“Mom!” Percy called, tugging at her sleeve. “Smell this!”
Isla bent down beside her son, who was crouched near a cluster of herbs growing in terracotta pots along the courtyard’s edge. The scent of sun-warmed rosemary and thyme filled her nostrils, earthy and aromatic.
“That’s extraordinary,” she murmured, running her fingertips over the silvery leaves. She glanced up at Kirk. “Do you grow the herbs too?”
Kirk shook his head. “No, this is all my mom’s work. The herbs, the flowers, she has a way with plants.”
“Is that where you get your green fingers?” Isla asked, straightening up.
“Kirk hasn’t got green fingers,” Percy retorted with the matter-of-fact confidence of an eight-year-old.
“No,” Kirk agreed, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers with a small smile. “See?”
Percy giggled. “I see.”
“It’s just something we say about someone who likes to grow things,” Isla explained, smoothing Percy’s hair affectionately. “And who is very good at it.”
Percy’s brow furrowed in thought. “Like Kirk is good at growing chilies?”
“Exactly,” Isla said.
“You’re good with him,” Kirk whispered.
Isla glanced up, surprised. “He’s my son.”
“Yeah,” Kirk said with a small shrug. “But not everyone makes it look so easy.”
She looked down at Percy. Did she make it look easy? Being a single parent certainly didn’t feel easy most of the time.
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Isla said, suddenly self-conscious under Kirk’s thoughtful gaze. Something about the way he looked at her, like he was really seeing her, made her want to fidget like Percy did during long car rides.
“It is,” Kirk insisted. “Trust me, I’ve seen plenty of parents at the restaurant who look like they’re herding cats rather than enjoying a meal with their children.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ve done my fair share of herding cats,” Isla said, just as her stomach let out a loud growl. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I should let you guys eat.” Kirk took a step back.
“We really should,” she agreed. “Hey, Percy, let’s sit down and look at the menu. Maybe you could try a dish with chilies.”
“Chilies?” Percy’s nose wrinkled, though not as dramatically as it had at the shack.
“If you want,” Isla said quickly. They were both hungry and tired, and this was not the time to try to expand her son’s palate. “If not, you can eat something else from the menu.”
“Is Kirk going to eat with us?” Percy asked, looking up at him with undisguised interest. “Please?” he added before Isla had a chance to respond.
The question caught her off guard. She hesitated, weighing her answer. Did she want to say no? Maybe having some adult company for once would be good. And she could ask Kirk a few questions about the town. So, yes, if he wanted to stay and eat with them, that would be up to him.
Or up to fate. She’d always thought that fate walked beside her. It was a fanciful idea, she knew, but still...
Isla looked up at Kirk, who raised a questioning eyebrow at her. He was asking for her permission. And she liked that about him. She liked it a lot.
“Please join us.” The words came out more formally than she’d intended. She cleared her throat. “Well, that came out more formally than I meant it to.”
“I’d love to,” Kirk replied.
Isla looked around at the scattered tables. “You said you would show us the best table.”
“I did,” Kirk said with a smile, then spun around and gestured to a table set slightly apart from the others. “This is the one.”
