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“Maybe…”
A knowing smile, and then, “I approve. He’s actually hot now that he’s grown into his long limbs and ditched the surfer hair.”
My nose wrinkles. “Oh my god. Stop.”
“Have you guys done it yet?”
“Carrie,” I hiss, but she’s grinning, obviously enjoying my reaction.
Ricardo takes a seat beside Dorthea, shaking his butt as he wiggles in, and she pinches his side. He hangs his arm around her and kisses her forehead as she tucks herself into his chest.
Whatever was troubling her earlier has seemingly passed, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
My sister’s expression is honest and soft when she says, “Logan looks at you like that, you know.”
Unable to resist, I glance back to find him flipping meat and following Ida’s firm instruction with the concentration of a dutiful student.
“Go on.” Carrie shoves me in his direction.
I swat at her. “Okay, okay.”
Ida’s face lights up when I approach, peering at their handy work. “We’re just about ready. Would you mind helping Logan carry the food to the table? I don’t want to overwork the poor thing.”
His lips purse at her teasing. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve got everything under control.”
“Scoot over and let me help before we all starve to death.”
I slide a colorful array of grilled vegetables across the stone counter surrounding the flat top grill.
Logan leans close enough that our elbows touch before he mutters, “Ida’s doing her damndest to turn me into a housewife.” He scoops the last batch of cooked squash off the grill with a metal spatula and piles them on top of the rest.
It’s oddly sexy watching him do something as conventional as cooking when I’m used to seeing him behind a desk in a designer suit.
“Would you believe, when we first met, he didn’t know the difference between a spatula and a saucepan?” Ida muses.
My cheek twitches as I balance the veggie tray in my arms. “Honestly? Yes.”
“Hey,” he grumbles, tossing a stray slice of squash at my head.
I chuck one back, curling my lips beneath my teeth when it nails him in the forehead.
“What? You can’t expect a woman to marry a man who doesn’t know how to season food,” Ida says before adding a pinch of an herb mix to the top of the meat. The salty aroma makes my stomach growl in anticipation. “Now you understand the complexity of flavor and spice. You’re welcome.”
Amused, Logan loads the empty tray with the cooked fish, and once finished, he cradles it in his hands. “I suppose I have more to thank you for than cooking lessons, given you were the first friend I made in the harbor.”
“And when I die, you’ll be the sole heir to the one thing I hold dearest to my heart…” She flashes a grin at me. “My lingerie collection.”
“Ida,” he groans as we make our way to the table.
“What? They’re in great condition.” She cackles, rounding the canopy with an enormous bowl of wild rice. “Your future wife will thank me.”
I’m snort-laughing as we trudge through the sand, carefully balancing our platters.
“Don’t encourage her,” Logan chides.
Hercules weaves in and out of our legs, on the hunt for any dropped morsels, and before we take the steps leading into the pit where everyone is waiting, I bend to slip him a tiny sliver of squash.
“How can I not? Ida’s awesome.”
