In Over Her Head: An Anchor Island Novel by Terri Osburn (reading eggs books .TXT) 📗

onion broth. Provided I can find a supplier for them.” The display between the two women was covered in various seafood options, and Lauren’s eyes cut to the scallops on the right. “These look good.”

As if signaling the end of the battle, the older woman grinned. “I’ve got the best scallops from Norfolk to Hilton Head. Buy from me and you’ll be set.”

“Do you have a business card?” Lauren asked.

“I can do you one better.” Martha bent over, disappearing behind the stand, and then popped back up a second later. “A magnet.” She handed Lauren a bright red, crab-shaped item. “Stick that on your fridge or file cabinet so you’ll always know where to find me.”

The corner of Lauren’s mouth lifted as she accepted the magnet. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

The pair said their goodbyes and moved on, with Martha yelling, “Call me!” as they left.

“Is everyone a character around here?” Lauren asked, eyes on the magnetic crustacean in her hand.

“Pretty much, but you get used to them.” A passerby carrying four loaded bags of vegetables veered close, forcing Nick to pull Lauren out of the way. “You need to watch where you’re going.”

She shook her head as if returning to the present. “Sorry. This just reminded me of when I was a kid. We had something similar on our refrigerators.”

“Refrigerators? Plural?”

“We moved a lot.” Tucking the magnet into the back pocket of her jeans, she added, “The magnets changed fridges a lot.”

“To different towns?”

“No.” The smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Just around Worcester. Who do we see next?”

Nick glanced down the aisle. “Trenton works for a local fisherman out of Hatteras and is a good option for fresh crab.”

Lauren leveled a hand across her brows to block out the sun. “Then I definitely need to meet him.”

“Last stand on the right.” He extended a hand for her to go first. “I’ll follow behind to make sure you don’t have any more near-accidents.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, and Nick fell into step behind her, curious why a family would move around in the same town. The only two reasons he could think of were to improve their situation or because they didn’t have a choice. Either way, spending your childhood constantly having to adapt to new situations couldn’t have been fun, and might explain the wall of ice she kept between herself and everyone else.

That wall could protect, but it could also make life pretty damn lonely. Something Nick knew all too well.

Nick Stamatis was easy to be with and smelled like a mix of patchouli, sandalwood, and vanilla all rolled into one. A heady scent that threatened to make her forget he wasn’t her favorite person.

His generous, no-pretense attitude also disarmed her. Not counting their hit-on-or-not-hit-on conversation, they’d spent a comfortable hour together exploring the farmer’s market. He spoke to her as a peer, which was novel in her experience, but at the same time he’d educated her on the ins and outs of finding food suppliers on an island as remote as Anchor.

When she’d accepted the job at Pilar’s, that had been Lauren’s biggest concern. Could she get the ingredients she needed to make her dishes sing? Thanks to Nick, she now had a pocket full of business cards plus one crab-shaped magnet that would help her keep the pantry stocked.

“Have you come up with a menu yet?” Nick asked as they rested at a picnic table with two peach iced teas they’d purchased from a food truck.

“I have a few staples I know I want to add, but now there are all sorts of ideas racing through my head.” She’d known an island would rely heavily on seafood, but she was surprised by the other proteins that were available. All fresh and naturally sourced.

“How about items from the Marina menu? Are you considering any of those?”

Lauren hadn’t planned on incorporating any dishes from the previous restaurant. “Not really. I’d rather create my own.”

Nick rubbed a thumb down the side of his paper cup. “You aren’t just feeding the tourists. You’re feeding the locals, too. The Marina operated for thirty-two years for a reason. It couldn’t hurt to pick one or two favorites to make the place feel familiar.”

Something to consider. If she hired any of the previous staff, she’d take suggestions from them and have them prepare the dishes she believed might fit her concept. After tasting the options she’d make a final decision.

“Did you apply for this job?” she asked, truly curious.

“What job?”

“My job,” she clarified. “You seem to have put a lot of thought into how to get Pilar’s up and running. Odd for a man who has his own kitchen to think about.”

Nick shook his head with a chuckle. “No, I didn’t apply. I’m just thinking about what’s best for this island and the people on it. It’s a habit. Once you’re here for a while, you’ll do the same.”

Would she? Lauren had never been a joiner or put much thought into the community around her. All of her past experience was in urban areas where people minded their own business and preferred that others do the same. Plus, the demands of restaurant work barely left time for sleep let alone neighborly concern.

Changing the subject, she asked, “How does the Best of the Fest contest work?”

Nick rolled with the change. “Food is served throughout the three-day event and on Sunday, attendees cast their votes for one final dish that each vendor puts forward.”

Lauren sat up straighter. “So the committee doesn’t pick the winner?”

“No,” Nick replied, shaking his head, “but they have to count the votes. That’s where your conflict of interest comes in.”

“I still don’t see the problem.” She finished the last of her tea and rose to her feet. “Are there categories or does everyone compete against each other across the board?”

Nick finished his own drink and followed her lead, retrieving his bag of vegetables off the bench beside him. They tossed their cups in the green recycle