Sophie wanted to respond with "My lips," but she pointed to the Kimchi. "This is a twist on the cole slaw you love so much. It's a family recipe. But I warn you, it's spicey."
Max piled on a spoonful. "And this?" He pointed to the platter of thinly sliced ham rolled around a baby stalk of romaine lettuce. "It's my twist on prosciutto and melon but with peaches." He added two skewers to his plate. She reached across the table and plucked up the smoky balsamic dressing. "Add a bit of this if you're feeling adventurous."
He extended the food to her, and she drizzled the dark liquid across the meat. They went around the table; her describing the food and him taking a portion of each dish. At one point, he had to get a second plate, and she held his original, heavy with food.
Max's light brown eyes looked up at her. "I'll have to come back for dessert." She snagged some food and followed Max to a set of benches carved out of a stone wall. Warmed by the sun, the stone offered a view of the lake and provided a steady surface to lay their plates on. Sophie watched as Max tucked into the dishes, nodding after each bite.
"Is that basil?" A crumb flew from his mouth.
She chuckled. "No, rosemary. Did you just name the first herb you thought of?"
A shy smile spread across his face, and Sophie's stomach tightened. It had been the same way when she'd first noticed Max at Emily's wedding, standing with Finn and some of his other military buddies at the reception. They'd all been laughing, and congratulating Finn, a gaggle of lean but well-built men, of which Max was the shortest of the group. Max's head had turned her way, that timid expression on his face in opposition to the hard packed muscles so obvious under his form-fitting uniform. Like now, the shy smile did things to her insides. Without any thought, that night she'd navigated her way through the wedding guests, across the ballroom and asked him to dance.
Shania Twain's From This Moment played as his hand sat on the small of her back, the other holding hers. The entire song, he'd stared into her eyes, a silent conversation happening between them, but he spoke a foreign language she didn't understand. However, she was very aware of what his body was telling her. His thumb had grazed over hers in a slow back and forth that raised her internal temperature to scorching by the time the music stopped. Desire surged through her and her offer to come back to her room was on the tip of her tongue when a woman in a similar military uniform interrupted them, pronouncing they had to return to base or miss curfew.
Max had offered her a shrug and wished her goodnight, leaving her uncomfortable and in need of relief. Luckily, she'd packed her vibrator and images of what Max should have done to her pushed her over the edge twice later that night. And for many a night since. With Emily's confirmation of his attendance at the barbeque, Sophie planned to experience the real thing.
"I don't know much about this kinda stuff." Max pointed to the half-eaten plate. "My mom isn't much of a cook unless it's fried. But I'm always willing to try new things." He licked his lips and Sophie's stomach did more than a flip, a full cartwheel. "So, you're a chef?"
"Technically." The word flew out of her mouth and echoed off the stone, the teasing tone harkening back to another man she'd explained her career path to. A man a long time ago who left her far too soon. The grapefruit and champagne cocktail in her stomach soured.
One of Max's eyebrows lifted. "What does that mean?"
"I'm a sous chef, so that's like the second in command with your military people." She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Until Emily had reconnected with Finn last year, the only knowledge Sophie had of the military was through the movies, stereotypical camouflage pants and dark blue uniforms. She didn't even realize there were different branches and Finn and Max were not Army, but Navy. But when your best friend marries an ex-marine, facts tend to sink in through osmosis. "I don't choose the dishes but help with execution."
"Like missions." Dark amber eyes turned serious. "Command determines the orders, and you follow through."
Sophie nodded. "Exactly."
"But you want your own kitchen?"
"Someday."
"What's stopping you?"
Money. Time. Confidence. All three? But Max didn't need to know her personal demons. In fact, she'd found it better to keep her romantic endeavors separate from her real life. That way, when she broke things off, there was no spill over to deal with. The one time she'd dated one of the servers at the restaurant, things went sour fast after he got too needy and she'd had to end the affair. He purposefully screwed up orders demanding new dishes be made to satisfy the customers, all of which came out of her paycheck at the end of the week. He'd made her work life impossible, and she'd had to leave. Lesson learned, and she now fished in different ponds.
"It's complicated." She caught Mary, Emily's sister, watching her from the patio. The tips of her ears burned at the memory of Mary teasing over the change in Sophie's attire, swapping her usual shades of black for a yellow sundress before they descended the stairs to the barbeque today. A light wind blew up, causing the skirt of said dress to flutter, exposing more of her thigh than she was comfortable with, and she stamped it down with her hand.
"I can handle complicated." Max's voice drew her back to him. Those warm brown eyes scanned her face, and she had the impression of being in a spotlight, like he only had eyes for her.
"Um, yeah. Well." His intense stare made her squirm. There was something different about him. Like he really saw her. "It's rare for a chef to walk away from a successful restaurant, so that leaves us up-and-comers trying to get in on new ones."
"What about starting your own?"
She laughed up at the bright blue sky. "That's even rarer. You'd need a location, investors, suppliers, staff." She rubbed her forehead. "It's a lot of work. And so many fail within the first year."
"But you wouldn't." His sincerity and confidence in her lit a little flame in her chest. Max put down his empty plate and picked up the second one. "I don't know what half of this is, but it's delicious."
Others had expressed similar sentiments, mostly to be kind. Her parents attempted such sincerity every time she visited their restaurant in New York, but she could read the concern in their eyes, could hear the "why not take over our business, its safe and secure" between their words during their Sunday night phone calls. Emily and Mary supported her taste, testing her fusion dishes and brainstorming potential restaurant names, but they were realists as well and shared their worries about the viability of her opening a new place without backing.
"Thanks. That's a Mandu you're eating." He scooped up the last of it and shoved it into his mouth. Then closed his eyes, an exaggerated expression of ecstasy taking over his face. She shoved at his bicep, fruitlessly. "Okay, it's not that good."
"I'm going back for more." He stood, and she enjoyed the view of his backside as he strode across the lawn. He really wasn't her type and when they'd danced, he'd had to look up at her in her high heels. She'd worn flats purposefully today. Max's dark hair was cropped so closely against his tanned skin. She would have nothing to run her fingers through. Her fiancée had been tall and lean with golden hair like a halo.
Why on earth was she comparing Max to Thomas? A shiver ran down her spine.
"Are you cold?" Max blotted out the sun, hovering over her.
"No. The breeze from the lake just caught me."
Max moved to her other side and sat down, creating a barrier between her and the water. "Better."
"Yes. Thank you. But you won't get cold?"
"No, I grew up in Wisconsin. We can handle the cold."
"I've never been." Sophie plucked a carrot off his plate. "Never been anywhere, really. Not like you. Finn's told us about all the places you and he traveled to."
Max's gaze drifted to his former commander and the look of adoration mixed with something she wasn't sure of washed across his face. "We had some good times."
"Do you ever think about leaving?"
He shook his head. "Not sure what I'd do with myself without the Navy." He lifted his plate. "I don't have a calling like you."
"I'm sure there are plenty of things you're good at." She tapped her knee against his. "Doesn't the military pay for school or something?"
"There are programs. But I was never good at classroom learning."
"Too boring?"
"Too distracted."
"Ah, pretty girls... or boys."
Max huffed, and his knee pressed against hers. "There was a pretty girl. But honestly, I was more interested in baseball at the time."
"Baseball." Sophie nodded. "I can see that. Let me guess, pitcher?"
"No, short stop." He held up his fork. "And before you say it, I didn't get the spot because of my height."
"You're not that short."
"Shorter than most women like." His gaze flickered to hers and then back to the plate.
Sophie shifted closer, their thighs pressing together in the afternoon sun. "You seem the perfect height to me."
Hi folks. D L here. I wanted Sophie to be fun but also a little closed off because of her past. How did I do? Do you want to read on? Comment to let me know.