terribly. He waved the fork in the air. “I’ll have a few bites; that’s all. It’s good to taste test.”
“For now, that’s enough. But, how long are you going to continue to mope?” Kami poured him a glass of water. “I miss Mom too, you know.”
“I’m entitled to mope. I’ll be through with it when I’m through.” His gaze darkened as he stuffed a second spoonful of pasta into his mouth and chewed. “An old man like me…I have a right to feel a bit of sadness after such a loss, after so many years.”
“Yes, you do. But, don’t you think it’s time—”
“Hello?” A rapid succession of taps on the serving counter drew Kami’s attention. Mrs. Baker’s fleshy face filled the pass-through window. “Is it possible to get some service here…sometime before I starve to death?”
As if that could ever happen. Kami grimaced. She plastered on a smile as she called, “I’ll be right there. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Of course. And a basket of garlic knots would be nice, too, for starters.”
“Coming right up.” Kami turned back to her father as Fred, meandered in from a smoke break in the back parking lot. “Make sure Dad finishes his plate of pasta, OK?”
Her cousin wiped his hands on his apron. “I’ll do my best, but you know better than I do that you’re asking for a miracle.”
6
“How do you like your steak?” Wyatt asked as he took the platter of steaks Kami had marinated and set it on the table beside the grill.
Kami eased in beside him to set a glass of sweet tea garnished with a chunky orange slice on the deck rail. Tonight she wore a baby blue long-sleeved blouse and jeans. Her feet were clad in a pair of boots sporting thin, spiked heels that might be called anything but sensible. Silver teardrops dangled from each earlobe. “I like it still mooing.”
“Me, too.” Wyatt laughed. “I can manage that.” He reached for the grilling tongs as he turned toward sliding glass doors that led to the kitchen. “What do you have in the oven?”
“Peach cobbler.”
“Made from scratch?”
“Of course.”
“It smells like heaven.” Wyatt wondered how she’d managed to throw such a meal together, having spent the day working at the pizzeria. March had slipped into April, and warmer temperatures now brought people through Clover Cove on their way to the Smoky Mountains for hiking and fishing and a lungful of rich, pine-scented air. Given the situation, he was touched that she’d taken the time. Cinnamon whispered from the kitchen, sweet and sticky, causing his belly to yawn. “I vote we devour dessert before the main course.”
“We could do that, except the cobbler needs about twenty minutes to finish.”
“Steaks first, then.” Wyatt winked and knelt to open the propane tank beneath the grill. “This shouldn’t take long at all.”
“Would you like to eat out here?” Kami motioned toward the deck furniture. A black, wrought iron table was flanked by two cushioned chairs. “It’s not too cool, and I could light the chiminea and the tiki torches.”
“Sounds perfect.” Wyatt ignited the grill, humming to himself as he placed a few servings of sliced zucchini, buttered and wrapped in foil, onto the burner. Muted light fingered through a handful of clouds as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting shadows along the deck floor. “Do you have a couple of plates for the steaks when they’re finished?”
“Coming right up.”
Kami slipped into the house and soon her voice lilted on the breeze as she sang along with Kenney Chesney on the radio. Wyatt couldn’t help but grin as he added a touch of seasoning to the steaks. The woman was a surprise around every hairpin curve.
She returned with the plates and a long-tipped lighter. He took the lighter from her and ignited the torch wicks as she set the table. Candlelight flickered over Kami’s pinked cheeks as she turned back to face him. Her hair flowed freely tonight, a
“For now, that’s enough. But, how long are you going to continue to mope?” Kami poured him a glass of water. “I miss Mom too, you know.”
“I’m entitled to mope. I’ll be through with it when I’m through.” His gaze darkened as he stuffed a second spoonful of pasta into his mouth and chewed. “An old man like me…I have a right to feel a bit of sadness after such a loss, after so many years.”
“Yes, you do. But, don’t you think it’s time—”
“Hello?” A rapid succession of taps on the serving counter drew Kami’s attention. Mrs. Baker’s fleshy face filled the pass-through window. “Is it possible to get some service here…sometime before I starve to death?”
As if that could ever happen. Kami grimaced. She plastered on a smile as she called, “I’ll be right there. Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Of course. And a basket of garlic knots would be nice, too, for starters.”
“Coming right up.” Kami turned back to her father as Fred, meandered in from a smoke break in the back parking lot. “Make sure Dad finishes his plate of pasta, OK?”
Her cousin wiped his hands on his apron. “I’ll do my best, but you know better than I do that you’re asking for a miracle.”
6
“How do you like your steak?” Wyatt asked as he took the platter of steaks Kami had marinated and set it on the table beside the grill.
Kami eased in beside him to set a glass of sweet tea garnished with a chunky orange slice on the deck rail. Tonight she wore a baby blue long-sleeved blouse and jeans. Her feet were clad in a pair of boots sporting thin, spiked heels that might be called anything but sensible. Silver teardrops dangled from each earlobe. “I like it still mooing.”
“Me, too.” Wyatt laughed. “I can manage that.” He reached for the grilling tongs as he turned toward sliding glass doors that led to the kitchen. “What do you have in the oven?”
“Peach cobbler.”
“Made from scratch?”
“Of course.”
“It smells like heaven.” Wyatt wondered how she’d managed to throw such a meal together, having spent the day working at the pizzeria. March had slipped into April, and warmer temperatures now brought people through Clover Cove on their way to the Smoky Mountains for hiking and fishing and a lungful of rich, pine-scented air. Given the situation, he was touched that she’d taken the time. Cinnamon whispered from the kitchen, sweet and sticky, causing his belly to yawn. “I vote we devour dessert before the main course.”
“We could do that, except the cobbler needs about twenty minutes to finish.”
“Steaks first, then.” Wyatt winked and knelt to open the propane tank beneath the grill. “This shouldn’t take long at all.”
“Would you like to eat out here?” Kami motioned toward the deck furniture. A black, wrought iron table was flanked by two cushioned chairs. “It’s not too cool, and I could light the chiminea and the tiki torches.”
“Sounds perfect.” Wyatt ignited the grill, humming to himself as he placed a few servings of sliced zucchini, buttered and wrapped in foil, onto the burner. Muted light fingered through a handful of clouds as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting shadows along the deck floor. “Do you have a couple of plates for the steaks when they’re finished?”
“Coming right up.”
Kami slipped into the house and soon her voice lilted on the breeze as she sang along with Kenney Chesney on the radio. Wyatt couldn’t help but grin as he added a touch of seasoning to the steaks. The woman was a surprise around every hairpin curve.
She returned with the plates and a long-tipped lighter. He took the lighter from her and ignited the torch wicks as she set the table. Candlelight flickered over Kami’s pinked cheeks as she turned back to face him. Her hair flowed freely tonight, a
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