He grimaced good-naturedly. “I know, I’m bragging shamelessly. I’m having a hard time accepting that she’s about to marry and move to another continent. I tried to talk her into waiting a couple of years, but she and Mike are determined to get married now, so I’ve just had to accept her decision. Still, it seems like just last week I was tucking her into bed after letting her eat a forbidden fast-food burger and ice cream sundae for dinner.”
“Did you let the twins have forbidden food, too?”
He winked at her. “Why do you think they consider me their favorite uncle?”
Bonnie was enjoying this conversation. Having spent so much time lately with her reticent, taciturn older brother, it was nice to chat with a man who was comfortably talkative. “Good conversationalist” was high on that list of desirable traits in a man, followed by “good sense of humor.”
“Speaking of food…” She glanced down at the market bag at his feet, wondering if what she was about to suggest was foolish. “I don’t know if you’re interested or have time, but beginning next Tuesday, I’m teaching a few classes in cooking with seasonal produce. The classes will meet at the inn for the next three Tuesday evenings from six until eight and we’ll cover buying produce, knife skills, cooking methods and ways to preserve fresh produce for off-season use.”
Her sister had told her that Paul taught high school, which p
robably explained why he was free today on a summer weekday. Maybe he was looking for something else to do during his break?
His eyebrows rose, though she couldn’t quite tell if it was from surprise, interest or both. “You’re teaching cooking classes?”
She nodded. “I was sort of pressured into it by a woman who has booked several social events at the inn. She thought it would be fun if she and a few of her friends took cooking lessons, and she asked if I would consider teaching them at the inn. I have room for six in the class, but one dropped out so I have an opening.”
“I didn’t know you offered classes.”
“I have on occasion, usually during the off-season—Kinley’s idea to keep people coming into the inn even when we have few outdoor events scheduled. I’ve conducted several one-day specialty classes like cupcake decorating, or making jams, jellies and preserves, or candy-making. This will be my first multisession class. I understand, of course, if you’re not interested, but you mentioned you’d like to learn to cook fresh produce…”
“Actually, I would be interested. I just happen to have the next three Tuesday evenings free, and it would be great to spend them learning how to do something useful. Cassie would definitely approve.”
She was rather surprised by how quickly he’d jumped on her offer. She’d thought at the most, he would agree to consider it. Was he really that excited to learn to cook—or maybe he was looking for an excuse to spend more time with her? A flattering possibility. She told him the cost, and he nodded. “Yeah, I’d like to participate. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot.”
“You teach high school, right?”
He nodded again. “I teach math. I have a few summer projects going, but I’m free on Tuesdays, fortunately. What do I have to do to sign up?”
“Just show up at the inn next Tuesday at six. I warn you, I don’t have your training in teaching, so the classes will be very informal. And you’ll be the only man in the group.”
“I can deal with that,” he said with a laugh.
She had a feeling he’d be the most popular member of the class.
She gave him her card with her cell phone number…in case he thought of any questions beforehand, she explained casually. Finishing her drink, she glanced at her watch. “I’d better get those vegetables home before they start roasting in the car. Thank you for the coffee, Paul. I enjoyed talking with you.”
“Same here.” He stood as she did. “I’ll look forward to next Tuesday. I’m sure you have a lot to teach me.”
She felt her eyebrows rise a bit in response to his tone—had there been a bit of a flirtatious undertone?—but then she decided she was probably overanalyzing. Of course he referred only to cooking skills.
She had the sense that he watched her walk away, though she didn’t look back to make sure. She found herself smiling during the drive home, her pulse fluttering a little. Was she looking forward to next Tuesday just a bit too much?
She was probably too young for him. Paul didn’t know how old Bonnie Carmichael was, but she didn’t look much older than his daughter. He wasn’t quite sure if Bonnie thought of him as anything more than the father of a bride. A dad who had a lamentable habit of crashing into her.
He’d been startled enough by the physical impact with her the first time they’d met. But then he’d looked down at her and had been metaphorically jolted again. She was so pretty, in the classic sense of the word. Big blue eyes framed by long lashes, a perfect nose and chin, a fair, heart-shaped face framed by wavy blond hair. Not very tall, but nicely curved. His first thought had been a simple “Wow.”
Maybe she’d had coffee with him today only to sign him up for her class, but she’d seemed to enjoy the conversation, and the invitation to join had seemed spontaneous. He had talked an awful lot about himself, he recalled with a grimace as he dumped the four squash he’d purchased into the crisper drawer of his nearly empty fridge, hardly desirable dating etiquette. Not that having an impromptu coffee with Bonnie counted as a date, of course. But maybe she wouldn’t mind getting together again, if he hadn’t bored her senseless with his life history.
Not that he was looking for anything serious, of course. Only a few weeks away from having a grown, married daughter, free to put his desires first for the first time since he was a teenager, he certainly wasn’t eager to tie himself down to a serious relationship before the wedding even took place. Especially not with anyone looking to get married and have kids—the stage of life he figured was already in his past. Women Bonnie’s age were often thinking along those lines, but he’d gotten the impression that she was more concerned at the moment with getting the inn on a solid financial footing. Which meant maybe she would be interested in spending a little time just having fun with someone else who wasn’t looking for more?
The outside kitchen door opened and his daughter hurried in. Cassie always rushed, even when she had no place to be. He always teased that she’d bypassed crawling as a baby and had progressed straight into running. With only a few weeks remaining until her wedding and with her fiancé already spending much of his time in London, his daughter had moved in with him two weeks ago when the lease on her apartment had expired. She could have moved back in with her mother’s family, of course, but his place was closer to the university she attended, and she claimed that her mother’s place was too hectic with fourteen-year-old twins always in and out with their friends. Paul had been delighted to welcome her to his home until the wedding, giving him a chance to savor this time with her before she moved so far away.
“I hope you haven’t eaten lunch,” she said, hefting a paper bag. “I stopped for a takeout salad on the way here and I bought you one, too. Whoa, are those fresh vegetables you’re putting away? You’ve been buying produce?”
“I went to the farmers’ market,” he told her, feeling somewhat sanctimonious as he closed the fridge. “I bought peaches, tomatoes, squash and a loaf of banana nut bread made by a local bakery.”
“The banana bread is an indulgence, of course, but the fruit and veggies are a nice step forward for you. I’m proud of you,” she teased, setting the takeout bag on the central island in his tidy kitchen.