spending time with you. It always seems to go by so quickly.”
“It does.” She nodded, thankful he wasn’t asking her to spend the night. Because she wasn’t ready for that. Not that kind of intimacy. Their connection still felt fragile.
He took her hand and led her back to her cottage. He stood facing her, holding her hands. “Would it be okay…” He paused, looking deep into her eyes. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”
She nodded silently. He lowered his lips to hers, the lightest brush like the flutter of butterfly wings, then pulled away slightly. His intense gaze locked with hers. He dipped his head again and kissed her deeply, a sigh escaping his lips. When he finally pulled away, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest.
Her heart ricocheted, racing a race that had no end. She could feel his heart thrumming against her cheek. After several long moments that still weren’t long enough, he loosened his embrace and stepped back. He brushed his thumb along her jaw. “Good night, Amanda.”
“Night,” she answered, wondering if he could even hear her words as they drifted off into the night, carried away on the ocean breeze.