Need You for Always (Heroes of St. Helena)(58)

“It’s a perfect survival trap,” the waiter said, and Emerson’s heart did that funny flutter. Scratch that. It was more of a roundhouse kick to the ribs because it wasn’t a waiter at all.

It was Dax.

He towered behind the counter in a pair of battered jeans, his signature soft-looking T-shirt, and a ball cap pulled low, but today he had on an apron that stretched across his chiseled chest. A white line cook’s apron with soup splattered down the front, and he had a half-cut squash in his hand. His lips curled up at the edges as he pinned her with his gaze.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, but her eyes clearly pointed out that he was being a stalker.

He pulled out a notebook and in his most professional voice, informed her, “Letting you know that our soup of the day is roasted pumpkin with basil.”

“Roasted pumpkin.” Roger tapped a contemplative finger to his chin. “You like pumpkin, Violet?”

“You work here?” she asked quietly.

“Today I do. Tomorrow I’m at the county public training center. A few weeks from now, I’m sous cheffing at Street Eats.” He smiled. “I am a man of many, many talents.”

She had the memories to prove it.

“You’re running the training class?”

A hum of something dangerous coursed through her veins. Not only had he followed through on his part, he’d told Jonah yes. She told herself not to read too much into it. Just because he was teaching a class didn’t mean he’d sign on to stay.

She wanted to tell him he’d done the right thing, helping Jonah. And that it would help him too, but he was already taking the trap from Violet to examine. “Good work.”

Violet beamed. “It’s to catch fairies.”

Emerson placed a hand to her head—it was the only thing to do other than banging it against the counter.

“Or you can use it for something useful, like catching fish at the Loveliest Survivalist Campout.” Emerson looked up and Dax’s gaze was on her, warm and unwavering. “Isn’t there some kind of competition for that, Lovely Co-leader Emi?”

Her face heated at the use of her nickname in front of her family. “The, uh, X-tremely Edible competition?”

“The X-tremely Edible competition?” His lips curled up and she knew he was thinking about their night together. She was too.

“The Calistoga Lovelies Nine-Eight-Three win that one every year,” Violet explained.

“Maybe this is St. Helena Lady Bug Lovelies Six-Six-Two’s year,” he said, grabbing a paper placemat. He tore it into several strips, then laid them out and began weaving them together. “Imagine this is wet manzanita bark that’s been cut into strips. You can weave it together like this and then place it in the middle of your trap.” His hands worked at lightning speed to demonstrate a way for Violet to make something non-fairy-centric out of her trap. When he was done, he put the funnel-shaped cone into the center of the cornucopia. “Like this. Then when the fish swim in, they can’t easily swim out.”

“Cool.” Violet took the trap and studied it intently. Dax just smiled at his handiwork. And Emerson smiled at Dax.

“She likes those pumpkin cookies from the store,” Roger mumbled, completely oblivious to the goings-on around him. “The ones with the candy black kitties on top. Will it taste like those?”

“Not sure,” Dax said. “Never tried it. Not a big basil fan.”

“Basil, huh?” Roger said. “That doesn’t sound very celebratory, does it?”

Before Dax could answer, Violet was back in the game. “Do you think fairies could get out?”

“I’m not sure when fairy season is,” he said, following like a champ the tennis-match pace that her family was notorious for keeping. “I do know that bass are everywhere. And that trap there is a perfect shape for a winning bass trap.”

“Winning trap, huh?” Violet clapped her hands at the excitement of winning something. “Would you help me?”

Emerson felt her stomach bottom out as Dax considered the question. She could see the word no forming on his lips, knew how it would crush Violet, but couldn’t blame him. In her family, offering to help was the equivalent of devoting your life to the cause. And the Blake family was a never-ending cause.

Not that Emerson was complaining, but it was her cause. Not his to deal with.

“Violet, Dax has a lot—”

“Of experience with these kinds of traps,” he interrupted, shocking the hell out of her. She’d given him the out and he’d stuck around. “In fact, I’ve used ones similar to these in survival situations. Maybe you can teach your troop how to build the trap, and I can teach them how to make the funnel.”

“Like partners?” Violet asked, all eyes. “Dad, did you hear that?”

“I sure did,” Roger said, putting the menu down and smiling. There was a twinkle in his expression that Emerson hadn’t seen in a long time. He was happy. “I think this calls for a round of floats.”

“But you haven’t finished the float you ordered,” Emerson pointed out. Violet grabbed the straw and sucked it down, licking her lips in a problem solved way.

“Three floats,” Roger said to Dax, then smiled as if the lights, after a long two years, had finally flicked back on. “Bring one for yourself, too.”