His answering smile was slow spreading. “Oh.”
“So she’s taken it upon herself to prepare something for our dinner tonight. I told her I had no clue what I was gonna cook, but it had to be special, ya know, because of the perfect date pressure you put me under.”
He snorted. “I told you I don’t need anything extravagant. It’s the company and conversation I scrutinise. Not the food.”
“Good to know the pressure is on my personality and not anything else.”
Lawson laughed. “Exactly.”
*
After parting ways with Lawson, I knocked on Remmy’s front screen door. The wooden door was open to let the breeze in, so I could see inside. I heard little footsteps before I saw the culprit. Luca, all long blond curls and cute dimples, wearing only a pair of shorts, sprang to life in front of the door with a giggle. “UncaJack!”
“Hey tiger,” I replied.
Luca roared at me just as Remmy came to the door, wiping her hands on a tea towel. She let me in and Luca launched himself at me. I picked him up. “Jeez kid, you’re getting too big! Have you been playing in your mum’s garden? You’re growing like a tomato plant!”
Luca laughed. “I show you,” he said, squirming to get down. I followed him into the kitchen, where he leaned up on his tiptoes so he could reach and pull over a bowl of home-grown vegetables. “These are from my garden.” He reached in and took a tomato in one hand, a zucchini in the other. His little fingers barely held them. “I can make ratooey.”
“Ratatouille,” Remmy gently corrected.
Jeez. The kid was four and was a better cook than me. I guess that’s what happened when your parents, French and Portuguese, were chefs. “Make sure you save a seat for me when you do, ’kay?”
The kid beamed before running to the fridge to get himself a drink. He put the jug of juice on the counter, and Remmy watched on as he poured himself a cup. “He’ll hold you to that,” she said fondly.
“Good. I’ll look forward to it.”
“Next week?”
“It’s a date.”
She smirked. “Speaking of dates…” Remmy went to the fridge and pulled out a tray that had some kind of baking paper pouch on it. “For a perfect date tonight.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” I said kindly.
“It was no problem. I was making it for our dinner, so it was easy to make enough for you.” She unwrapped the corner of the paper pouch. “I put that twenty you put in my till this morning to good use. It’s rainbow trout with a splash of Thai spices. I wasn’t sure if Lawson liked spicy food, so I kept it fairly tame. All you need to do is pop it in a hot oven for twenty minutes. It’ll steam in the paper. Then serve with steamed veggies and you’re golden.”
“You’re an angel.”
Nico walked into the kitchen. “Ah, the man with the perfect date,” he said with a warm handshake. “Good to see you, my friend.”
I chuckled. “Well, I’m aiming for three outta three in the perfect date score. I think Remmy’s almost got me home with this.” I gestured to the trout she’d prepared.
Nico rubbed his belly. “Don’t know how I’m not the size of a barn.” He kissed Remmy’s cheek. “The hardships of marrying a pastry chef.”
“Well, I don’t know what I’ll cook for Date Number Four,” I said. “Don’t know what will beat fresh trout prepared by a chef.”
“I cook for you, UncaJack,” Luca said. He was kneeling on a stool at the bench next to me, sipping his cup of juice. “I make ratooey.”
“Oh Luca,” Remmy said. “UncaJack doesn’t want us there on a date, darling.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “And I’m sure Lawson wouldn’t either.” Because if he didn’t want to spend any time with my dearest friends, then maybe there was no long-term hope for us. “We can have dinner at my place. Only if it’s alright with you.”
“Can I, Mama? Can I?” Luca pleaded.
Seriously, the kid was so stinking cute with those big eyes and dimples.
I gave Remmy my best grin. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And I know you’re itching to give Lawson the third degree.”
Nico snorted out a laugh. “She is.”
“Then let me make dessert,” Remmy said.
“You’re doing enough!” I tried to reason. I knew Luca cooking meant that Remmy was supervising, and by supervising, I meant doing most of it.
Remmy waved her hand in the air, dismissing my concern. “Ah, it’s nothing.”
Nico gave me a sympathetic smile. “You know she’s not happy unless she’s feeding someone.”
That was true. “Well, thank you. I’m very grateful.”
“Wait until after dinner before you thank us,” Remmy said, winking toward Luca. “And I suggest you tell Lawson before you drop him into this.”
“Ah, where’s the fun in that?” I asked. “Let’s see how he likes surprises.”
Remmy laughed. “I guess it’s one way to see someone’s true colours.” She handed me the tray of trout. “Here. Don’t want to keep him waiting. We’ll be at your place at six tomorrow night, that way we can be out of your hair by seven thirty.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. Nico laughed, and Luca was busy already lining up his tomatoes and zucchinis along the counter.
I gave Remmy a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. And I’ll see you then.”
*
By the time I got home, I barely had enough time to shower and get some veggies sorted for steaming before Lawson arrived. I heard his Defender pull up and met him at the front door. He’d showered too, and was now wearing brown pants, a faded denim long-sleeve shirt, and his trademark bow tie. He took my breath away. I leaned in and kissed him softly, square on the lips. “Hello there.”
He produced a small bottle and frowned. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring a gift or token of thanks. I know it’s customary for the guest to do so, but I couldn’t think of anything that seemed appropriate or that the local supermarket would sell. But I found this, and given it’s a local product, and you like to cook, I thought…”
I took the bottle and read the label. It was a locally produced gourmet strawberry coulis. “You don’t have to bring anything, but thank you.”
He rewarded me with a smile that made my stomach flip. “Something smells amazing.”
“Dinner, which I can’t take credit for. It was all Remmy’s doing. Hope you like a Thai-inspired trout?”
He hummed. “Sounds lovely.” We walked inside where he gave Rosemary a welcoming pat, and I thought now was a good time as any to bring up dinner plans for tomorrow night. “Now, I don’t want to assume there will be a Date Number Four, but I might have already organised something…”
“Oh?” He leaned against the kitchen counter, completely at ease. “You’re that confident to presume a fourth date?”
I shrugged at him. “Confident. Hopeful. Same thing, really.”
He smiled and a faint blush covered his cheeks. “I’ll have to check my schedule, but I think I’m free.”
I chuckled. “Good. Because I have a personal chef lined up to cook here, just for us.”
He stared at me. “Are you serious?”
I nodded. “Yep. He’s a cutie too. There’s a downside, though.”
“What’s that?”
“We won’t be dining alone.”