“No,” I faux protest. “Don’t make me relive the trauma.”
She bursts into giggles as I pull a carved wooden fish, painted in streaks of blue and green and yellow, out of one of the boxes. “Ooh, do you know where this is from? Where was it in the old place?”
“Oh, that’s a mahi mahi. Dolphin fish.” Kiara thinks for a moment. “It was probably by the host stand? I’m pretty sure Dad got it as a gift from a friend.”
“Let’s put it back there, then.”
Chapter 30
Coq Au Vin
Jack
“I know Douglas won’t like it.” I tilt my head to the side to keep my phone wedged between my ear and shoulder as I stir the stew I’m making. “But it would stick it to Jimmy.”
Across the line, Hazel sighs. “Fine. I’ll come down. I was getting the itch to move on anyway.”
“Sweet. Thank you.”
“You’re lucky I like you, Hartman.”
I pump my fist silently. I know I should’ve stopped dragging my feet and asked Hazel about this the moment Poppy and I committed to Fable, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Sending in tons of paperwork and handling a million phone calls to get the licenses and permits up to date was rough enough, even with help from Herman and Poppy. “I’ll bring you with me to Green Street when it’s all set up. Promise.”
After we say goodbye, I toss my phone on the counter, my ears straining for the sound of Poppy climbing onto the boat. On the couch, curled against my jacket, Gator blinks at me, that typical judgmental look in his bright eyes.
“What?” I tell him. “We have to eat. What am I supposed to do, not cook dinner?”
He keeps staring. His whiskers twitch.
“I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t a date.”
A yawn, as if to say, Sure, human.Enjoy telling yourself that.
“We’re stranded on a desert island together. Metaphorically speaking. This boat is like our shelter.” I can’t believe I’m babbling to the cat. I’m worse than Poppy when she gets going on a random topic. “Obviously I’m going to share my resources with her. I’m not going to let her starve.”
He gets up, stretching, his tail in the air, and kneads my jacket with his paws before settling down again. Facing away from me.
I turn to the stove. Great. Dismissed by the cat.
I’m not lying, though. This isn’t a date. We’ve shared plenty of meals. Just yesterday, we devoured a plate of steak and scallops together.
“Okay, yes,” I call over my shoulder. “You win. I’ve never cookedforher before. Not like this.” I scowl as I taste the stew again. Coq au vin, a French classic. It needs a another grind of pepper.
I haven’t touched Poppy since I came in my pants like a fucking teenager. It’s annoying, the way my body perks up when she’s nearby. I’m a hound on the scent, anticipating my reward. I want to taste her like I’ve never wanted to taste anything or anyone before.
I clear my throat at the memory of her taking a scallop into her mouth directly from my fingers. The way she licked her lips after was so erotic, it should be illegal. Why didn’t I take her right there on the kitchen floor?
Right. Chester bustling in with the revised cocktail menu.
I finally hear her footsteps on the stairs, and then she’s in the cabin, all breathless sunshine and rambling energy. She’s already talking a mile a minute.
“I love spending time with Ki,” she gushes. Gator leaps off the couch, wanting her to scratch him under the chin. She kneels to greet him. “She has a way better sense of humor than you. What are you cooking?”
“Coq au vin.”
She looks up at me with a blink. “Isn’t that recipe pretty involved? It needs to be marinated first, right?”
“Wasn’t that much work.” I clear my throat, all too aware of the heat pricking my nape.Nota date. Desert island. “Did you figure out what was missing from the dining room?”
