Angels at the Table (Angels Everywhere #7)(31)

“It’s so good to see you,” she said, swirling fresh sliced mushrooms around a pan over the gas-fired stove. She paused just long enough to smile over at him. “I loved every minute of our night. Thank you again for everything.”

Dismissing her gratitude, he drew in a deep breath and said, “I know this isn’t the best time.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Lucie abruptly turned and opened the refrigerator. He jerked out of her way as she grabbed what she needed and returned to the stove. “I hoped we might have a few minutes to chat.” He intended to mention the piece he wrote and ask her not to read it until they’d had a chance to be together.

“Oh, Aren, I’d like nothing better, but as you can see I’ve got my hands full at the moment.”

Speaking of hands, Aren was forced to back into the sink and raise his arms above his head as Lucie flew past him. Clearly this wasn’t working.

“Can’t we talk Sunday?” she asked.

“Ah … sure.” The review was scheduled to be printed in the Saturday edition.

“Great.”

“I apologize for stopping off without calling first.… I should have realized. Sunday, then.”

“Sunday,” Lucie echoed. “Then I’ll be able to give you my full attention.”

“Okay.” Aren’s shoulders sagged with frustration and discouragement as he started out of the kitchen.

“Aren, hold up a minute,” Lucie called out, stopping him.

Just before he walked away, Lucie came to him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and then gently pressed her lips to his. Aren felt that kiss all the way to the bottom of his feet, his nerve endings sizzling, and when she stepped back it was all he could do to remain standing.

“Will that hold you until Sunday?” she asked with a saucy grin.

Aren needed to clear his throat before he was able to speak. “It should.”

“Good.”

The kiss held him all the way back to Manhattan. By then his head had cleared and the buzz on his phone told him he had a text. Even without looking Aren knew it was from Josie.

Well? No doubt she’d been waiting all day to hear how he intended to handle this difficult situation.

I wrote my piece and used her quotes. She’ll recognize who I am the minute she picks up the newspaper. He needed to wait only a few seconds for her reply.

That’ll do it all right. Are you at peace with whatever happens?

Aren hated waiting; it made everything worse.

I think so.

Not two seconds after he sent his message, he received an answer back.

Fingers crossed.

He wanted to mention the article to Lucie, but it had been impossible to hold any kind of conversation while she was cooking. He’d done his best but it seemed as if the forces of nature were against him.

He texted back. Have dinner with me. Meet me in 15 and I’ll explain. Lucie’s mother gave me a to-go box.

Josie’s response was fast in coming. This better be good.

Aren grinned and quickly typed: Dinner or my excuse?

Both.

Chapter Eleven

Saturday afternoon, Lucie reached for her cell and went to her contact list. She pushed Aren’s name and number. After three rings, he answered. “Aren, here.”

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Lucie?”

He sounded both pleased and surprised to hear from her, which boosted her confidence. “Yup, it’s me.”

“What am I doing? Nothing much. I just finished my laundry and cleaning my apartment. I save everything for the weekend. We’re still meeting tomorrow for dinner, aren’t we?”

“I’m planning on it.”

“What’s up?”

“Would you like to work for your dinner?”

“Ah, sure. What do you have in mind?”

“Meet me in half an hour,” she said and gave him the address.

“You aren’t at the restaurant?”

“Not now, but I will be later. This is something special.”

“Special. Do you want to give me a hint?”

“Nope. It’s a surprise. You showed me such a wonderful time I thought I would return the favor.”

“I thought dinner on Sunday was that.”

“This is something … extra. Mom is with me so don’t be late.”

Aren chuckled. “I’m on my way.”

Lucie ended the call.

“You got ahold of him?” Wendy asked, tying the apron around her middle. The meal was almost ready to serve. Two hundred fifty meals, to be exact. Roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, fresh green beans, a homemade roll still warm from the oven, and chocolate cake.

“Aren’s on his way.”

“Did you tell him this is a soup kitchen?”

Lucie did her best to hide a smile. “I might have forgotten to mention that.” She returned to the Salvation Army kitchen and put the finishing touches on the gravy. Within a few minutes the doors would open and the homeless men and women would pour into the dining hall. After reaching for trays and plates, Wendy, Lucie, and Aren would serve the homeless as they went through the line. Wendy would dish up the meat and potatoes, Aren was assigned the vegetables and gravy, and Lucie planned to finish up with the roll and cake. Drinks were on the sideboard and the paid staff would see to keeping the coffee, tea, milk, and water replenished.