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

end of the week.” His eyes scanned the horizon. “If anything, she depended on too many people. She just couldn’t pick a good one to save her life. Or ours.”

How had Lauren never made that connection? The slew of men moving in and out of their lives wasn’t the problem. It was a natural result of the real problem—that Mom couldn’t stand to be alone, even if it meant dating complete jerks. Or lying to her children about who their father was.

“Knox, I think I might have really messed up.”

“Messed up what?” he asked.

“Remember that boyfriend question?”

“Yeah. Are you dating someone?”

Bolting from her chair, Lauren unzipped her oversized jacket on her way inside. “Give me an hour, and then we’re going out to eat.”

Knox stood up. “You mean to Pilar’s? Do I need to change my uniform?”

“Not Pilar’s,” she said, hoping she hadn’t waited too long. “And there’s no need for you to change. I just need to look better than…” She glanced down at her ripped jeans and dirty Chucks. “This.”

“So you are seeing someone,” he said with a chuckle.

“If I’m lucky, I will be after tonight.”

By the end of his shift, the competition dish had been perfected, though he’d had to reach out to a friend for one of the ingredients. Jackson had come through, as always. In a moment of weakness, Nick had asked about Lauren and learned that she’d been busy doing publicity for the restaurant, which was doing better than anyone could have hoped.

He wished he could tell her how proud he was. Less than six weeks ago, she’d been in over her head with no idea how to open a restaurant. Nick had given her a push here and there, but she’d made it happen. The menu, which was fresh and original, highlighting local ingredients with her own New England flare, was unlike anything he’d seen before. That she’d taught the staff how to create those flavors in such a short time said a lot about how good she really was.

“Nick, someone is asking to see the chef,” Georgette called into the kitchen as he untied his apron. No one called him chef around here, so it had to be some tourist unhappy with their food. Every once in a while they’d get an out-of-towner who didn’t like a sauce or complained that his burger had extra stuff on it. As if the description wasn’t printed right there on the menu.

“I’m off the clock,” he called back. “Let Carl handle it.”

Carl Oliver had been part of the crew since before Nick took over and he’d always been more patient with the customers.

“They asked specifically for you,” she answered.

So not a tourist then.

Tossing the apron in the hamper in the back, he grabbed his jacket off the hook and headed for the swinging door. When he reached the dining room, he spotted Lauren standing by the entrance talking to a tall man in fatigues. White-blond hair hung in loose curls around her face, and the blue and white dress clung to her curves, then billowed out to stop just above her knees. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet and smiling up at the man like a woman in love.

He couldn’t believe she’d bring a date to Dempsey’s.

Anger rising, Nick sought out Georgette and found her at the other end of the bar. “Who asked to see me?”

“The new chef,” she answered, loading three tall necks onto her tray. “She’s over by the door.”

This could not be happening. Why would Lauren ask to see him while out with another man? Glancing their way, he watched the soldier drop a kiss on top of her head and he’d never felt the urge to kill a man more.

Determined to get this over with, Nick charged through the thin crowd to reach his target.

“You asked for me?” he said, skipping the niceties.

Lauren looked up, startled, her blue eyes going soft as they fell on his face. “Hi.”

That was it? She’d asked for him to say hello?

“I was heading home. What did you want?”

“Are you sure this is the guy?” the soldier mumbled, but Lauren ignored him.

“Then you aren’t working?” she asked.

“I just finished for the day.”

“Could we sit down and talk?”

As if he had any intention of being her third wheel.

“Looks like you already have a dinner partner,” he replied, casting a snarl in the stranger’s direction. “Have a nice night.”

“Wait,” she said as he tried to pass. “This is my brother. He came to visit to help celebrate the launch of Pilar’s.” Her brother? “Knox Riley, this is Nick Stamatis,” she continued. “He’s the head chef here at Dempsey’s and was helpful in getting Pilar’s up and running.”

Still stunned by the introduction, Nick said, “I didn’t do much. Did you say brother?”

Lauren nodded as the smile on her face widened. “I did. I wanted the two of you to meet. Are you sure you don’t have time to sit down?”

More than a little off-balance, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve got a few minutes.” Looking around, he said, “Annie, is table seventeen open?”

She checked the chart on the podium and said, “Yes, sir.”

Nick led Lauren and her brother through the tables to the booth in the far corner. When he gestured for them to sit, Lauren slid in first and the soldier followed. Nick took a seat on the opposite side.

“Knox, is it?” he asked.

“That’s right.” The brother, a large man with a square jaw and a crew cut, extended a hand. “Lauren told me a lot about you on the way over.”

Unsure if what he’d heard had been good or bad, Nick accepted the greeting in silence.

“How are you?” Lauren asked, as if they were old friends catching up.

“Busy planning for the festival. I assume you’ve been busy, too.”

Too busy to pick up a phone or send a message.

“Yes, I have. We’re nearly sold out for every seating.”

“So I hear.”

An awkward silence loomed until Knox said, “I’m going to the