own. I was thinking of taking you to Andre’s. Have you been there?”
“Once. The food was great. My first and only blind date, not so much.”
“Blind dates. Gotta love ‘em. Are the associations too painful? We can go somewhere else.”
Robin laughed. “Not in the way you mean. I can’t even remember the guy’s name, but I do remember that he loved to talk about himself.”
* * * * *
Andre’s was a French restaurant located on a tree-lined street in Neptune Beach. The aged-brick building had a bright red door to match the awnings over its numerous windows. Along the sidewalk running in front were square tables with cane-back chairs for those who preferred to eat outdoors.
When Robin and Reece stepped inside the dimly-lit interior, they were greeted by a smartly-dressed older woman. She showed them to a corner table, told them the day’s special and handed out menus.
Robin looked over the list of entrees. “What are you getting?”
“What I always get. The yellow fin tuna with potato leek soup. Once I find something I like, I stick with it.” He laid aside his menu. “In case you’re wondering, that tendency applies to more than food.”
“Consistency. I like that in a man. I had the broiled sea scallops when I was here before. I think I’ll try them again.”
A portly waiter with slicked-back dark hair arrived to take their order. He was replaced with another server who brought them a seeded baguette served on a wooden cutting board.
Reece picked up the serving knife and began to cut diagonal slices. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to bake bread, but it seems involved and complicated. Working with yeast can be tricky. Then there’s the kneading, rising, and proofing. That’s a lot of things to do wrong.”
Many people found the idea of baking bread intimidating. Hearing Reece admit it was surprising as well as amusing considering his highly technical background. Robin unfolded the red linen napkin and placed it on her lap. “If you can fly a plane, then you can bake bread.”
He offered her one of the slices and slid the brown bowl of butter in her direction. “Are you volunteering to teach me? Because I’m for anything that puts the two of us in a room together. Preferably alone, but I’m flexible.”
She smiled. “I’ll be happy to teach you. The problem with getting us alone will be prying Owen away from you. He’s been a fan of yours from the get-go.”
“Unlike someone else who thought I was the Big Bad Wolf. What did you mean when you said that you heard about me almost straight from the horse’s mouth?”
Robin looked up from spreading butter on the bread. “I guess you have a right to know who’s been talking about you. It was Giselle Farmer’s mother.”
He didn’t seem surprised. “Giselle had a problem with my three-date rule. She likes to be the one who breaks things off. Not the other way around.”
“You didn’t mention anything about a three-date rule yesterday. I may have to reconsider my decision.”
“I’ll save you the time. The rule doesn’t apply to you.”
“How can you say that? This is only our first date. I could prove to be another Giselle or worse.”
He shrugged. “Some things you just know.”
The waiter returned with their food which prevented Robin from asking him to elaborate. By the time they were alone again, the thread of the previous conversation was lost.
Reece squeezed lemon juice on his tuna fillet. “What do you do when you’re not slaving away at Truly Scrumptious?”
“I experiment with new recipes.”
“That sounds like an extension of work. You don’t want to turn into a workaholic.”
“Like you, you mean? According to Sylvie, you practically live at Diamond Jet.”
“That’s about to change. I recently got the signal to land.”
She didn’t know what to make of his smile or his comment. “O-kay.”
“I’m not on crazy pills. I was referring to something Sylvie said. What about a hobby? Do you have one?”
“Yes, but you’ll probably call it an extension of work, too. I collect vintage cookbooks.”
He smiled widely. “Clearly I’m not the only one obsessed with what I do for a living. Anyway, tell me more. What do you like about collecting vintage cookbooks?”
“You really want to know?” she asked, laughing a little.
“Yes, I really want to know. I want to know everything about you. If you tell me one thing every day, by the time you finish, you’ll be so used to me being around that I’ll won’t have to worry about you