“And how.” Zach chuckled. “She inhaled Eleanor Cooper’s fudge cake today.”
Katherine raised her eyebrows. “Who’s Eleanor Cooper?”
Zach filled her in. “You should stop by the shop and try a piece. On the house.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I just repaid one debt. I don’t want to go back into hock.”
“It will be my treat,” Stephanie said. “I’m going back tomorrow for another piece myself. Come with me.”
Katherine fought the temptation to accept. “I only go into town for supplies.”
“In that case, pencil a trip to The Perfect Blend on your calendar during your next shopping trip. We’ll go together.”
Zach’s aunt really was a take-charge woman.
But while Simon’s high-handedness rankled, Stephanie’s came across as more benevolent.
“I’ll think about it. Thank you for the offer. I hope you enjoy those.” She waved toward the plate and eased back.
“Why don’t you join us for dinner?” Zach tugged the towel off his shoulder. “I always double recipes and put the leftovers in the freezer for future meals. Our menu tonight is garlic-pepper marinated salmon with green beans amandine and au gratin potatoes.”
Her mouth began to water. Much as she enjoyed chocolate-making, cooking wasn’t her forte. Omelets and salads were about the extent of her repertoire.
Stocking up on takeout dinners from the Myrtle Café in town had been inspired, but the local eatery’s excellent fare didn’t compare to the menu Zach had planned for tonight.
The longer she was around these people, however, the higher the probability she’d let an identifying nugget slip—or one of them would recognize her.
Not worth the risk.
“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to intrude. I imagine you and your aunt would like to catch up.”
“It was her idea.” Zach nudged the older woman.
“That’s true. I told him in the kitchen we should invite you.” Stephanie swept a hand over the table. “All we have to do is add another place setting. And I for one would love to hear how you learned to make such exquisite truffles. If they taste as delicious as they look, I have a feeling you’re in the wrong business—whatever business you’re in.”
The last comment cinched her decision.
If she succumbed to temptation and stayed, the subject of her background would come up. Those were the sorts of topics new acquaintances chatted about. While she could deflect queries and redirect the conversation during a short visit like the cobbler break she and Zach had shared, playing dodgeball over the length of a leisurely dinner would be difficult—and stressful.
She had to go.
“I can’t stay tonight—but welcome to Hope Harbor, Ms. Garrett.”
“Stephanie.”
“Stephanie. Enjoy your meal. You have a perfect night for outdoor dining.”
“You’re certain we can’t convince you to stay?” Zach sent a distracted glance toward the two amiable seagulls who’d followed her over and were sitting side by side a few yards away, their unblinking stare riveted on the trio on the deck.
“Not tonight.”
“I’ll return the plate from the truffles.”
“No hurry. Have a pleasant evening.”
With that, she escaped.
Not until she was safely back on the other side of the insulating stand of coniferous trees did she slow her pace.
That had been close.
Too close.
It wasn’t that Zach or his aunt posed any danger. Every instinct in her body told her she could trust them to keep her secret if they happened to discover it.
No, the danger next door was of a different sort.
It was named Zach.
Stifling a sudden surge of longing, she stepped onto her deck as the two seagulls soared back and landed on her lawn with a flutter of wings. A moment later, the faint peal of female laughter drifted her direction from next door.
It appeared Zach and his aunt were having fun.
No surprise there. The two of them seemed to share a zest for life and a ready sense of humor.
She braced her hands on the railing and watched the sun descend toward the horizon.
Too bad she couldn’t have joined them for what would no doubt be a lively, engaging dinner.
And too bad she hadn’t met Zach under different circumstances. The spark between them could have had serious potential.
But their lives were on different trajectories, and until she decided whether a course correction was in her future, it wasn’t fair to either of them to get involved in anything more than a casual, next-door-neighbor friendship. If she ended up going back to Hollywood, a relationship with a coffee shop owner in a tiny Oregon coast town would never work.
One more incentive to get her act together and decide what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
Fast.
Because living in limbo stunk.
7
“Beautiful presentation.” Stephanie draped her napkin over her lap as Zach set her plate in front of her. “And it smells divine.”
He put his own plate down and slid into his chair. “These are all tried-and-true recipes. There shouldn’t be any unpleasant surprises, like the ones my early culinary efforts produced. I have blackberry cobbler for dessert—but I have a feeling chocolate is going to trump my offering.” He folded his hands. “Shall we say a blessing?”
“By all means.” She motioned for him to proceed.
After offering a brief prayer of thanks, he lifted his head to find Stephanie watching him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She picked up her fork. “Just wondering.”
“About what?”
“Your neighbor. She intrigues me.”
That made two of them.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. There’s an aura about her that awakens the motherly instinct in me—not that I’ve had much opportunity to be maternal in my life, so it’s possible I’m misreading the cue.” His aunt speared a piece of salmon. “What do you know about her?”
“Not much. On the few occasions we’ve talked, she’s told me very little about herself.”
“Curious. How long will she be here?”
“Also a tidbit she hasn’t passed on.”
“Well, whatever her story, I like her.”
“How can you tell after such a brief meeting?”
“How long did it take you to like her—or more?” A dimple appeared in his aunt’s cheek as she appraised him.
Dang, she had excellent intuitive abilities.
He concentrated on scooping up a forkful of potatoes as he composed his answer. “I noticed her the first day she came into the shop.”
“And I bet it didn’t take long for the spark of attraction to ignite.”
“Can I plead the Fifth?”
“You can—although the evidence is compelling. I may not have much personal experience with romance, but it’s easy to recognize. And in your case, it’s mutual.”
Also his conclusion—but how had his aunt picked up on it in a handful of minutes?
Whatever her technique, why deny his interest?
“You’re a perceptive woman.”