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“Okay. We’re something.”
“That’s what I thought. You might want to take some of this, too, then.” She grabbed a bottle and handed it to him.
“Ylang ylang?” he said. “What’s this for?”
“Promotes relaxation, lowers blood pressure, and increases sexual desire.”
Enzo’s feet came to a halt. He didn’t need help with his sexual desire when it came to Cami. All she had to do was walk in the room.
The shock of Martha’s suggestion wore off, and he made his way to the register, placing his haul on the counter.
Martha rang him up and the bell above the door chimed. Joe Prescott strolled in, wearing his signature Hawaiian shirt, hair slicked back, and a big smile on his face. Martha’s lips curved up, a blush filling her cheeks. Speaking of keeping a relationship under wraps, Martha and Joe had been sneaking around for a few months now. Though, they weren’t really trying to hide it anymore.
“Enzo.” Joe patted him on the back and held his hand out for a shake. He picked up the bottle of ylang ylang. “This stuff is great,” he said and that was more information than Enzo needed.
“So I’m told,” he said.
Martha swiped the bottle from Joe’s hand and placed it in the bag before he could tell Martha to put it back on the shelf. “You’re all set.”
Enzo took his purchase. “Thanks for your help, Martha.”
“Anytime. Now in a few months you come back, and we’ll look at some fertility bracelets.”
Enzo swallowed and scrubbed a hand over the back of his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“I have a good feeling about you two.”
Enzo hurried out of Mind, Body, and Soul before Martha could show him anything else. Fertility bracelet. She was out of her mind. He and Cami were nowhere near the talk of having children together.
Though, his thoughts went back to the Lobster Shack, the vision of the boy and girl that looked eerily like them, clouding his mind. It was a vision that didn’t scare him, but instead, gave him hope for the family he always wanted, but never thought he would have.
***
Enzo had done so much for Cami, and she wanted to do something for him. Cooking dinner seemed like a good idea, except trying to move around a kitchen with only one good foot was a lot of work. Exhaustion curled around her, and a light pain throbbed in her ankle—a constant reminder that she was still on the mend, as if she didn’t already know.
Pasta had seemed like the easiest option, until the water was done boiling and she had no idea how to carry the pot of water to the sink to drain it. She tapped a finger against her chin. She was a smart girl; she could figure something out. She’d already retrieved a pasta bowl, a task in itself. Now she just needed to get the pasta in the there.
She opened a drawer filled with silverware, but a fork and spoon didn’t seem like much help. She closed the drawer and moved to the next. Spatulas, wine bottle opener, can opener, and a pair of tongs, stared back at her. She was starting to lose hope when she picked up the tongs. “These could work,” she said aloud, a smile crossing her face.
With a hip check, she shut the drawer and hobbled over to the pot. To her surprise, the tong worked perfectly. She mixed in some olive oil, fresh basil, lemon and pepper then gathered the cut Roma tomatoes and asparagus she had heated up in a skillet and tossed it on top, mixing all the ingredients together. She topped it off with some fresh cracked pepper and a little parmesan. She hopped back, admiring her dish. See? She was perfectly capable of going back to work.
Her thigh was screaming from holding most of her weight, and her other foot was cramping slightly, but it was nothing she couldn’t handle. She’d worked through a bad case of hay fever, a broken finger, a carpal tunnel flare-up, and a minor bout with food poisoning. A twisted ankle had nothing on her.
The door opened, and her heart warmed when Enzo’s voice floated up the stairs. A wave of foolish excitement buzzed inside her.
“I’m in here,” she said.
“Why aren’t you resting?”
She poked her head out. “How do you know I’m not resting?”
He took her face in his hand and kissed her sweetly, yet toe-curling at the same time. “Because you’re standing,” he said as he drew back and kissed her forehead. “And something smells delicious.”
“That would be dinner.”
“I told you I would whip something up,” he said.
“And I decided I’d rather cook for you. You’ve already done enough. This is my way of saying thank you.” She held her finger up and pointed it at him. “I see your lips parting, and I know you are not about to give me a hard time about this. If you are, you can eat your dinner in your truck on your way home.”
