Chapter Four #3
The trip to her apartment was fast, and Zach mentally went through the things he had at his own place, trying to decide what he could make for her.
She needed something filling; she worked at her job, burned lots of calories.
Marit wasn’t the kind of woman who shied away from eating carbs and a large meal . . . at least, he didn’t think so.
After he’d washed the smell of fried food out of his hair and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he quickly prepped some chicken parmesan for dinner. He popped the chicken into the oven, which should be ready by the time he and Marit returned.
Then he set out for her place, arriving exactly twenty-two minutes and thirty-four seconds after he’d dropped her off.
He went up the stairs to her door and knocked.
She answered almost immediately—and it was all Zach could do not to fall to his knees right then and there and beg her to love him forever.
She was wearing another pair of jeans, and a tank top that showed off the muscles she’d gained from working on the lobster boat.
It dipped low in the front, giving him what he guessed was supposed to be a hint of cleavage, but was actually more than she probably thought, considering he was so much taller—and looking almost straight down her shirt.
His mouth watered, but Zach pushed the lustful thoughts away. He respected Marit, and it was obvious she hadn’t dressed for seduction. He could control his desire for her . . . maybe.
She’d left her long hair down, and it was still damp. It was darker than normal, but when it dried it would be back to its unusual white-blonde color. The ends curled around her tits, framing them perfectly. She looked like a damn angel . . . and Zach wanted to defile her in every way possible.
“You clean up nicely,” she said with a smile.
“You too,” Zach told her.
“You want me to bring anything over to help with dinner?”
“Just yourself.”
“All right. I’m ready.”
“No purse?” Zach asked.
Marit shrugged. “I’ve got a credit card and my ID in the little pocket on the back of my phone case. My keys will fit in my pocket. Don’t need much else.”
“True. Don’t you worry that if you lose your phone, you’ll lose your stuff?”
“Not really. When I’m on the boat, I put my phone into a dry bag that’s clipped onto a hook in the cabin, so it can’t fall overboard accidentally. And when I’m not on the boat, I’ve always got my phone in my back pocket. It hasn’t been an issue, honestly.”
Zach nodded.
“What would I carry in a purse, anyway?” she asked, as they headed out.
Zach waited patiently behind her as she locked her apartment door.
“I have no idea. I don’t know what women carry around with them all the time.
I had to look in my mom’s purse for something once, and it scarred me for life.
I saw a tampon, a bag of pretzels, and a wad of what I thought was used tissues, and I was done. No more purse looking for me.”
Marit laughed as they headed down the stairs.
Zach took her hand in his when they reached the bottom.
He loved hearing her laugh. For all she’d apparently been through with her brothers while growing up, and the harassment in her chosen career, she was a surprisingly happy person.
He loved that about her. That she could live in the moment and not dwell on the past.
“Tampons are a normal part of life,” she said, when she’d gotten control of herself.
They walked at an easy pace toward his place, which was only three blocks away. It was still light outside, as the sun didn’t set until late in the summer. Although all too soon it would be dark at four in the afternoon and stay that way until around seven in the morning.
“I realize that. And I have no problem with tampons or pads. I’ve bought them in the past and brought them to women when they were having an emergency in the bathroom. I just don’t want to think about my mother having them or using them. Or having any kind of sexual organs, for that matter.”
Marit giggled once more. “You do know that you and your brothers wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t had sex.”
Zach pushed a finger from his free hand into his ear and singsonged, “La la la . . . I can’t hear you.”
Marit stepped closer and knocked her shoulder into his arm. “Whatever.”
Zach smiled down at her. He liked this. A lot.
“You’ve brought a tampon to someone when they were in the bathroom with a period emergency?”
“Yup,” he said nonchalantly. “On a Navy ship, there’s not a lot of privacy.
And I was walking by a bathroom when I heard someone calling out from inside.
I peeked my head in and heard a woman asking for someone, anyone, to get her a tampon.
I flagged down the next woman I saw, had her get me one from her room—which, luckily, was nearby—and brought it into the restroom for the other woman. ”
“Wow. That was . . . nice. You weren’t embarrassed?”
“Not really. I mean, like you said, it’s a part of life. I don’t even know who the woman was either. I had to get to the galley right after that.”
“Huh.”
Zach looked down at her. “Is that a good huh, or a bad one?”
“Neither. Just interesting. What are we having for dinner? I could eat a moose. Not that I’ve ever had moose, but I’m just sayin’.”
“No moose. Chicken parmesan.”
“What’s your way?”
“Alfredo and lobster sauce. Tons of garlic. And of course, cheese. All the cheese.”
“Oh my God, that sounds amazing. Will it take long to cook?”
“The chicken’s already cooking. When we get to my place, I’ll take it out and finish it up on the stovetop, giving it a quick fry so it has a nice crispy breading, then add the sauce.
Then it’ll take another ten minutes or so in the oven to melt everything.
I did bring home some lobster-and-Brie-stuffed mushrooms that we served at the shack today.
They didn’t sell as well as I’d hoped, and we had a ton extra. ”
“What’s wrong with people these days? I could probably eat a dozen of those babies.”
This woman. She was fucking made for him. “Well, that’s good, because I think I brought home about two dozen.”
To his surprise, Marit wrapped her arm around his and leaned her head against his bicep as they walked.
“This is nice. Thank you for inviting me over. I was going to have another frozen meal before wasting at least an hour scrolling through social media and watching stupid videos before probably falling asleep on my couch.”
Zach made a mental vow to make sure Marit had fresh food for dinner as often as he could possibly manage.
Lord knew he usually had plenty of leftovers from the shack.
Some of the things he created for his customers sold very well, and others not so much—like the stuffed mushrooms from today.
He was still learning what worked and what didn’t.
For the most part, people were very receptive to the bougie lobster dishes he came up with.
Were open to trying something other than the typical lobster roll.
“Here we are,” he said as they approached the house with his apartment. “It’s not very fancy,” he warned her, as he opened the door.
He gestured for Marit to enter first and watched her carefully as she looked around his place.
He had a studio apartment, with everything in one big room. Thankfully, it was a fairly large room. His queen-size bed—which he slept in diagonally, in order to fit—was on one end of the space, leaving room for two oversize recliners and a modest-size TV.
He supposed most people would prefer a couch, but that would take up a lot more room than the chairs, and he’d wanted a big table, enough to fit his entire family.
It wasn’t likely all his brothers and his mom would show up at the same time, they’d be more likely to meet up at Lobster Cove if they wanted to have dinner together, but family was important, and he wanted to have enough space to cook for them if they came over.
He’d bought a table with a middle leaf, however, which he currently didn’t have in, so it took up less room than it might otherwise. There were two chairs against the wall, currently unused, and four around the table at the moment. He liked to sit while he ate, take his time, enjoy the food.
“It’s a lot like mine. Although I have an actual bedroom,” she told him. “And I have a tiny little table and a huge couch. I think my TV is bigger than yours.”
He chuckled. “I’m not much of a TV watcher. Didn’t really get much of a chance when I was working on naval ships.”
“Your kitchen is way nicer than mine.”
“It’s not ideal, but until I get my own place, it’ll do.”
“You looking to buy something here?”
“Yeah. Linc, my oldest brother, bought an old house on a large piece of property. You know Chad lives on Lobster Cove, and Knox is content with his two-bedroom apartment on the lower level of a house. But I want a house of my own. Not one I have to fix up, like Linc is doing, but a more modern, finished thing. One I don’t have to spend a lot of time on.
I don’t really have the time anyway, not with The Lobster Buoy and helping out around Lobster Cove in my free time. ”
“I think it’s great how connected you are to your mom’s place.”
“It’s our family legacy. And even if I’m not living there, it’s where I grew up, where I have so many awesome memories. Besides, it’s beautiful as hell. I love visiting.”
“I can see why.”
“You want to go sit, make yourself comfortable, find something on the TV to watch while I get the chicken ready for the oven again?”
“Can I help?”
“Well . . .”
Marit laughed. “Sorry, let me rephrase that, Mr. I-Don’t-Want-Anyone-Touching-My-Chef-Stuff . . . can I keep you company while you do your thing in the kitchen?”
Zach felt himself blushing. She’d pegged him in one. He didn’t usually like others “helping” him cook. He was a little type A when it came to food and making it how he preferred. “I’d like that.”
The first thing he did was put the stuffed mushrooms into the air fryer on low before he turned his attention to the chicken.
It didn’t take long to bread the breasts and crisp them up on the stovetop.
He put the chicken in a dish and smothered it with the homemade lobster alfredo sauce he had in his fridge for just such an occasion as this.
Then he added a couple of large handfuls of mozzarella and parmesan cheese to the top, and some more spices to finish it off.
“That looks delicious,” Marit said from his side. She once again leaned into him after he’d shut the oven door. Zach could get used to having her against him, for sure.
“Want to go sit at the table while we dig into the mushrooms?”
“Where are your plates and silverware?”
As Zach plated the mushrooms, Marit set the table. He couldn’t help but think they made a great team.
They sat next to each other at the table and dug into the mushrooms, each consuming several before Marit spoke.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. These are so good, Zach. You’re an amazing cook.”
“They aren’t hard to make,” he told her honestly.
“Maybe, maybe not, but whatever spices you used really complement the flavor of the cheese and bring out the delicate taste of the lobster. These could seriously be served in a five-star restaurant.”
“When I moved here, that was actually my goal,” Zach admitted.
“What, to open a fancy restaurant?”
“Yeah. Like The Lost Kitchen. You know, the one that’s so popular that in order to get reservations, you have to send in a postcard and it’s a lottery system?”
“Well, I think part of the reason they’re so popular is because they had that reality show about them.”
“They did?”
Marit chuckled. “Yes. You really don’t watch much TV, do you?”
“No. Anyway, the last kind of place I wanted to open was another lobster shack. But honestly, it makes sense. People around here love their seafood and lobster, and the tourists kind of expect lobster rolls. But I wanted to put my own spin on it. Make it different.”
“Well, you’ve succeeded. Because these mushroom bites are freaking delicious and like nothing I’ve had . . . especially not from a lobster shack.”
“That means a lot coming from someone who deals with lobsters for a living.”
“Living is the key word,” Marit said with a small laugh. “At least, they’re living when I hand them off to someone.”
Zach rested his head in his palm and watched her eat another stuffed mushroom.
“What? Do I have cheese on my chin?” she asked, picking up her napkin and wiping her mouth.
“No. I just love watching people enjoy something I’ve made with my own two hands. And knowing you’re enjoying them is even more deeply satisfying.”
“Why?”
The thing was, Zach wasn’t exactly sure. He’d fed a lot of people over the years. But there was something about watching this woman eat something he’d prepared. Sitting at his table, in his private space, with him. It was intimate in a way he hadn’t expected.
The timer he’d set for the chicken saved him from having to answer. He got up and headed to the oven.
It wasn’t long before they were both eating the chicken parmesan he’d whipped up.
It was good. Although it could’ve been better, at least to his taste buds, if he’d had more time.
But once again, Marit praised the meal and his cooking skills.
And so he felt proud. Happy that he was the one providing her sustenance.
It wasn’t until after they’d finished their meals with the donuts he’d purchased earlier, washed the dishes and put everything away, that Zach realized how unfortunate it was that he didn’t have a couch.
He couldn’t sit next to Marit and subtly put his arm on the back of the couch, which would eventually end up around her shoulders. Damn it.
“You want to stay and watch something? I could find a movie or something on Netflix. That’s the only app I’ve got.”
“Sure.”
They walked into the living area, and Zach gestured to the recliners. “Take your pick.”
“Which one are you sitting in?” Marit asked.
Zach shrugged. “I usually sit in that one,” he said, pointing to the one on the right.
“Then I’ll sit there too . . . if that’s okay.”