Part 8 (1/2)

”Wow,” I said, and the word was carried by the breeze and out to the expanse beyond us. Kai had led us to a gra.s.sy oval clearing perched on the side of a cliff. The Pacific Ocean unfolded like a handful of diamonds below us. A teasing, warm breeze tugged at my hair, sending s.h.i.+vers along my scalp and bringing with it the perfect and ancient smell of sand and sea. I drank in the panorama, the moving silver ribbons of water, the regal moon, the stars playing hide-and-seek with wispy clouds.

Kai said nothing and set the picnic basket down onto the gra.s.s.

We watched in silence as the moonlight danced on the slow waves, winking and gasping with each crest before tumbling onto the rocky beach below. I must have stood there longer than I realized because when I turned, Kai had lit three small lanterns and had shelved them among the rocks that formed a curve around the picnic spot. He was shaking out a blanket, and I stepped forward to help. We let it fall onto the gra.s.s, and I smoothed the fabric with one hand, making sure the front was parallel with the edge of the cliff.

I looked up. Kai had stopped moving and was standing still with several covered dishes in his arms. He looked as though he were trying very hard not to laugh.

”What?” I kept both hands on the blanket, pulling it taut to keep it wrinkle-free.

”Blanket okay? Should I go get a level?”

I pursed my lips but kept my hands on the ground. ”I like symmetry. And clean lines. And, um, perfect stuff.”

His laugh rolled like an undulating wave. Dropping to his knees, he set the dishes carefully on the blanket. ”The world must be a rough place for you, then, Miss Garrett. I'm sure it doesn't always follow your rules.”

”Oh, with enough persistence, things usually work out in my favor,” I said, distracted by the smells coming up from the plates he was uncovering.

He shook his head and handed me a package wrapped in foil. ”I'm pretty sure my asymmetrical knife work will offend your moral sensibilities, but try not to think too much about it. We have fresh mozz, heirloom tomatoes, basil, and a sprinkling of goat cheese on your panini. It was warm at one point this evening, but the flavors only get better as you let them moosh.”

”Moosh?” My stomach rumbled as I unwrapped the sandwich. ”Sounds technical.” I stopped talking because my first bite demanded a respectful silence. The crunch of crispy exterior gave way to an extroverted, summery flavor: notes of salt and a splash of bright tomato, still-warm mozzarella ... I heard a sigh escape my lips and saw Kai thoroughly enjoying my enjoyment. ”This,” I said, mouth still full, ”is perfect.”

His eyes widened around his own bite of panini. Blotting his chin with a napkin, he said, ”Good. That's what I was aiming for.” He pointed to a collection of plastic containers. ”After you've regained your composure, we also have my grandmother's famous new potato salad with bacon and cider vinaigrette, sliced mango and strawberries, and a triple-layer chocolate cake for dessert.”

”All right, what's the catch?” I speared a slice of mango with my fork. ”Do you live with your mother?”

”Not for the last sixteen years.”

”Have you ever filed for bankruptcy?”

”Nope.”

”All right, then,” I said, undeterred. ”Then you have a fetish. Something bizarre and off-putting that has frightened off all sorts of well-fed women before me. What is it?” I pointed my plastic fork at his chest. ”Feet? Power tools? Chipmunks?”

Kai had stopped chewing and stared at a point just above my head. When he finally spoke, I could tell he had to make an effort to piece together his thoughts. ”You know, I have heard the dating scene in New York is rough, but what kind of men have you had to wade through, Charlie?”

I giggled into my potato salad. ”The chipmunks were only rumors, but feet and power tools showed up on my online dating suggestion feed.” I stopped talking, horrified. What was with all the honesty? I just met this man, and he had me confessing to online dating profiles? Where is your dignity, woman?

Kai tore a bite of his panini with his hands. ”I'm going to forego the chance to mock you mercilessly about online dating and just move on to asking you the same question. What gives? You're smart, funny, attractive, and while you appear to have nearly debilitating perfectionist tendencies, you know your way around the kitchen. According to the law of averages, you could have been married to an eager Mormon dude by the age of nineteen, and any other red-blooded American male by twenty-five.”

I screwed up my face. ”Am I to respond in grat.i.tude for those words or should I shove you off the cliff? I'm really at war with myself on those two options.”

Kai lobbed a generous piece of chocolate cake onto my plate and handed me a fresh fork. ”Even we lowly short-order cooks know to offer a clean fork for dessert. Be nice.” He nodded to my plate, and I saw a ripple of tension in his jaw. He wants me to like the cake. d.a.m.n. It was going so well, and now I was going to have to lie.

I smiled at him, steeling myself for my most impressive falsehood. Manda always said I was an abysmal liar, and I hoped to heaven the darkness of the night would at least salvage a bit of the man's pride.

I pushed my fork through the top layer of creamy frosting, then all three layers of the cake. Keeping my eyes down, I put the fork to my mouth. He'd used good chocolate, I knew, and after a moment, I picked up a note of coffee, which only intensified the flavor of the chocolate. The frosting was decadent and smooth, but not cloying. In fact, the entire bite struck the precise balance of sa.s.s and sweet.

I looked up at Kai, who was trying to look busy cleaning up our dishes. ”This cake is so, so good. It's just the right kind of good.” I took another bite and Kai waited, his hands still now. ”I know what it is,” I said after another swallow. ”This cake reminds me of something. Not even something specific, but something ... homey. And real. And good.”

I stopped talking, hit with a sudden and unwelcome embarra.s.sment. I was pretty sure I'd crossed the line from compliment giver to creepy gusher. ”Sorry,” I muttered. ”I think I overused the word good a bit there. Not the most helpful adjective.”

Kai shook his head slowly, his attention solely on my face. ”I think goodness is entirely underrated.” The lamplight from the lanterns danced in his eyes. ”Glad you like my cake. I have to tell you there was some pressure trying to make a cake that would impress a fancy pastry chef.”

I smiled, feeling myself lean slightly toward him. ”Thank you for baking it for me. And for making me dinner.” I c.o.c.ked my head to one side. ”I've eaten some pretty amazing meals in the last few years, but I don't remember ever being this ... satisfied.” I was speaking quietly now, trying very hard to remember not to stare at Kai's lips. ”Your food satisfies. It's like a visit to a small town park. Or a knockout sunset. Or the feeling after going for a run in a summer rainstorm. Or-”

”Charlie.” Kai interrupted me, apparently feeling no such compulsion to avoid looking at people's lips. ”Very poetic. But please stop talking.”

His kiss, I was pleased to note, was a lot like his chocolate cake. Sweet with a little sa.s.s, and absolutely the best reason I'd ever had to shut up.

11.

I inhaled, breathing in the piquant scents of salt and earth and pine trees. I was momentarily confused. Where was I? Reality set in when I felt a pinecone tangled up in my hair. Cool, damp air had settled into the s.p.a.ce around me, and I could feel my clothes clinging to me in a decidedly not-indoor way. I bolted upright and saw Kai to my right, rustling but still asleep. At first glance, a pa.s.serby would think we were formerly wealthy homeless people, maybe victims of the dot-com bust. I still wore the cropped jacket, embroidered tank, and tailored jeans from the night before, though I'd shed my Toms at some point, probably after the chocolate cake and before the milky gray dawn arrived. Kai lay on his side, sandy curls running amok on his forehead, one arm cradling his head as a makes.h.i.+ft pillow. The lanterns had sputtered out long ago, and because of the clouds above and the quiet around us, I had no earthly idea of the actual time.

Trying not to wake Kai, I fumbled under the picnic blanket for my phone, wis.h.i.+ng I hadn't scoffed at that beeping locator keychain my mother had given me one Christmas. Just before I went into full-blown panic, I found the phone, nestled right where the small of my back had just rested. The tender ache now explained, I opened the home screen and gasped in horror: 8:16. I had planned on starting my morning inventory at Thrill no later than 7:00.

I scrambled to a seated position, my mind racing. My shoes were damp with dew, making it hard to get them on. I was pointing my toes and wiggling in a bizarre lower body s.h.i.+mmy when I realized Kai was propped on one elbow and staring at me. An impressive cowlick spiked a curl above his left eyebrow.

”Headed out?” he asked, amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes.

”It's so late,” I said, breathless but finally victorious with the shoes. ”I should have been at work over an hour ago. You, too!” I said, my anxiety suddenly doubling. ”It's after eight! People are probably lined up outside Howie's, and you're not there!”

”Hold on there, tiger,” Kai said, covering a yawn. ”Suns.h.i.+ne is opening up this morning with my sub cook, Hugh. They'll be fine.”

I was incredulous. ”You have a sub cook? But you own the restaurant. How do you know he'll do things right? What does he know about your grandma's pancakes?”

Kai watched me as I circled our little clearing to gather our mess. ”Hugh is a very capable cook. I trust him. And my grandma's pancakes aren't exactly rocket science.” He reached over to still my hands as I started to stack our dishes from the night before. ”Hey, take a deep breath. It's still early in the day, right? You've got plenty of time to make up for a late start.”

I stopped and considered his advice. He might be right-in fact he probably was right, but nope, I couldn't go there. I tried taking a few deep breaths, but it felt like cheating. I quickly resumed my real-life shallow breathing.

”So, we must have fallen asleep,” Kai said, his eyes sparking with mischief.

I shook my head, a smile creeping into my voice. ”I guess so. The last thing I remember is laughing at your lame Trivial Pursuit story-”

”That is a very interesting story,” he said, all seriousness.

”Please never, ever tell it again. Apparently it induces a deep, coma-like sleep in hapless victims.” I leaned over and kissed him lightly on the mouth, but he tugged me toward him and made me linger for more.

”I have to go,” I said in my kitchen voice when I pulled away.

He laughed, typically a response I did not receive when I used The Kitchen Voice. ”So you've said. Just five more minutes? I'll sprint with you back to your apartment.”

I shook my head and flicked a series of leaves off my jeans. ”Sorry. I can't. I'm freaking out right now and I have to go.”

”Hey, they can wait.” He tried pulling me to him, but I pushed back, feeling a chip descend on my shoulder.

”No, I can't. I'm the new girl. Remember? I still have a lot to prove, and I don't want to set a bad example.” And what I do is a little more complicated than frying eggs and flipping burgers, I thought, but did not say.