Stepping Up To Love (Lakeside Porches 1) by Katie O'Boyle Page B

to the first chair to buff it dry. It took a few minutes to work her way around. Joel was thick-slicing the mushrooms when she came in. “Thanks for not using a whole roll of paper towels to dry off the furniture,” he said.
    “I couldn’t find any white linen napkins,” she told him and was glad to see a smile curve on his mouth.
    “I will need more coffee. That was a great pot, thank you.”
    Manda worked around him easily. “We’re a good team,” he observed.
    She smiled, thinking about how well they had fit together on her futon during the storm. And then there was the wild sex of her dreams.
    “What’s that smile?” Joel teased.
    “A girl needs her secrets,” she insisted and changed the subject. “You really know how to handle that omelet pan.”
    He nodded. “If it weren’t so important for me to use the community, I would cook all my meals.”
    “What do you mean ‘use the community’?”
    “At one time, I didn’t know my way around a kitchen at all, and I ate every meal at one restaurant or another, either alone or with friends. That really put on the pounds. I cut down on restaurants and started cooking for health. That had consequences. The local businesses worried that I didn’t like their food or had another favorite restaurant, or yada yada. I realized then it was important to keep good relations with local food service providers. So I continued to eat around town, but in self-defense enlisted their help with a healthy food plan. It has all worked out well.”
    Joel cut the omelet in two and slid each half onto a plate. “If the coffee’s ready, I’ll take a carafe out to the balcony. Will you grab the plates and the forks?”
    Moments later, seated on the porch overlooking the lake, Manda moaned with pleasure at the taste of the omelet. “What is that herb?” she asked.
    “Cilantro. While the eggs are setting up in the bigger pan, I use a small pan to sauté the mushrooms in olive oil with a little fresh ground pepper and cilantro. I do need to take these calls,” he apologized when the phone buzzed in his pocket. “And you can’t leave until Tony gives the all-clear.”
    Manda was in no hurry to leave. She tipped back her chair and propped her bare feet on the porch railing. Joel, she noticed, followed her example, all the while carrying on a conversation with one of the contractors.
    The sun warmed them. Manda sipped her coffee and listened with half an ear as he fielded phone calls from the work crews and the insurance company and the displaced family. After a while his voice got testy, and she knew he was past his limit. She checked the carafe, poured the remaining coffee in his mug, and took the dishes inside. She decided not to start a fresh pot and, instead, washed her way through the plates and pans, and found where they belonged. Joel came inside, mug in hand, looking for more coffee.
    He scowled at her just as she reached to put the larger pan on the rack over the stove. It fumbled in her hand, and she caught it just as Joel grabbed it away from her.
    “Let me do that,” he snapped. “Make another pot, will you?”
    Manda backed away and let him see the fear in her eyes. Her voice trembled when she said, “You are no good to anyone right now; you need sleep.”
    Joel looked like he wanted to say, “How dare you!” but he held his tongue.
    “I came inside when you started snapping, and it did not get better.” She kept her gaze steady when she told him, “You’re way more effective when you’re rested.” She watched his jaw harden, but she stood her ground.
    Slowly, Joel’s face changed as he realized how badly he’d treated her and how much he’d frightened her. His voice was deep and dark when he told her, “You are right. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
    Wordlessly, he handed his smartphone to her. He walked into his bedroom and closed the door, leaving her standing with her mouth open, cradling his phone in her hands.
    Manda quieted her breathing