Page 11 of A Daddy for Christmas 3: Nova
He chuckled at that and looked thoughtful. “They make an amazing raspberry sour mocktail and a sweet raspberry Manhattan mocktail, so both ends of the spectrum are covered.”
“Then why are we still floating around here talking about it? Let’s get to the mocktails and mini-subs,” I declared, swimming past him to reach the shore and the steadily growing aroma that had become a siren’s call for me. My stomach urged me on as we splashed into the shadow, fins flopping against the sand as we made our way to a rock big enough that we could sit on it to remove them.
“Hang on,” I said, looking down at my suit and realizing that, while I was hungry as hell and seriously salivating over the opportunity to bite into one of those sandwiches, there was a rather big and glaring problem standing in my way. “I left my wallet back in your jeep with the rest of my clothes.”
“No worries, you’re with me.”
“Okay, well, unless I missed something, you don’t have a place to keep a wallet in that suit any more than I do in mine,” I pointed out.
“It’s a local place,” Robbie explained. “Ezekiel, the owner, knows me and lets me keep a tab since he knows I bring clients along the beach just to try his food and post pictures of his place on their travel blogs. It’s all good.”
“Then you have to let me get supper for us tonight.” I insisted.
“Tell you what, why don’t we pick something up from the market and cook supper together at my place? We can eat out on the deck and maybe even get lucky enough to watch the storms they say we’re going to get hit with tonight. Unless you’ve got other plans.”
“The only thing I need to do tonight is learn my way around your kitchen.”
“Good answer.”
My legs were like jelly as I slogged up the sandy dune, while he just swaggered to the top and reached out a hand, hauling me the last few steps so I didn’t keep sliding. Instead of feeling self-conscious, I just smiled and enjoyed the warm feel of his palm pressed against mine for a few extra heartbeats before letting go. By then, his stomach was growling too, gurgling as loud as my own.
“Guess we worked up an appetite,” he said as he brushed sand off my arm.
“Are they really going to serve us like this?” I asked, gesturing down to the half-sleeved wetsuits we had on and our bare, sandy feet.
“Trust me, we’re good; we won’t even be the messiest ones there, I promise you,” he said as we walked towards the sand.
So much for needing to worry about if we’d be seated or not; the stools were carved out of tree trunks and polished to a weathered sheen. The patio umbrellas were spaced between every stool, open to provide shade on what was a mostly sunny day. Fluffy clumps of thick, heavy-looking clouds had begun to gather on the horizon. Perhaps we would witness a storm tonight.
“Took the short way over today, huh?” Ezekiel chuckled as Robbie hopped up on a stool.
“Best way there is,” he declared. “And to top it off we’ve worked up a hell of an appetite, so if we could get a trio of mini subs each and some of that coleslaw of yours, that would be amazing.”
“Heavy or light on the dill?” he asked.
“Heavy on mine,” I said, having fallen in love with dill dressing on my cucumbers in college and moved on to all things dill after that.
It was a staple in my potato salad and my homemade tartar sauce and added a beautiful flavor boost when combined withgarlic and the hunks of cod I tended to bake whenever I wanted fish. Finished with a big squeeze of lemon and a drizzle of seasoned butter, and it was flaky, light, and extremely flavorful.
“I think I’ll go heavy today as well,” Robbie replied, chuckling when he caught me doing a little dance in my seat. What could I say? I seriously loved dill and would probably wind up spreading a bit of that coleslaw over top of each sub before I bit into it.
“Are you enjoying yourself so far?” Robbie asked once we’d placed our mocktail orders.
I’d gone for sweet today and ordered a Manhattan.
“It’s everything I hoped this vacation would be. Fresh air, warm sunny days, beautiful sunsets, and the company hasn’t been too bad either.”
That got a chuckle out of him.
“Do I at least meet the minimum requirements for a fourth date?” he asked, startling me for a moment until I realized that he counted our dinner on the beach last night, snorkeling today, and our impending supper tonight to be dates number one, two and three. When was the last time I’d had three dates in a row with anyone?
When my brain didn’t immediately respond with an answer, I knew it had been a while.
“More than the minimum requirements,” I replied. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, my morning schedule is completely packed, while my evening will be painfully lacking if you are interested in hitting a club with me and doing a bit of dancing.”
“I love to dance,” I admitted. “Consider your evening reserved.”