Stella MacLean - Sweet On Peggy

“What do you like?” she asked.

“When it comes to music, I’m old-fashioned. I was raised on ’60s music, thanks to my mother’s love of it.”

“I like it, too.”

He slid the fish into the frying pan. “Did you get that from your mother, as well?”

“Not really. It’s just great music, the beginnings of today’s more modern, less appealing music.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” He turned those blue eyes on her again and she felt her mouth go dry. “Plates?”

“Oh, yeah.” She went to the cupboard and took out two plates. “I’ll take the salad to the table,” she said, feeling like a teenager suffering through her first crush.

They ate their dinner together, laughed lots to the accompaniment of their favorite music. “I haven’t had this much fun since I came to Eden Harbor,” he said, holding his coffee cup in his hand, his attention on her.

“Me neither.”

He put his cup down and reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Thank you.”

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