Page 10 of Finding You
She was not making this easy.
“And this jalapeño cornbread? You baked this?”
“Yup. My mom’s recipe. It’s super easy.”
“A man who cooks. Goddamn, you are a catch.” Her smile was so big and genuine, so different than the cold, formal woman who had shown up an hour earlier. Perhaps it was the second glass of scotch or the barbecue, but she was warming up and I liked it.
I could feel my face heat. Thankfully my beard concealed my blush. As the night went on, I found myself getting more and more comfortable with Astrid. She was serious and intense but had a silly streak. And watching her eat was amazing. I had been on dates with so many women who refused to eat or acted like they were afraid of food. Why did women think men were into that? I hadn’t realized how much I liked a girl with an appetite until I saw Astrid destroy a rack of ribs and then lick her fingers.
“Where did you learn to cook? Did you take classes? Where? I can’t even microwave popcorn.” She grabbed her smartphone and started scrolling. “Is there a cooking school nearby?”
I stared at her, completely intrigued and yet confused by this woman. “Not that I know of. I learned mainly from my mom and then by watching YouTube videos.”
“Huh.” She seemed impressed.
“I was in the navy for eight years. A lot of those years were spent at sea where the food options were terrible. When I got out, I vowed to learn to cook really well so I would never have to eat rubbery chicken or boxed macaroni and cheese again.”
“You were in the navy?” She tapped her chin, as if assessing me. I sat up a little straighter. “I can see that. You have excellent posture, and your house is really neat. Did you enjoy serving?”
“I did. When I enlisted I was an eighteen-year-old dumbass, and when I got out I was a twenty-six-year-old man. It wasn’t easy, but I am grateful for that time and the opportunity to serve my country.”
She grasped my hand across the table. “Thank you for your service. I admire the commitment you made.”
She was so earnest it made me smile. My skin burned where her graceful hand covered my large, callused one. “Thanks. Both my dad and grandfather served in the navy, so it’s kind of a family tradition.”
She took a sip of scotch and leaned forward on her elbows, causing that fancy sweatshirt to slide even farther off her shoulder. “So you are a military man, an excellent cook, and what else? Tell me more about you, Declan.”
“There is not much to tell. You know Ginger. I have lived in Havenport most of my life. After the navy, I joined my family’s fishing business. I am a fourth generation fisherman. Our company, Quinn Fisheries, is headquartered here in Havenport.”
“That’s so interesting. So you work with your family?”
“Not really. Both of my brothers are in different lines of work. I worked with my dad for years, but he technically retired two years ago. He is still the CEO and works there, just not as much as he used to. I am currently COO, but I run the day-to-day operations.”
“So you are not a fisherman?”
“I am, but I’m not. I am frustrated by my role because I like being out on the water, and I like my crews. I hate paperwork and useless meetings and holding clients’ hands.” What I didn’t say was that I hated dealing with people. The ocean, while dangerous, unpredictable, and sometimes downright hostile, was much easier for me to manage.
“And I love working with my dad, but we have different ideas about the future of the business.” I didn’t want to get into it with this gorgeous stranger, but I was growing more and more frustrated at work. Every year things got harder, and we needed to do more to adapt and evolve as a business. My father, of course, thought this was crazy and we should just stay the course he had set twenty years ago.
She nodded and remarked, “So you’re really an executive?”
She had hit the nail on the head. “Yes. It’s what I do. But it’s not who I am. I am a fisherman. Being out on the water, celebrating the beauty of nature—that’s what I truly love.” I paused, I hated talking about myself. “You haven’t told me anything about yourself.”
She leaned back, her body language changing. “There isn’t much to tell. I was…I am a lawyer.”
“Wow.” I could tell she was educated and refined, but I hadn’t guessed lawyer, especially for someone so young.
“I’m an associate at Burns & Glenn. It’s a massive global law firm.” She paused. “I was, I guess.” She looked down at her plate. “I do mergers and acquisitions mainly, and some general corporate work, debt and securities, that type of thing.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I was certainly impressed.
“I live in Boston. I was raised in the area and that’s about it.” She dropped her hands into her lap. Clearly she didn’t like to talk about herself either.
“I don’t believe you. What do you do for fun?” I asked, trying to tease a smile out of her.
She laughed out loud. Not a dainty cute laugh but a big honking laugh. I had no idea what was so funny. “Not much. Unfortunately my career doesn’t allow much time for fun.” She said this matter-of-factly, like it was no big deal. “I like to plan vacations.”
“That’s cool.”
