The Secret Ingredient (Love Around the Corner) Page 3

  “So, what are you up to this fine summer afternoon?”

  “Getting ready to help out someone with a video they need for an audition.”

  “Someone from Palmer’s going on American Idol?”

  June shook her head and explained what Nate Garner needed. This meant grabbing the laptop and positioning it on the coffee table so all three of them could watch a few videos. Both older women nodded and approved of the chef’s dishes, if not their attire. June made a note; the older demographic did not respond well to scruffy beards or trendy T-shirts.

  “So, this fellow you’re helping, has he made one already?” Gran asked.

  June nodded and went to the attachment he’d sent her late last night. The message accompanying it had been terse, but businesslike, which was all she needed. She hadn’t needed to watch it as many times as she had. The screen opened, and there he was, not quite in focus but still eye-catching. Nate grinned and flashed his dimple. The camera loved him. The screen went black, and both Gran and Lola leaned back on the sofa.

  “He’s going to be a handful,” Gran announced.

  “More than a handful if I don’t miss my guess.” Lola wiggled her dyed brown eyebrows and cackled. Gran grabbed a small needlepoint pillow of a pineapple and smacked at her friend.

  “I’m experiencing some second thoughts,” June said as she closed the video window. No going back for more looks; she should just delete the file and avoid temptation.

  “Why in the world? Oh, is he married, or, ah, hooked up?” Gran pursed her lips. “That’s the word now, hooked up?”

  “I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s Nate Garner.” June wasn’t about to explain what most younger people did when they hooked up.

  Both older women shrugged their shoulders and gave each other a glance.

  “So what? June Garner’s got a nice ring to it.” Lola nodded her head rapidly as June recoiled.

  “I’m not-he’s not. He’s definitely not a contender. He’s Nate Garner, Gran, the one who broke Simon’s arm.” June couldn’t believe her grandmother had lost track of that event.

  “So what? Happens in football sometimes. I always told your mother Simon was too delicate to play.”

  “Gran, come on, you know how much Simon changed afterward.” June shook her head reflexively. Her brother had become a different person: moody, unmotivated, teenage angst turning into adult depression.

  “That Nate looks well set up. Not delicate at all. How tall is he? About six foot?” Lola rubbed her arthritic hands together as she waited for an answer. “Nice proportions. Seems smart.”

  “No, Lola.” June frowned at her grandmother’s friend.

  “Fine, fine, you manage things your way. Plan it all out.” Gran rose up from the sofa with a grunt and a few snaps, crackles, and pops of her joints. Not for the first time, June wished her parents had taken Gran with them when they moved from the extreme climate shifts of west-central Ohio to Arizona a few years before.

  June thanked the women for their gifts and promised they’d have breakfast together before venturing into the county fairgrounds to peruse the dealer booths. Now she needed to clear her head before she composed and sent a detailed schedule to Nate. He’d probably only read the first few lines before deleting it.

  * * * *

  Nate looked over the pile of chef coats in dismay. June was going to be at the diner in mere minutes, and he had no idea what to wear. The diner was closed for the evening, and he’d convinced the manager to let him use it as a location for June’s first filming session. He’d been shocked by the e-mail detailing everything she planned to do with him, but after a few minutes of pacing, he’d decided to relax and let it happen.

  “Put on one of your cool cooking T-shirts, like that one with the talking bacon on it. People love bacon.” Heather Galloway cocked her head at the pile of white coats and frowned. His friend had gotten wind of the appointment and had tagged along, offering moral support and help with prep and any other behind-the-scenes work they needed.

  “These are dull, and you don’t ever wear one anyway. I can’t believe you shaved. You’re cuter when you have that scruffy look.”

  “Thanks for pointing out all the mistakes I’m making.” Nate pulled on a coat and shrugged his shoulders against the fabric as he peered at his reflection in the stainless-steel cover of a paper towel dispenser on the wall. “I know I don’t wear one, but I want to look like I know what I’m doing. Or maybe I should look like a yokel, and they can think up some sympathetic backstory.”

  Nate could run rings around his brain contemplating what would make a producer chose one contestant over another. He’d already wasted enough of his time wondering how long a flight to California would be, and if he’d have to share a bedroom with someone if he did make it.

  A firm knock at the door announced June’s probable arrival, and he nearly vaulted over the counter to get to the door. He pulled off the chef’s coat and tossed it at the pile on the counter. He didn’t want June to think he was putting on airs; she already had reservations because of the whole broken-arm incident.

  “Hey! What’s the rush? You’ll break a leg,” Heather cautioned him as he left the kitchen and found June waiting outside, arms pulled straight down by two matching canvas totes. He opened the door and greeted her as he reached for the bags. She frowned and resisted a moment but then relented enough to hand over one. She was wearing a pink blouse, gray slacks, and a strange-looking necklace. Just as she stepped over the threshold, Heather emerged from the kitchen and looked her over.

  It was difficult for Nate not to contrast the two women. He’d known Heather his whole life; she was boisterous, good-humored, and earthy. A great pal with streaked brunette hair, spiky nails, and who was always up for pizza and an action movie. June on the other hand was petite and restrained, and he knew next to nothing about her other than she smelled good and made him think of forest clearings, ferns, and waterfalls.

  The two women evaluated each other until he remembered his manners and introduced them.

  “Here to help my guy, Nate,” Heather announced in her let’s-get-a-beer voice. June nodded once.

  “All right. Could you show me the kitchen?” Nate reached past her to push open the swinging door, leading back to where he assumed they’d be filming. June walked in and took a look, moving past the griddle and turning to look over the stove and prep area. Heather crowded behind him and unexpectedly wriggled her fingers into his ribs. He jumped and frowned at her.

  “What was that for?”

  “Just trying to get past you.” Heather quirked a smile at him, but there was an odd flash in her eyes. He didn’t have time to ask what was bothering her.

  “It’s a tight angle, but I think we can manage. Are all the lights on?” June was all business as she inspected the kitchen and its equipment. Thankfully, he’d had time to really clean after the lunch rush was over and everything was neat and presentable. Without waiting for an answer, she reached into her tote bag and pulled out a soft camera case, which she unzipped quickly.

  Nate stepped around Heather, who’d somehow gotten ahead of him in the narrow aisle between the stove and grill top, and approached June with her other bag. She glanced up at him with those golden eyes, and he drew in a startled breath. Holding his gaze for an extra second, June suddenly whipped the camera in front of her face. She made a speculative sound and lowered it, frowning at him like he’d disappointed her tremendously.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “This light’s tricky. Let me set up something. Are you going to wear that?” She reached into one of her bags and pulled out a small work light as she stared at his chest. Nate glanced down; he’d forgotten what T-shirt he was wearing. Oh. It was the one with all the sushi rolls on it.

  “You don’t like sushi?”

  “Do you make sushi?”

  “I can. Maybe that would be good, show my versatility.”

  Her lips twitched, and she looked away
with the light’s plug in hand. He reached for the cord, and again, she resisted for a second before releasing it and allowing him to plug it in to the outlet by the mixer.

  “Nate’s made sushi for me.” Heather piped up from behind them, and Nate turned to look at her hovering in the doorway.

  “I made it for you once, and you hated it.” Heather pressed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest, and again he wondered what was going on with his friend. He felt June move near, and he returned his attention to her.

  “Do you like sushi?”

  Those warm eyes met his again, and he wanted to reach out and run his fingertips along her knuckles, up her arm, to curve into the soft, sensitive skin of her elbow. See if she’d blush, pull away, or continue to meet his gaze as her eyes darkened. She swallowed and nodded her head once.

  “I’ll make you some.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I cook, it’s what I do.” Again she swallowed, and he wanted to immediately start up the rice cooker. “What’s your favorite?”

  “Unagi. Some of the hybrids.”

  Wow. She liked eel. He never would have guessed.

  “Hey, speaking of cooking, when are we going to get started on this video?” Heather spoke up from behind them, and June looked away from him to glance at his friend.

  “Very soon.” June smiled shyly at Heather and turned on her work light. She moved it to different perches and tried various angles, all while making little thoughtful sounds.

  “Should I get out my things? Do you want me to change my shirt?” Nate was anxious to accommodate. The last thing he wanted to do was to aggravate June and have her call off the project.

  “Come over here, and let me straighten you up,” Heather said as she beckoned him with a hand holding a comb. Where the hell had that come from?

  “I can straighten myself up, Heather.” Nate narrowed his eyes at her, trying to communicate she should ease back and not interrupt. A bump of something soft and round against his hip pulled him back to June. She’d been backing up and had run right into him. She glanced up at him and murmured an apology as she twisted away. He automatically reached out to pull her back from the grill top. He always assumed it was hot.

  “Close quarters in here, don’t worry about it.” Of course, when the fire was lit, and he was cooking five pounds of hash browns, a package of bacon, and a dozen eggs, it was even hotter. But tonight was a simple omelet. Even though the griddle was cool, he was sweating a little.

  June eased from foot to foot and again looked at his chest.

  “You don’t like my shirt? I’ll change it.” Nate reached for the hem and dragged it upward only to be stopped by June’s small hand on his. Her cheeks were pink.

  “Whoa, take it off!” Heather piped up like she was calling for another round, and June gave a shake of her head. He finally got a good look at her necklace and realized it was tiny fruit-shaped beads, little yellow pears, red apples, and round oranges, circling the base of her slender neck. Cool.

  “Don’t you have something you can put over it?”

  Nate agreed and backed away from her, toward Heather and the stack of chef’s coats. His friend tried to stick her comb in his hair, but he shook her off as he shrugged back into the coat he’d discarded earlier. Heather then reached for the buttons, but he stepped away as he did them up himself. Maybe she was just excited, but Heather was acting like his mom, and he definitely didn’t like that. He gave her another irritated look, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

  When he turned back to June, he found her with the camera in front of her face again. The light she’d set up made the kitchen look funny, like a space he’d never been in before, all the familiar tools and equipment standing out too sharply. His favorite sauté pan was ready on the stove, and he’d already put out a container of eggs, stainless-steel bowl, butter, and whisk on the counter next to it.

  “Where do you want me?”

  She crooked her fingers to pull him closer, and he stepped her way, angling his body as she indicated and was finally rewarded with a smile from under the barricade of the digital camera. “Now, just make the omelet, and tell us how you do it.”

  Heather cackled. “First you break some eggs, right?”

  Nate had had enough from the peanut gallery. “Hey, Heather, I think you’re in the shot. Can you move back closer to the door?”

  He didn’t look over at his friend to see if she’d done as he asked. Instead, he grasped a fragile egg in his hand and peered at June. Well, the camera, with June behind it. His mind blanked.

  “Are you filming?”

  “Yep. Just go when you’re ready.” Her voice was quiet and encouraging, so he rolled his shoulders and started making an omelet, rattling off an explanation of how he liked to break eggs, what force he used to whip them, and how many he eggs he preferred. He added a dollop of butter to the hot pan, and as it sputtered and melted, the rich scent filled the narrow space.

  He poured the eggs in with a flourish, waited a moment, and then pulled the edges back, all while talking about how versatile the dish was and wondering what June was thinking. He also wondered if he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. He wasn’t formally trained, and he’d just worked his way up from dishwasher, so there were lots of terms and techniques he didn’t know. Besides, how hard was it to learn to cook greasy breakfasts in the morning and greasy burgers in the afternoon?

  The eggs were cooking through, and he lowered the heat and sprinkled in some grated smoked Gouda, watching closely as it melted. He glanced at the camera and was rewarded by a barely visible smile from June. Just in time, he turned his attention back to the sauté and wiggled the pan to loosen the eggs, finally flipping one edge up over the middle and sliding the egg into a cylinder as he rolled it out of the pan.

  “There you have it, a perfect omelet.”

  June lowered the camera and nodded, her lips quirked with what he hoped was amusement. Heather erupted into clapping and cheering behind him.

  “That was great! It didn’t take long at all. I have no idea why you said you’d be here for a couple of hours. Let’s get a drink.”

  Nate placed the plate on the counter and sent an inquiring look at June. “What do you say? Want to go get something?”

  She looked between him and Heather and shook her head. “That was just the first try. We need to do it a couple more times at least and then do some close ups.”

  “How long will that take?” Heather asked as she slumped against the door frame.

  “A couple of hours,” June replied coolly, her timetable in stone. Nate tried not to grin. He’d warned Heather this was going to be time-consuming, but she’d insisted on sticking with him like peanut butter. Heather’s expression morphed from merely impatient to indignant.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I’m not.” June turned her gaze back to Nate, and he thought he saw the light of amusement in her eyes. Or maybe it was just her calculating how long her next shot was going to take.

  Nate slid the plate over toward Heather. “Here, you want to get to work on that one while we start another?”

  His friend rolled her eyes and announced she was going to his mom’s bar, and he could meet here there when he was done. He didn’t miss the fact she hadn’t invited June. As the diner’s door clanged shut behind Heather, he wiped off the counter and turned up the heat under the sauté. June picked up her camera and leveled it at him.

  “Shall we try this again?”

  * * * *

  By the end, of what she was sure she was going to refer to as the Great Egg Scene, June figured she’d seen every permutation of an omelet a person could create using the contents of a small Ohio diner. There were at least twelve plates stacked on the pass-through, the fillings ranging from cheeses to mushroom, ham, and bacon combinations. The last few Nate had made bordered on the ridiculous. The black-olive-and-cherry-tomato attempt was still warm on a plate, and he’d simply left his
finale, a concoction of diced salami, artichoke heart, and mozzarella cheese, in the sauté.

  Nate leaned back against the counter and stretched his arms above his head with a deep sigh. The movement did interesting things with the muscles of his forearms, and she suddenly wished he wasn’t wearing that concealing chef coat.

  “You think you got enough?”

  June nodded and switched off the work light. Resisting the urge to review the footage she’d collected, she instead zipped the camera back up in its case. No sense trying to get a feel for what she had with a four-inch screen, when everything would look better once she’d loaded it to her computer later.

  “Good. I think I’m losing my voice anyway. I don’t think I ever said the word egg or omelet so many times in my life.”

  He quirked a smile at her, revealing that dimple, and she clenched her lips together to resist grinning back at him. He was Nate Garner, the guy who’d injured her brother and sent Simon’s life down a sad spiral. It didn’t matter that she found herself liking his voice, his jokes, or the way his mind worked.

  He grabbed a fork from a container at the back of the counter and stabbed it into the Mediterranean mixture in the pan. He pulled out a portion and popped it in his mouth, giving it a few chews. Without revealing anything with his expression, he reached for another fork and sectioned off a bite, holding it out toward June. She shook her head and backed up a step.

  “No thanks. I’ve seen enough eggs for one day.” Not true, she was famished, but accepting the bite from him seemed too intimate.

  “Come on, give it a try. Or are you scared?”

  “Are you trying to dare me?”

  “Wouldn’t think of it. I just want an honest opinion about my creation. I might add it to the menu here.” Again with that dimple and those vibrant blue eyes. It wasn’t fair. He had worked very hard though and hadn’t complained or balked at any of her requests, so she supposed she should accommodate him now. She pulled the fork from his big fingers and cautiously took a bite. The egg was silky and warm, and the rich flavor of the salami was a wonderful contrast to the slightly astringent taste of the artichoke.