Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,61
most of the time looking at his phone—they were back in the marina.
Rohan and Holden drove off, and Law waved off Maya’s attempt to help him stow the life jackets under the boat’s seats. “I can handle this.”
“Nah, let me help. I appreciate your doing this even though we lost our audience.”
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?”
She looked up, confused. “I don’t know?”
“Did you say you appreciated something about me?”
She rolled her eyes. “One thing. I appreciated one thing about you. Don’t let it go to your head.”
He let her help him cover the boat and walked her to her car—which didn’t start. He wasn’t particularly surprised, given the way it had wheezed into the parking lot to begin with.
She made a little mew of dismay and let her head fall on the top of the steering wheel before straightening and trying again. No luck. Nothing but a not-promising clicking noise. “Noooo,” she moaned. “I do not need this right now.”
“I can drop you back in town.”
She dragged herself to the passenger seat of his car like she was a teenager being marched to detention.
“You want me to take you to Jordan’s?” he asked. “You can ride back out on the tow truck with him?”
“Nope.”
“You’re going to leave the car dead in the marina?”
“For now. It needs a new battery. It dies all the time. Last time Jordan looked at it, he told me I was living on borrowed time. In fact, no, he told me that the Pontiac Bonneville was such a terrible car that it helped kill Pontiac as a company.” She laughed, but it turned into a mock sob. “I’m going to get Jake to come out and try to jump it.” Law eyed her. Her dismay seemed over the top for a dead battery. “But that will have to be tomorrow,” she added, “because he and Nora are at a midwife appointment in Grand View.” She sighed in a way that seemed more wistful than her previous car-related sighs had been. “Just take me back to the Mermaid. I’m starving.”
“What’s for dinner?”
She snorted. “Packaged ramen. Dinner of champions.”
The idea took hold on the drive back downtown. He was going up to Bayshore tonight to spy on the sous-chef at the White Rhino—his industry contacts reported that she ran the kitchen on Mondays. He figured even if Lawson’s Lunch was mostly on hold until after the grant announcement, he could still get the ball rolling on some of the big stuff—and there was nothing bigger than who was going to be head chef.
He glanced at Maya. Why should she eat packaged ramen for dinner when he was going to literally have more food than he could stomach? “So, uh…” She turned. “I’m going to Bayshore for dinner tonight, and…”
“Spit it out, Benjamin. If you’re gonna be late, you can drop me at Bluewater and Confederation and I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“No,” he said, probably a little too vehemently. But honestly, she thought he was just going to drop her at the side of the highway? “I’m going to check out the sous-chef at the White Rhino, but secretly.”
“Ooh, you mean to see if you want to try to woo him away?”
“Her, and maybe. I’m going to sample a bunch of dishes.”
“Mmm, must be hard to be you right now.”
“Right, so there’s going to be so much food that…” God, he felt like he was in junior high.
“Benjamin Lawson!” she exclaimed so loudly he flinched. “Are you asking me to go to dinner with you?”
“Well, not like a date.”
“Ahh! Of course not. Why would you say that?” She made a noise like a cat coughing up a hairball.
“Well, I don’t know. Asking someone to dinner usually implies—”
“Gah. No. But are you trying to say you want to suspend hostilities long enough for me to help you with the problem of a feast that’s too big for you? That you need my particular expertise in hoovering an astonishing amount of food and passing judgment on it?”
He chuckled. “That is what I’m trying to say.”
“Then hooboy, yes! Wait. You’re paying for this nondate, right?”
“Right.”
She did a little fist pump. “Do I have time to go back to the Mermaid and change?”
“Sure, but you don’t have to. The food is great at the White Rhino, but it isn’t fancy.” Most places in these beach towns weren’t. You couldn’t really have a dress code without alienating the tourists. “You look fine.”