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“You, cooking in my kitchen, is the farthest thing from imposition.” If only she’d wear some kind of sexy apron and nothing underneath, it’d be a fucking fantasy come to life.
She held his gaze as if trying to see if he were genuine.
“Besides, I could use some more of your cooking.” He winked.
“Yeah, I liked those plantain things you made for the dance,” Aspen added as they approached Nash’s table. Emerson Fishing Co. was written in blue lettering on the white sign hanging from the top of the canopy over his setup.
“Nash.” Mason nodded.
Nash tipped his head. It was the most welcome anyone would get with the surly man. Nash came eye to eye with Mason, something few men could do in town at his six-foot-six height.
“What’s good?”
“All of it,” he deadpanned and then turned to Pippa. “And we use safe and responsible fishing practices, making our seafood ethical too.”
Mason chuckled and wrapped a hand around Aspen’s shoulder.
“That sounds so cool,” Pippa chirped.
Nash’s gaze bore into her, emotionless.
Pippa blinked and shifted on her feet awkwardly.
“Well, I think we’re gonna take a dozen soft-shelled lobsters, a few pounds of scallops, and some of that salmon. Might as well add some tuna steaks.” Mason pulled out his wallet. “Do we need anything else, Pippa?”
Nash got to work collecting his order.
“Else? Who are you feeding? An army?” she asked.
He smirked. “Just an ex-SEAL and a few friends. But I was hoping you’d help me do the feeding. What else do we need for the dinner party?”
“Dinner . . .” She blinked as if realizing he was serious. “Are you sure?”
“Unless you don’t want to?”
Her eyes softened, growing glassy before she cleared her throat and blinked rapidly. “Sounds like fun.” She turned to Nash. “Do you have any shrimp?”
He grumbled something unintelligible as Anthony, Bently and Belle’s foster son, jogged over and scooted behind Nash’s table, grabbing an apron from a box in the corner. “Sorry I’m late.”
Nash handed him a couple bags with lobsters. “Here, ring them up.”
Anthony smiled at Mason, his grin widening when his eyes landed on Mason’s daughter. He straightened his spine and puffed out his chest. “Hey, Aspen.”
Mason’s brain temporarily derailed. Oh, no. I’m not ready for this yet.
“Hey.” Aspen tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Saw your soccer game last weekend. You did really good.” Anthony’s voice cracked.
Aspen blushed. “I missed the goal.”
Anthony shrugged. “Happens to all of us.”
Maybe Mason did like the kid after all.
Nash set another bag of seafood on the table, interrupting the teens’ moment. Pippa was biting back a smile as she flicked her gaze to the kids and back to Mason as if to say, Aren’t they cute?
He narrowed his gaze and shook his head. No. I just tackled her period. I’m not ready for boys yet.
