Bishop took my hand. “Close your eyes again.” I did. “Now, tell me who you see. Who told you that?”
“My father,” I whispered, squeezing his fingers. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“My pleasure.”
We stayed a few minutes longer, then he untied the canoe and paddled us to the camp. A pair of buffleheads rode the small chop near the shore. They dove and surfaced in turns.
He brought us in at the dock, I stepped out, and after he returned the canoe to the rack, we followed the path to the boathouse.
“How doescacio e pepesound?” he asked before we went inside.
“Really good.”
“Dinner will be served at eighteen hundred.”
“I’ll be there.”
He’d opened the door, but quickly shut it. “Thirty minutes on that island, and I didn’t do this once.”
When he cupped my neck and kissed me, I was tempted to tell him that, if we left now, I could help him cook.
He made the decision for me when he announced we were five minutes late for a videoconference with Doc and Gunner.
“Wait. What videoconference?”
He raised a brow. “It’s on your calendar, kitten.”
I pulled out my mobile and saw the alert on the screen. “So it is.”
The doorto Ohkwari was unlocked when I arrived at seventeen thirty. I opened it and stepped inside.
Bishop was at the stove, the fire was roaring in the main room hearth, and the table was set for two. He looked over his shoulder when he heard me.
“You’re early,” he said.
I hung my jacket on the hook by the door and crossed to the kitchen. I peeked into the pot, where hehad butter melting with cracked pepper. The pasta was boiling on one of the other burners, and freshly grated cheese was in a dish on the counter. “I thought maybe I could help.”
“You can. Definitely.”
I washed my hands and dried them. “Okay, ready for your instructions. I hope I’m up to the task, whatever it is.”
“Oh, you are. In fact, you’re very good at it.”
I raised a brow.
Bishop set the spoon he’d been stirring the butter concoction with on the counter and snaked his arm around my waist. “Kiss me, kitten.”
I reached around him and turned off the burner under the butter, then gave him the best kiss I could.
“Wow,” he said, breaking it only because the timer went off, indicating the pasta was ready.
“How’d I do, chef?”
“Pretty good.”
I put one hand on my hip. “Prettygood?”
“Yeah, but I think, after dinner, we should practice more.”
