Page 39 of Echoes at Driftwood Cottage

“Is there any other way?”

“That’s my favorite supper,” Murphy admitted, waving an arm toward the meat counter. “I just got in a fresh shipment this morning from San Sebastian’s local butcher. Nothing but grass-fed beef.”

“Now you’re talking. Because I’m running out of time. I need to grab what I need and get the roast in the oven. Otherwise, I’m looking at serving half-raw everything.”

“Tell you what. You grab the vegetables in produce,” Murphy suggested. “Let me pick out the roast.”

“Thanks, but could we keep it around three pounds? Anything larger won’t cook in time,” Rowan pointed out.

“Three pounds it is,” Murphy promised, darting off toward the meat counter more excited as his customer.

Chapter Ten

The moment Daniel walked into the house, he caught the smell of home cooking. It made his mouth water. It wasn’t just the aroma of roasting meat but the unmistakable mingling of apples and cinnamon that hung in the air.

Rowan met him at the door. “How was your day?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many people came through the door asking for orange blossom flavor. It wasn’t the cones or cups they wanted either but quarts of the stuff to take home. We went through gallons.”

Rowan’s smile widened. “And you said Mondays were slow.”

“You made pie,” Daniel said, his eyes drifting to the hard shell of crust cooling on the counter.

“I said I’d handle the dessert.” She stared at his empty hands. “Where’s the backup ice cream though?”

“That’s what I’m telling you. We ran out of orange blossom and lavender. I left the machine churning. I need to head back there later and transfer the batches into the freezer.”

He spotted the linen tablecloth, the good dishes and silverware she’d set out, and the lit candles on the small kitchen table. “You didn’t have to make such a fuss.”

She perused his tall, lanky frame from top to bottom. She stepped forward to run her hands along his chest. “Oh, I think I did. Besides, this is me settling into my own home as an adult, letting go of childhood, and entering the land of home ownership, thanks to Gran. I have such plans for this place. Like you did with your house, I intend to slap some fresh paint on the walls, redo the rest of the house, yank up the old carpeting in the bedrooms, and put my own touches everywhere. I want to decorate the walls with splashes of color and add some houseplants, watch them grow. Now let’s eat before it all gets cold.”

“Need some help?” he asked, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt.

“You could open the bottle of wine I picked up this afternoon. Dancing in the Moonlight’s newest Pinot Noir, a blend of toasty mocha, dark cherry, and jammy fruit with a hint of vanilla tossed in for good measure. That’s what the label promises anyway.”

He grabbed the bottle of red and scooped up the corkscrew to twist and yank out the cork before filling two glasses. But all the while, he watched as she flitted around the room, humming to herself, getting the meat sliced before neatly arranging the vegetables around it on a serving platter. The scene felt like home to him. It was far too early in the relationship for him to feel this way. But he’d never met a woman so genuine and down to earth.

She could feel his eyes on her as she bustled around the kitchen, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she relished the attention. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her like that—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his before dimming the kitchen light.

“Candlelight makes a simple meal so much better. Don’t you think?” she asked, her voice soft as she took a step toward him, her hand reaching for the glass of wine he held. Her fingers brushed against his, sending little shivers down her spine.

“There’s nothing simple about this,” he murmured, pulling out the chair for her, his mind splintering into a million lustful ideas. She looked so radiant under the warm glow of the candlelight. Her rusty auburn hair—slightly damp from the shower—smelled like vanilla and warm coconut. She wore a simple green dress that matched her eyes and hugged her curves in all the right places.

“How’s the wine?”

The question brought him back from his lusty thoughts to reality. He sent her a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Clearing his throat, he took a sip. “I think Hannah and Caleb have outdone themselves. This is good, really good.”

“Mmm,” she whispered, taking a sip of the wine for confirmation. It tasted rich and full-bodied, not unlike the man sitting across from her. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep her thoughts from wandering down that path to the bedroom.

Across the table, he watched her, his gaze intense as he sampled the roast. “The wine’s good but not as great as the food.”

There was a moment she almost suggested they head to another part of the house. But she’d gone to a lot of trouble to make this dinner special. She refused to let her hormones rule.

Sensing they were on the brink of foregoing the meal, Daniel raised his glass. “Here’s to your exceptional culinary skills. I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me like this.”

“Then we’d better make the most of it. Remember to save room for pie.”

From that point, the conversation flowed. They talked about everything from their favorite movies to their wildest, craziest outdoor adventures, keeping the dialogue upbeat.

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