Yum, indeed. He snickered. “Not the praise I’m used to, but it’ll do.”
“Well, I’m no Michelin Guide critic. Yum is as good as it gets.” She laughed then and raised her glass. “The tulips are a nice touch, Alec. I’m sensing a theme here with all the flowers.”
“Bonus points for keen observation, Ms. Cabot-Baxter.” If Alec weren’t acutely aware of everything about Colby, he might’ve missed the brief moment of tension in her shoulders when he’d mentioned her married name. “Finish up, there’s more to come.”
“My mom will be so jealous.” Colby spooned another mouthful. “Just today she was reminiscing about the fruit tarts you used to bring her.”
“I’ll bring her a little takeout box when I see my mother tomorrow night.”
“She’d love that.” Colby’s grateful smile melted him, like always.
“Perhaps I can help you fill that so-called black hole of neediness, since your brother won’t.” He wouldn’t ask why Colby didn’t prod Hunter for more help. She’d always been the caretaker in that family. He suspected it had been some time since anyone had taken care of her. A role he’d happily adopt through placating her mom.
“A chef and a caretaker?” Her brows rose, and then she chuckled. “Careful not to bite off more than you can chew.”
“Is that a lame attempt at a culinary joke?” He sipped his drink.
“Stop talking and let me enjoy this green soup.” She put her finger to her lips to shush him.
He envied that finger. “Take your time while I finish making the next course.”
Alec worked quickly, infusing the salmon confit with a brown butter hollandaise, garnished with young asparagus and beetroot, along with some daylilies. “I hope you like salmon.”
“Who doesn’t?” She craned her neck to peek at the plate in his hand.
“Exactly.” He set the plate down, and she let out a sigh.
“That’s really pretty. I feel like I should be taking pictures and posting them on Instagram.”
“Well, they’d certainly be more enticing than a dull-brown photo of chicken marsala.” He cleared his throat.
Colby fell silent for a moment or two while eating. “This must’ve taken you all afternoon.”
Alec shrugged. It had been his pleasure, in more ways than one. Of course, sitting across from her tonight had been the best part of all. He could almost pretend it was a date. Almost.
“You’ve always been so passionate about food I suppose it didn’t surprise me today when you snapped about the menu.”
He wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
“Apology accepted. And I’m sorry I insulted you.” Colby cut more salmon, her voice soft yet strong. “But Alec, I won’t be manipulated and bullied in my own restaurant.”
“I understand.” Did that mean that, even after all this, she wasn’t persuaded to give him control of the menu? Would he be forced to walk away? Because he knew he couldn’t make a career of overseeing grilled fillet, baked potatoes “with all the fixins,” and steamed vegetables. “Before you make any final decisions, how about la pièce de résistance. I haven’t forgotten about your sweet tooth.”
She smiled. “You’re playing me well. Fitting together all the pieces like another kind of puzzle.”
He collected their plates without confessing. Despite years of accumulated observation and fascination, she’d likely be the one puzzle he’d never be able to solve. “Excuse me.”
When he returned, she clapped her hands. “Ooh, pretty. What is it?”
“Pink-lemonade lavender thyme sorbet, with mint and violet garnish.”
Feminine, complex, and beautiful, just like Colby. A tiny nod to that tenderhearted person who wasn’t afraid to show compassion to her neighbors, because he remembered her even if she didn’t.
She didn’t even wait for him to sit before she tasted it. “Oh! This is delish.”
“Yum?” he teased.
She shook her head, savoring another bite of sorbet in her mouth. “Double yum.”
“I’m deeply humbled.” He spread his hand across his chest and bowed his head.
“I doubt it.” She smirked.
She licked her spoon, glazing her lips with sorbet. Despite everything standing between them—past and present—he wanted to kiss her. Sweet, citrusy, sticky kisses. He almost groaned at the thought.
While he fantasized about her mouth, she’d obviously turned her thoughts back to business.
“Alec, in all seriousness, can you compromise? Can you work to make my dream happen without replacing it with your own?” She sat back, hand on her stomach, looking both sated and contemplative.
He paused, thinking about what he could and couldn’t do. “That depends.”
She raised her brows. “Go on.”
“Did you enjoy this meal?”
“You know I did.”
He leaned forward, strung tight with the need to be understood. “If you didn’t know me, and if this was your one and only experience with food from my kitchen, would you return again to see what else I might create?”
“Yes.” She looked at him now, her gaze softening. “Yes, I’d come back.”
Perhaps that second glass of prosecco played with his head, but it almost sounded like something more than the simple answer he’d requested. Might she come back here, to eat with him?
Candlelight glinted off her wedding band, reminding him of the truth. He pushed his foolish wish aside and pressed her in order to secure her cooperation. “If I’d grilled a decent steak, would you have had as much fun experiencing the meal?”
“No.” Two little lines appeared between her brows. Her thinking face. He resisted the urge to press his lips to her forehead and kiss away those lines.
“That’s my point, Colby. I’m not trying to usurp your dream. Just let me make A CertainTea an experience your customers will remember. One they’ll share with friends and on Facebook or whatever. We can create buzz with the right menu.” He waved his hand over the table. “Simple foods served exquisitely.”
She stared at him as if trying to judge his sincerity. “Okay, let’s try to make this work. Come tomorrow with some ideas to discuss. We can meet at nine, and I’ll make sure the other staff arrives by ten o’clock.”
“Thank you.” Saying less would be the right strategy. He’d just won a major battle.
“Thank you.” She rested her chin in her hand. “That was the best meal I’ve had in ages.”
“Does it rate a triple yum?” Suddenly Alec felt fifty pounds lighter.
She laughed. “Well, I can’t stroke your ego too much. Besides, you don’t want to peak too soon, right?”
“No.” He’d always preferred the slow build to a fast burn.
“Let me help you clean up, then I’ll get out of your hair.” She took their bowls into the kitchen. He followed with their glasses, wishing she’d decide to stay longer.
“Hunter says you still live in the city.”
“Yes.” A pained look flared, making him regret his thoughtless comment. “I moved to a different neighborhood, closer to my old office. Now it’s not so convenient, though. I should probably think about selling it and coming back this way.”