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“Max hasn’t looked this happy in years,” she remarked, studying the bouquet I admired. “It’s good to see, dear.”
“Uh, thank you, Mrs. Patterson.” I blushed, fumbling with the flowers. Unsure of how much she knew, I added, “I’m just glad I can be here to help with Lucy and Logan.”
“Of course, dear,” she nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Now, bring those beautiful flowers home and brighten the table for tonight’s dinner.”
“Will do, Mrs. Patterson,” I murmured, my heart swelling with gratitude and hope.
“I arrived at the Thornton home, carrying a basket of fresh ingredients, still echoing with the words of Pebble Point’s residents. They had warmly accepted me as one of their own. While the rumors about Max and me were pervasive, they also hinted at the possibility of a deeper connection beyond mere professionalism.”
“Hey! Need some help there?” A familiar voice called out, and I turned to see Lucy skipping towards me down the garden path.
“Thanks, kiddo,” I said gratefully, handing her some lighter bags. “Where’s Logan?”
“Playing in his room,” she replied, beaming up at me. “What are we making for dinner tonight?”
“Ah, it’s a surprise,” I teased, ruffling her curls as we returned to the Thornton house.
“In the heart of the kitchen, the tantalizing scent of bell peppers and fresh herbs wafted, promising an enchanting meal. I was preparing a Mediterranean-inspired pasta dish featuring bell peppers and herbs. With precision, I sautéed the bell peppers until they charred slightly, releasing a smoky-sweet aroma. Once they had softened, I stirred in a medley of freshly chopped garlic, onion, and cherry tomatoes, allowing the ingredients to meld.”
Beside me, pasta bubbled away, turning to the perfect al dente. As it cooked, I delicately sliced a handful of fresh basil and rosemary, ready to garnish the dish with their aromatic essence. A liberal drizzle of olive oil would complete the dish, making a lush and delightful sauce.
My phone vibrated, breaking my culinary trance. It was a message from Ava.
“Hey girl! How’s the beach life treating you? Met anyone interesting? ??”
With a grin, I responded, “Life here is... different. Peaceful, serene. And maybe, just maybe, there’s someone I’m a bit curious about. But I’m keeping it low-key for now.”
Her reply was quick and teasing, “A mystery man? Oh, Mia! You can’t keep me in suspense like that. Sending you all my love, and can’t wait to hear more!”
I sent back a laughing emoji and promised to fill her in soon. As I finished preparing the meal, I felt grateful for the constants in my life, like Ava’s unwavering support and the new adventures that lay ahead.
Chapter 8
Thankfully,thenextmorningand early afternoon passed by uneventfully. The sun had begun its descent, casting a warm glow over Pebble Point, when I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door. The creak of the hinge seemed to echo as I swung it open to reveal Max standing there, holding a bouquet of fresh wildflowers, looking slightly awkward.
“Thought you might like these,” he murmured, his voice a gentle, soothing caress that seemed to ripple through the air, bringing with it a hint of warmth and comfort. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his eyes avoiding direct contact with mine as if shyness had colored his cheeks a faint shade of pink.
“Max, these are lovely,” I said, my voice infused with genuine admiration as I carefully accepted the flowers from him. Their petals felt soft and delicate against my fingers, and their sweet scent enveloped me like a warm embrace, a fragrant reminder of nature’s beauty. “Thank you,” I added with a warm smile, my gratitude spilling over into the tender words.
My heart raced, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted this unexpected gesture. The scent of the freshly picked roses filled the room, their delicate fragrance enveloping me. Was there more to this than just a simple offering of flowers? I tried to quiet my thoughts and focus on the moment, savoring the feeling of being genuinely appreciated. The soft petals brushed against my fingertips as I held the bouquet, their vibrant colors a vivid contrast against the room’s muted decor.
The warmth of the wildflowers in my hands starkly contrasted with the sudden chill I felt as Max cleared his throat. “You know that Lucy and Logan are at their friends’ for a sleepover tonight? I thought... maybe we could go out for dinner? Just the two of us?” His voice wavered slightly, betraying his uncertainty.
“Like... a date?” The words escaped my lips before I could even think them through. My voice trembled, and I could feel a warm blush spreading across my cheeks. My hand flew to my mouth, but it was already too late. The faint scent of Max’s cologne, a mixture of citrus and cedarwood, filled the air, adding an intriguing layer to the moment. My heart raced with anticipation as I searched Max’s face, trying to decipher his intentions.
A look of vulnerability flashed across his features before he responded, his voice steadier than before. The subtle quiver in his lips and the way his eyes momentarily dropped added depth to his vulnerability. “Um... well, I wouldn’t say ‘date’ necessarily. Just... dinner? Two adults having a meal. Nothing fancy.” The low hum of soft jazz music played in the background, coming from the next room, setting a relaxing ambiance as we talked. His laughter was contagious, and I couldn’t help but join in, my nerves dissipating slightly.
“Alright,” I agreed, feeling the excitement bubble up inside me. “Just two friends enjoying dinner together. Sounds lovely.” I could feel my cheeks burning.
He hesitated for a moment, his fingers drumming against the doorframe. Then, with a hint of enthusiasm, he suggested, “How about that new Italian place, Casa D’Oliva? Pete at the station said it’s real good, and I thought it might be a nice change of pace.”
“Ooh, I’ve been wanting to try that place!” I exclaimed, my curiosity piqued by his choice. The thought of warm pasta and candlelight sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. “Sounds perfect.”
“Great,” Max said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a gentle smile. I could see he was pleased with my reaction, and it only added to my excitement for the evening ahead. And though Max had insisted that it wasn’t a date, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, it could be the start of something more.
The cool evening air enveloped us as we stepped outside, and I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders.
The walk to the restaurant was quiet and comfortable, with occasional small talk about Pebble Point, the weather, and town gossip. “Have you heard what happened at the bakery?” I asked, referring to the recent string of unfortunate mishaps. Max chuckled as he humorously recounted the story of Mr. Jackson inadvertently using salt instead of sugar in a batch of cookies.
