Page 18 of Chasing Amanda

“My mom came in, saw what I was doing, and rescued my cookies. The peanut butter and chocolate chips had melted into a horrible, globby mess. She lectured me about how dangerous the oven could be. I was devastated. But that night, she taught me how to make peanut butter cookies.

“They were so tasty, right from the oven. My dad came in, and my brothers. They were both teenagers, and they always had better things to do than hang out with me. But when they smelled the cookies, they wandered in to taste them.” Amanda could still remember how it felt having her family gathered around to eat. Not because they’d oohed and aahed over the cookies, though they had, just to be nice, but because the cookies had brought everyone together at a time when they’d all been so disjointed. The boys with their sports and dad with his work and mom with all her social functions. But for just a few minutes, they’d been a family again. Laughing and enjoying each other. “I loved that I had a part in bringing everyone together. I’ve wanted to be a cook ever since.”

“It sounds nice.”

“It was one of those perfect family moments, you know?”

“Sure.” But his smile faded.

She tried to muster the courage to ask him about it. But he was so…intimidating. Quiet and tough. Older, she thought. But not too old. Not the kind of old that would make her hate herself later.

“You want to work at a restaurant someday?” he asked.

“Probably. It’d be fun to be a head chef at some fancy place. Or maybe just a little family restaurant. Or maybe I’ll be a caterer. That’s kind of my thing, bringing people together.”

“You’ll be great at whatever you do.”

Maybe. At that moment, she was curious about the man who sat beside her. What made him tick? What had compelled him to step in to protect her, then track her down? Then ask her out?

The thought that this strong, handsome man might be interested in her, romantically, had her silly heart racing.

She barely knew him, but what she knew, she liked. No matter what he felt about her, she was definitely interested in him.

CHAPTER TEN

The restaurant was a casual beachside place decorated with an abundance of buoys and lobster traps and nets and oars. The tables and chairs of scuffed dark wood matched the floor, which felt just a little gritty with sand beneath Mark’s sneakers as he followed Amanda and the host across the dining room. Just a few of the tables were occupied, and he was pleased with their table next to a window that overlooked the patio and, beyond that, the Atlantic.

They’d barely taken their chairs when a server stopped. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Diet Coke,” Amanda said.

“Water for me.”

The server left, and Amanda settled in to study the menu.

Mark studied her, fascinated. She’d read for a minute, then her eyes would scrunch together, and a wrinkle would appear between her eyebrows.

Was she worried about the prices?

He glanced at his menu. “Order whatever you want. I’m getting the surf and turf.” Steak and lobster. The only thing on the menu that simply read, market price. It didn’t matter to him what it cost. He’d be eating nothing but government issued meals for a year at least. Besides, he’d skipped breakfast in a weird attempt to get the day over with sooner. No breakfast. Early lunch. Have Amanda home by midafternoon with her pepper spray and key chain and safety tips.

He planned to be done with her by dinnertime.

Except, if he really wanted to do that, he could’ve taken her to lunch in Providence. Even better, he could’ve dropped the bag of self-defense items at her door with five minutes of instructions.

What was he doing at the beach? In November?

Her hands shook as she brushed her hair behind her ear. She’d dropped her guard for a few minutes in the car when she told him about her family. She’d smiled a genuine smile, even laughed a little. But then she’d stiffened and clammed up. Now, she read the menu with those bright blue eyes as if there’d be a test later. Every so often, she’d mutter something under her breath. “The fish and chips look good.” Then, “I wonder how much garlic they put in the scampi.” And, “Ooh, I haven’t had haddock in a long time.” He hardly heard her, more interested in watching her lips move.

She was captivating.

Finally, she set the menu down. “Fish tacos.”

“Seriously?” He looked at the menu and saw that it was one of the cheapest seafood items listed. “Get what you want, please.”

“I want the fish tacos. I’ve never had them, and they sound good.”

He sat back. “If that’s what you want.”