Love and Leftovers by Lisa Scott Page B

fantasy land, that was for sure, but she had six weeks left, so she was going to enjoy it.
    The bell rang and Alexa dashed to the front door and opened it before Lucy could catch up. "Hi!" Alexa shouted.
    Tate grinned, holding a bowl of sliced fruit. "Hello, there."
    "Alexa, this is Tate ... " Lucy looked at him. "Sorry, I don't know your last name."
    "Carson. Tate Carson."
    "It has a nice ring. Come on in."
    Alexa put her hands on her hips. "Our last name is Boyd, that's boy with a d at the end, but we don't have any boys in our family. Not anymore," Alexa said, shaking her head.
    Lucy sighed. "As you can see, Alexa is shy."
    Tate laughed.
    Lucy took the bowl from him, her fingers brushing his. Something caught in her throat, so she quickly headed for the kitchen. "You picked a good day to drop your dinner. It's magic meatloaf night."
    Tate laughed. "I've never had that."
    "We just add whatever we want to the meat," Alexa explained. "So far we have corn, salsa, bacon, and jelly." She counted the items off on her fingers. "What do you want to add? Pick anything from the 'frigerator. Anything." She adjusted the little crown on her head.
    Tate looked at Lucy like he was waiting for the punch line.
    "That's the gist of magic meatloaf. Go on, take a look. See what you'd like to add."
    Tate surveyed what they'd picked so far. "You need some sort of binder, like breadcrumbs." He took a bag of tortilla chips from the counter. "How about these? We can pulverize them in the blender."
    "All right. Let's get started." Lucy dumped the meat in the bowl along with the rest of the salsa.
    "Mommy, you're forgetting the dance."
    Lucy narrowed her eyes at her daughter. "We don't need to do that every time."
    "Yes, we do."
    "A dance?" Tate asked.
    Lucy cringed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "We do this little bunny hop, hokey-pokey thing as we add in each ingredient. But we don't have to do that tonight. Seriously. We don't."
    Tate laughed. "Oh, yes we do. I'm sure the meatloaf won't turn out right if we don't."
    Lucy didn't have time to protest because Alexa started hopping around the room. "You put the salsa in, you put the salsa out ... " Alexa sang.
    Tate jumped behind her. "You put the salsa in and you shake it all about."
    "Stir it," Alexa corrected.
    "Right, of course," Tate said, biting back a smile. "Stir it."
    Lucy joined them. "You do the magic meatloaf and you stir it all around."
    "That's what it's all about," all three of them sang as they hopped around the table.
    First and last dinner this guy's going to have with me, Lucy thought. Cory will laugh her butt off when she hears this.
    They added the rest of the ingredients and kept singing and dancing and laughing. How could she be so comfortable around this guy so soon? Maybe because he'd already embarrassed himself in front of her? Whatever the reason, she liked it.
    When it came time to dump in the jelly, Tate grabbed the jar. "That'd make a nice glaze." He shaped the mixture into a loaf, slathered it with jelly, and put it in the oven.
    "You know your way away around a kitchen," Lucy said.
    Tate looked at her for a moment. "You have to when you're single."
    She blinked a few times. That was good information to know, and interesting that he made a point of telling her. "I guess you do." They stared at each other, and she snapped away her gaze. What was she thinking? She'd decided she was going to wait quite a while before she started dating anyone. And she certainly couldn't have a fling during a summer vacation with her daughter, right? This time was for her and Alexa. It would be nice to have a friend next door, but that's all Tate would be - a friend.
    "We should set the table," said Lucy.
    "Let's eat outside. It's a beautiful night," Tate said.
    "I need to clean up out there first." Lucy groaned to herself, remembering her craft projects on the table. Too late to hide them now. She opened the door to the deck, delighting in the warm, salty breeze. "God, I love it