Chapter 4
“Those steaks smell so good, I think my feelings would have been hurt if you hadn’t invited me to join you.”
Dante glanced up from moving the meat around on the grill when Marti arrived, and he couldn’t help but smile.
She looked good in the green shorts and coordinating printed blouse she’d decided to wear.
The more he saw her, the more he liked what he saw.
Everything she wore seemed to bring out the beauty of her eyes.
Back when he was a teen, he’d thought her eye color an oddity. Now he found it mesmerizing.
“Of course, I’d have invited you. I am a real neighborly person. What do you have there?” he asked, motioning to the box she was carrying.
“Nana always taught me and Kara that we should never arrive empty-handed when we’re invited out. So I went to the Salty Dog Diner to pick up dessert. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with their signature salted honey pie. I got a whole pie in case we want seconds.”
“Thanks. Good choice,” he said. “I stopped by the diner a few weeks ago and had a slice. It was totally delicious. I ended up hanging around and talking to the owner and his staff. All likable guys, combat veterans who aren’t ready to be civilians. I loved hearing their war stories.”
“I bet,” she said, glancing around. “Nice setup you have here.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty good with my hands and thought I’d put them to good use.
” Earlier, he had installed a row of string lights in the area where a table and patio chairs were placed.
“You can put the dessert inside on the kitchen table. I figured we could sit on the screened patio to eat, so we won’t have to worry about pesky insects that like to make their presence known at night. ”
He saw relief show on her face. “I appreciate that since I can’t stand bugs of any kind,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about me being out on the beach at night. I heard that’s when those crawly creatures ─ the beach hoppers ─ come out.”
“Yes, and they come out in large numbers. But they don’t bite,” he added.
“I’ve heard that ‘they don’t bite’ line before. Namely, from one of my neighbors in Charlotte, just five minutes before one of her dogs bit me,” she informed him.
“Ouch. What kind of dog was it?” he asked.
“A Husky. And it hurt.”
“I’m sure it did.” He couldn’t rewrite the past, but he could show that he was a neighbor who was also a man of his word. “To help rid you of your fear of being on the beach at night, I’d like to invite you out on a beach date night one day this week.”
She lifted a brow. “A beach date night?”
He nodded. “You’ll love it.”
The look she gave him all but told him she doubted it, and he couldn’t help but smile at that. Still, he was determined not to give up on her. “We’ll build a bonfire. Insects and beach hoppers won’t come near the fire. We’ll be fine.”
He started to end it with, “Trust me”, but knew that saying such a thing was asking a lot.
Although they sort of had a history from that summer back when they were kids, she needed to get to know the man he was now.
He figured he had a few weeks to prove that he was a pretty good guy.
“How do you like your steaks?” he asked.
“Medium rare,” she replied. “How do you like yours?”
“Medium rare, as well. That’s something we have in common.” He couldn’t wait to discover what else he could add to that list.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“I decided to keep the sides simple, and they’re ready. The tossed salad is in the fridge, and the baked potatoes are warming in the oven, ready to be loaded with all kinds of decadent toppings.”
“Hmm, how loaded are we talking?” she asked, grinning.
“Fully loaded,” he said, grinning back, while playfully flashing his eyebrows. “You won’t believe all the different toppings I have on hand.”
“Sounds like a potato I’ll never forget.”
“You bet. As for how you can help, I was wondering if you’d like to make some lemonade. I left some lemons on the kitchen counter, just in case.”
“No problem. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Dante watched her enter his home through the screened patio, admiring the sway of her hips in the shorts and top.
Returning his attention to the steaks, he thought about what had happened on the beach earlier that day.
What had caused her to tremble the way she had?
Not once, but twice. What had she been thinking about at the time?
He pushed the questions from his mind, once again wondering if his security background mindset was analyzing things it shouldn’t.
***
“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a master griller, Dante. And you didn’t lie about all the toppings you had for the potatoes. As you saw, mine was a little over-loaded.”
He smiled. “There’s no such thing as an overloaded baked potato. Besides, a decent man would never comment about how much or how little a woman eats. I’m just glad you enjoyed everything.”
“I did.” She leaned over the table and, as if there were others around and she didn’t want to be overheard, she said, “And I know that Italian dressing you had for our salads didn’t come from a bottle.”
Dante chuckled. “It came from a bottle, but not one you can buy in any store. It’s homemade from my maternal grandmother’s recipe. You liked it?”
“I loved it! The salad was good and fresh, and adding that dressing made it pop.”
He lifted a brow. “Pop?”
“Yes, it made all the ingredients come alive in a way that my taste buds appreciated.”
“Thanks. And you did a great job on the lemonade, but then I figured you would.”
She leaned back in her chair. “How did you figure that?”
“You’re Ms. Della’s granddaughter. I’d expect she would have passed her secret lemonade recipe on to you.”
Marti couldn’t help but smile at that. “Does that mean you’ve had some of her lemonade before?”
“Yes, every summer that we came here. She would welcome us back with a huge pitcher of lemonade with guaranteed refills whenever we wanted. Dad and I loved it.”
She grinned and said, “I can believe that. Nana was the best. However, there’s no secret lemonade recipe.
You just have to know the right mix of water and sugar, and how many fresh-squeezed lemons to use.
And notice I said fresh-squeezed lemons and not artificial lemon juice.
I can spot the difference the moment I take a sip. ”
“I believe you,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe my disappointment after spending a summer here, then going to a restaurant, asking for lemonade, and being let down by its taste.” He shook his head. “Some people don’t know what they’re missing. Are you ready for dessert?”
“I would love a slice of pie.”
He stood. “Do you want a refill on your lemonade to go along with it, or would you rather have coffee?”
“Coffee, if it won’t be too much trouble.”
“Not at all. How do you take it?” he asked.
“Black with sugar.”
“The same way I like mine,” he said, grinning. “Two expressos coming up.” He then left the screened patio to go into the kitchen.
As Marti watched him walk away, she couldn’t help smiling.
It had been easy to share a meal with Dante, mainly because they’d held impersonal conversations as they ate.
Who knew that a discussion about the weather could go so deep?
Unlike other parts of the country, Oregon didn’t have to worry about hurricanes or tornadoes.
However, because coastal Oregon was situated along several fault lines, it did experience the odd tremor every once in a while.
She was well aware that they had steered clear of continuing their earlier conversation.
Namely, the one they had shared on the beach.
That made her wonder what they would talk about over dessert.
She had a feeling that things were about to shift from impersonal to personal.
And although she was expecting such a change, she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.
Usually, she prided herself on being a very observant woman, but her focus had never been centered on a man the way it was on Dante.
Everything about him deserved a woman’s attention, including the husky sound of his voice that stirred something deep within her.
Maybe… possibly, it wouldn’t affect her so much if his English didn’t have an inflection of Italian in certain words that he spoke.
She found that extremely alluring. She would even go so far as to say, absolutely captivating.
Then there was the way he could look at her, as if she were the most interesting person he’d ever met.
He didn’t just hear what she said, but more importantly, he listened.
Unlike some men, whose expressions would show that they thought a woman’s words were insignificant, Dante’s expression told her that he thought her contribution to the conversation was very important.
She dismissed it as having nothing to do with the fact that he was older than her.
She’d had affairs with older men ─ some a lot older than Dante ─ and they didn’t have half his charm.
Those men had been just as randy as a man half their age and hadn’t been able to wait to get her in bed, as if to prove they still had it.
Usually, unfortunately for her, they didn’t.
Dante appeared so handsome while sitting across from her.
The lighting on the screened patio was perfect ─not too bright and not too low—just right for two people enjoying a meal together.
If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he’d set this evening up deliberately, to establish a romantic mood.
And the smooth, soft sound of jazz coming from a speaker didn’t contradict that idea.
Marti took a deep breath. She was out of her depth here. When he had made that comment earlier about being good with his hands, she had looked at them and imagined just how good they would feel in her hair—and on her skin.