A Mother's Homecoming(59)
She was able to laugh it off. “Don’t be. It’s not the first time someone’s asked me that question. I’ll stick with sweet tea or, if you don’t have any, filtered water. But you should feel free to have wine or anything else you’d like to drink tonight.”
“I’m fine with water, too,” he said promptly. “The sight of you in that red dress is all the buzz I need for one evening.”
She stretched up on her toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Flatterer. So what’s on the menu for tonight?”
He rocked back, giving her a wolfish smile. “Well …”
Pam smacked him lightly on his arm. “The culinary menu, Mr. One Track Mind!”
“Shrimp pomodoro over angel-hair pasta with Caesar salad. I made the dressing myself. And dessert is a surprise, but trust me, it’s not store bought.”
“You showing off for me?” She liked it.
“Just demonstrating that I think you’re worth the effort. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to stir the sauce.”
She followed him into the kitchen, where she kicked off her shoes. It was a shame, really—they were very sexy shoes—but it was just so homey and inviting in here. She wanted to be comfortable, enjoy the delicious smells and Nick’s company.
They talked nonstop while he finished preparing their dinner. He told her about how he’d earned Donald Bauer’s respect when he was only twenty, juggling a construction job and parenthood. Bauer Construction had been started by Donald’s father, but the man had no sons who could take it over after him. When Nick returned to Mimosa from North Carolina, Donald had not just rehired him, he’d started grooming him to manage the entire organization.
They discussed Pam’s renovations on the house, which were going really well. While Aunt Julia couldn’t do any jobs that required heavy lifting, she had an eye for color and detail and had become Pam’s unofficial decorating consultant. Pam also mentioned that several of the people she’d met at the local AA meetings had stopped by, seeming to find the manual labor as cathartic as she did; respecting the confidentiality of other members, she didn’t tell Nick that one of those people worked for him.
“Voilà!” Nick stepped back from two perfectly plated meals, spreading his hands in front of him. He winked at her. “Damn, I’m good.”
“I believe that’s for me to decide,” she teased.
He came around the other side of the counter to sit with her. “My daughter would be so jealous. This is one of her favorite dishes.”
Pam bit her lip. “She doesn’t know, does she? That I’m here?”
He shook his head. “I thought it best not to tell her. It’s not like I consider you some shameful secret. I just …”
“You did the right thing.” This could be confusing for a girl. Heck, it was confusing for Pam.
It’s not rocket science. He’s a very attractive man you care a lot about, and you’re two consenting adults enjoying a romantic evening. Beyond that … Well, she wasn’t sure, but the policy of taking one day at a time had been serving her well so far.
They talked more about Faith and the foods she liked. “It’s hard for me to believe that the young woman who now requests chicken alfredo or shrimp pomodoro as her birthday dinner is the same one who used to consider hot dogs sliced up in macaroni the most sought-after meal in the world,” Nick said fondly.
Pam grinned. “What’s not to believe—they’re practically all three the same dishes. Protein, pasta, a little sauce.”
“Yeah. I’m sure fine Italian restaurants will start serving mac and weenies any day now.”
They also discussed Pam’s aunt and uncle. She talked about how amazing it was to almost feel as if she had functional parents for the first time in her life. But she stopped short of confiding that they’d once entertained the idea of challenging Mae for custody. That seemed too heavy a topic for the fun, flirty meal they were sharing.
“That was wonderful,” Pam said, rolling her shoulders. If her neck and arms didn’t ache, the last hour and a half would have qualified as heavenly.
Nick tilted his head. “Glad you enjoyed the food, but do you realize you keep rubbing your neck and grimacing?”
“Have I?” she asked sheepishly. Nuts. What was the point of Dawn making her look beautiful if Pam was going to ruin it by making contorted faces all night? “I took some ibuprofen before I came over, but I guess it hasn’t really kicked in.”