Page 26 of Summer Reading

I grinned. It was a perfect answer. “I was,” I said. “Everything important I learned about cooking, I learned from my vovó. I’m half-Portuguese, after all, and we know how to cook.”

Ben lifted the lid off the warming tray in front of him. He inhaled deeply of the torresmos. “It smells amazing.”

“I’ll make a plate for you in the kitchen on your break,” I said. “I can’t let my help starve to death, plusit will help you decide if I have the chops to do a program for the teens.”

He gave me a mock severe frown. “I’m reserving judgment until I taste the goods.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I felt my pulse pound. Was I “the goods”? Oh my.

Two young women in mini-sundresses and wedge-heeled sandals, smelling faintly of coconut-scented sunscreen, with their long hair parted in the middle and hanging halfway down their backs, arrived at his station. They gave Ben a synchronized hair toss and looked at him as if he were on the menu. All of a sudden I felt as dowdy as a laundry sack in my chef coat, and I backed away, letting him serve them.

I turned on my heel and started to walk away, when Ben called after me, his voice low, “Don’t forget me, Samantha.”

“As if that’s even a possibility,” I said. It came out wrong. I saw the women glance speculatively between us, but they fuzzed out of my vision when Ben grinned.

“Good to hear,” he said.

“I... uh... meant about your food, getting your food,” I said. I pulled my chef coat away from my chest. Why was it so hot out here? I was flustered and sweaty and decided it was time to beat a hasty retreat. But I couldn’t resist just one more look.

I glanced over my shoulder at Ben, and he winked at me. Okay, I’d been on the receiving end of somepretty good winks before, but this one made my breath short and my heart speed up, and I wished, quite desperately, that I had the wherewithal to wink back. I didn’t. Instead, I blinked stupidly and gave him a dorky thumbs-up.

In a panic, I went to check on Emily. I needed an infusion of normal. Stat. She had a line of people, as the cod fritters were a huge hit. I stepped behind the station and helped her for several minutes before it was clear I was going to need to make more. Thankfully, I had left plenty of everything prepped in the kitchen. All I had to do was fry them up and get them out here.

I had almost reached the kitchen when Tyler waved me down. I pivoted and headed in his direction.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“Running low on the green beans,” he said. I glanced at his face and noticed a bit of food in the corner of his mouth.

“Could that be because you’re eating them?” I asked. I clapped a hand over my heart. “Don’t tell me you ate peixinhos da horta voluntarily.”

“I just had a tiny nibble so that I could insightfully answer questions,” he said. “I swear.”

“Why do I feel like your idea of a tiny nibble and mine are measurably different?”

He blinked at me, the picture of innocence.

“I have more,” I said. “I’ll be right back.” I took twosteps but then spun around and said, “No more sampling.”

“But they’re really good,” he protested.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I don’t think batter-fried green beans aligns with your usual ‘plain with a side of boring’ menu.”

He shrugged. “It’s fried. Anything is good if you batter fry it. You should fry up some Twinkies. If you wanted to make people really happy, you’d make those.”

“Twinkies?” I was horrified. “I’d rather cut out my own liver and serve it with onions.”

His shoulders started to shake, and it was then that I noticed the glint in his eyes.

“Are you messing with me?” I asked.

He held up two fingers about an inch apart. “Tiny bit.”

“There is one thing Gales do not joke about,” I said. “And that is food.”

His grin broadened and he saluted me. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And just for that, you have to sample everything I cooked tonight and not just the fried green beans,” I said.

He looked appalled. “Even those fish thingies?”

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