Summer Secrets - Barbara Freethy [42]
"Kate, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say thank you for the casserole. It was incredible and very much appreciated."
"You're welcome," Kate said, smiling at the children. "Hello, Sammy, Joe. Did you like my noodles?"
"They loved them," the woman answered. "In fact, they want to know why I can't cook like that."
The woman sent Tyler a curious look. Kate intercepted the look and, after a moment's hesitation, said, "This is Tyler Jamison. My friend, Ruth Lewis."
"Nice to meet you," Ruth said, her brown eyes very curious. "Are you here for the race?"
"Yes, I am."
"My husband, Larry, was going to race but he had an accident a few days ago."
"I'm sorry," Tyler murmured,
"Oh, he'll be okay. He just won't be able to race until next year. Kate saved me by making me enough dinners to fill my freezer."
"It was nothing. I like to cook," Kate said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And let me know if you need anything else. Oh, I also picked out a few books for Larry in case he goes crazy waiting for that leg to heal. I'll bring them by tomorrow."
"I can stop by the bookstore and get them."
"It's not a problem."
"Thanks again," Ruth said. "I hope you enjoy Castleton, Mr. Jamison."
"I'm sure I will." Tyler paused, waiting until Ruth and her children had walked out of the dining room. "So you're a good neighbor and a good cook. I'm impressed. Was that a skill you learned after your mother died?"
"Actually before. My grandmother taught me. She used to live with us when I was really small. She'd cook all the meals. I think she and my mother carved out their territories early, and they rarely crossed the lines."
"Your mother's mother or your father's mother?"
"My father's mother. She could make a feast out of nothing. She'd take celery and carrots and onions and turn it into a thick, rich stew. It was like magic."
He leaned forward, captivated by the softness in her voice when she spoke of her grandmother. He had a feeling Kate was a woman who still believed in magic. He wondered if she could possibly rub off on him, but he doubted it. The thick skin he'd grown repelled magic and all other silly sentimental notions.
"My grandmother died when I was eleven," Kate added. "After that, my mom and I split the cooking and, when my mom got sick, it became my job."
"And are you as good a cook or magician as your grandmother?"
"Oh, no, I'm not nearly as good. I've never quite mastered the concept of completely letting the recipe go and making it up as I go along. My grandmother knew instinctively what would work and what wouldn't. I still need a cookbook and a measuring cup.
"What about you?"
"Me? I need a microwave and a frozen dinner. Or a good take-out menu."
Kate laughed, and the warm sound ran through him like a pretty song that he wanted to hear over and over again. She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. "This is one thing I've never been able to master, a perfect cup of coffee."
"Now, that's something I am good at, as long as you like your coffee strong and black."
"Actually a little hazelnut and vanilla are my preference."
"That's sissy coffee."
"I don't have anything to prove." Kate sat back in her seat. "Thanks for the dinner. It was a nice break."
"You're welcome. But I'm sure there must be lots of men on this island interested in giving you a break."
"Is that a roundabout way of asking me if I'm seeing someone?"
"Are you?"
She hesitated. "Not that it's any of your business, but, no, not at the moment. I do get asked out. Just because I was free tonight does not mean that I'm not usually busy on the weekends."
"I believe you," he said with amusement.
She made a face at him. "Actually, I'm not all that busy," she admitted. "I've even been