Page 25 of The Sailor

Marit chuckled. “Yes. You really don’t watch much TV, do you?”

“No. Anyway, the last kind of place I wanted to open was another lobster shack. But honestly, it makes sense. People around here love their seafood and lobster, and the tourists kind of expect lobster rolls. But I wanted to put my own spin on it. Make it different.”

“Well, you’ve succeeded. Because these mushroom bites are freaking delicious and like nothing I’ve had . . . especially not from a lobster shack.”

“That means a lot coming from someone who deals with lobsters for a living.”

“Living is the key word,” Marit said with a small laugh. “At least, they’re living when I hand them off to someone.”

Zach rested his head in his palm and watched her eat another stuffed mushroom.

“What? Do I have cheese on my chin?” she asked, picking up her napkin and wiping her mouth.

“No. I just love watching people enjoy something I’ve made with my own two hands. And knowing you’re enjoying them is even more deeply satisfying.”

“Why?”

The thing was, Zach wasn’t exactly sure. He’d fed a lot of people over the years. But there was something about watching this woman eat something he’d prepared. Sitting at his table, in his private space, with him. It was intimate in a way he hadn’t expected.

The timer he’d set for the chicken saved him from having to answer. He got up and headed to the oven.

It wasn’t long before they were both eating the chicken parmesan he’d whipped up. It was good. Although it could’ve been better, at least to his taste buds, if he’d had more time. But once again, Marit praised the meal and his cooking skills. And so he felt proud. Happy that he was the one providing her sustenance.

It wasn’t until after they’d finished their meals with the donuts he’d purchased earlier, washed the dishes and put everything away, that Zach realized how unfortunate it was that he didn’t have a couch. He couldn’t sit next to Marit and subtly put his arm on the back of the couch, which would eventually end up around her shoulders. Damn it.

“You want to stay and watch something? I could find a movie or something on Netflix. That’s the only app I’ve got.”

“Sure.”

They walked into the living area, and Zach gestured to the recliners. “Take your pick.”

“Which one are you sitting in?” Marit asked.

Zach shrugged. “I usually sit in that one,” he said, pointing to the one on the right.

“Then I’ll sit there too . . . if that’s okay.”