“We need to get the fire going, girls.” Cody tied off the pots so that the lobsters remained in the water. “Go out and scrounge up some driftwood. Think small pieces first.”
Jean and Lizzy scampered away in opposite directions.
Stacey watched them with a smile. “What can I do?”
“All we’re going to need is a good fire. Have you ever built one?”
She threw her shoulders back and let him see her indignation. “I’ll have you know I’m a professional at that. When you live part of your life in different spots all over the world you learn some survival skills.”
“Well, all right, Ms. Professional Fire Builder, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Getting down on her hands and knees, Stacey scooped out a hole in the sand. With that done, she pulled some paper off the roll Cody had brought down. By that time both the girls had returned with kindling-size driftwood. “Now run and get some larger pieces and we’ll soon have this fire blazing.”
Jean and Lizzy took off.
“Hey,” she said over her shoulder to Cody, “do you have those matches?”
He sat the large boiler he’d filled with water down next to the fire pit and dug into his vest pocket, bringing out a small box of matches. Her hand brushed his as she took them. Awareness shot through her. Her hands shook as she tried to strike one.
“If we’re going to have cooked lobster then we’re going to need a fire, Ms. Professional Fire Starter. Do you need my help?”
Stacey took a stabilizing breath. She could do this. Leaning close to the paper, she struck another match and the paper and kindling caught fire. “I’ve got this.”
Cody grinned. “I see that.”
The girls returned with their arms full and dropped the wood on the ground. Stacey added pieces and they soon had a roaring fire. Standing, she stretched the kinks out of her muscles. She glanced at Cody. Their gazes met for a moment.
Jean called, “Daddy, put the pot on.”
He hesitated a moment before turning away to pick up the boiler and carefully place it over the fire. “It’ll take a few minutes to boil.”
“What do we do now?” Stacey was enjoying this adventure more than she had anticipated.
“We need to set the table.” Cody picked up the roll of paper and opened it across the ground.
“We’re going to eat on that?” Stacey looked at his arrangement in amazement.
“Yep. Jean, you want to help me with the lobster?” He handed Stacey a small metal bowl and the stick of butter on his way to the boat. “Will you put the bowl near the fire so it’ll melt?”
Stacey did as he asked, aware of Lizzy watching.
Soon Cody and Jean returned with a lobster pot carried between them. “We’ll get this one in then go get the other two.” Pulling heavy gloves on, Cody removed the lobster.
“Watch the pinchers, Daddy. You know what happened last time.” Jean moved to stand beside him as if she planned to protect him.
“What happened?” Stacey really wanted to know. To be included in the shared story within this close-knit family. She had so few stories of her own with her family. What family? She only had her mother. They had never really been a family like Cody and his girls were. She always missed that.
“Daddy forgot his gloves and tried to get the lobster out without them. It pinched the end of his finger and he danced around.”
Both girls giggled while Stacey laughed.
“It hurt.” Cody sounded pitiful, but he smiled.
“It was so funny.” For once Jean appeared happy and her age instead of older than her years.
“You can see I didn’t forget them this time. I left them in the boat, so I’d have them close.”
Stacey grinned. “I can see it now in the papers: ‘Eminent surgeon loses finger to lobster.’”
“Funny, very funny. If you’re not careful, you might not get to eat.”
Right now, Cody was nothing like the uptight, humorless and far too serious doctor she’d first met. She liked this guy. Really liked him.
Lizzie came to sit beside Stacey, crossing her legs. When Cody held the lobster over the boiling pot, Lizzy clutched Stacey’s arm. “Oh, this is the part I don’t like.”
“Why not?” Stacey searched Lizzy’s stricken face.
“Because the lobster cries.” She put her hands over her ears.
Cody lowered the lobster into the pot. Soon a small keening filled the air.
Stacey wrinkled up her nose and twisted her mouth. “That is bad.” She covered her ears.
“Well, well, well, such a tender heart.” Cody had leaned close so that she had no trouble hearing him. “You don’t flinch at the sight of blood but you’re sympathetic to a lobster.” His low chuckle rolled through her, leaving behind a lovely warmth.