by A. J. Pine
“Okay.” Who could argue with ten times better?
“What are we talking about?” A long, heavy arm came to rest over Kimmy’s shoulders.
Kimmy would never admit Booker’s touch sent her heart fluttering or that she edged closer to him.
“I was just about to say that you two are needed at the grill.” Ariana smiled at Booker. “But you’re so cute together.”
Kimmy stopped a reflexive disbelieving eye roll. Booker being gorgeous and Kimmy being bang-challenged—a cute couple they didn’t make.
“We are, aren’t we?” Booker drew Kimmy closer, next to his firm chest and his body heat.
Instinctually, Kimmy wanted to turn into him, to snuggle closer, to lift her face for a kiss.
But this is Booker.
“Whew.” Kimmy skirted out from under his arm on unsteady feet, balancing her wineglass with one hand. “It’s getting hot out here. Come on, grillmaster. Let’s see what’s for dinner.”
For a moment, there was a look in Booker’s eyes that Kimmy didn’t recognize, a gleam that left her feeling breathless.
This isn’t my Booker.
But then Booker fluffed her bangs and glanced away.
Kimmy stared at him, trying to reconcile this Booker with the Booker she’d known most of her life and failing.
“Go mingle,” Booker told Kimmy in a gruff voice. “I’ve got this covered.”
“Are you sure?” Kimmy cradled the bowl of her wineglass between them.
“Yep.” He went over to join Hay at the grill.
Leaving, Kimmy feeling oddly bereft.
“Well, aren’t you a surprise?” Haywood poked a steak with a fork, releasing some of its juice.
“Did you learn nothing while working at the Burger Shack?” Booker took possession of the fork, leaving Hay to pick up his beer.
“How long have you and Kimmy been dating?”
“Long enough.”
“Best-kept secret in Sunshine,” Hay teased. “That is, if it’s been longer than a day.”
Booker jabbed the meat harder than Haywood had. “You don’t have to go telling everybody.” In case things crashed and burned sooner than the wedding.
“Are you kidding?” Hay moved closer, lowering his voice. “Let’s tell everybody. This is what you’ve wanted for years.”
“You always did gossip like a girl.” But Booker smiled. “Don’t jinx it.”
Hay sipped his beer and stared toward the outdoor fireplace, where his guests were congregating. “Don’t break her heart.”
“I won’t.” Booker knew he couldn’t have Kimmy’s heart and her sandwiches. “This is just a friend helping out a friend.”
“Who’s helping who?” Hay turned serious. “Hurt her and I’ll have to give you a pounding.”
“I told you, I won’t.” But Booker’s shoulders were as stiff as steel.
Kimmy laughed at something Ariana said. The sound of her laughter was magnetic. Who was he kidding? Kimmy was magnetic. Smart, attractive. And she was gutsy. That food truck…He’d looked into the business once. It took hustle to make those profitable. If anyone could succeed at it, she could.
Hay raised his beer bottle toward her in salute, cheery on the outside, threatening with his words. “Have you told her?”
“I told her about college.” He’d been interrupted trying to tell her about the menu at the Burger Shack.
“She must have taken the college part of your story well.” Hay studied Booker’s expression. “Or not.”
“You never should’ve taught her how to give a charley horse.” He rolled his arm where she’d shoved him at Shaw’s and then turned the steaks.
“Good for her.” Hay grinned. “You know, I had a late lunch at the Burger Shack today, hoping to see you. Got a glimpse of Dante. He looked like working there was punishment.”
He’d whined like it too. Booker needed to get a whining jar for the Shack. “He’ll get over it. I did.”
Hay shook his head. “Your dad started you there when you were ten. Dante is seventeen. He’s not going to get over it.”
“Hard work has a way of changing people.”
“It changed us,” Hay agreed. “But that’s because we had to work—you so Dante could get well and me because my family needed food on the table.” And now Hay was a successful real estate agent. Maybe not selling million-dollar homes the way he’d dreamed as a kid, but he did okay.
“Whatever’s being said here is way too serious.” Kimmy came to stand between the two men. She had no idea how beautiful and sexy she looked. Kimmy stared at the steaks and breathed deeply. “There is nothing like the smell of grilled meat.”
Booker put his hand on Kimmy’s waist and tucked her to his side. He was nearly overcome with a sense of rightness, a need to pull her close and keep her there.
She gently pinched his waist. “I said, there’s nothing like the smell of grilled meat.”
“Ah, the sensory game,” Hay said, draining his beer. “I haven’t missed playing that at the Shack.”
Booker knew from his friend’s wry grin that wasn’t true. Hay liked mental challenges, and the sensory game was full of them—sights, sounds, tastes, touches, smells. “We’re doing good aromas? I’m partial to the smell of buttered popcorn.”
“Coffee, first thing in the morning.” Hay set his empty bottle down on the grill’s side table. “Too easy.”
“It’s only too easy if you win the game,” Kimmy insisted. “Mention a smell we both dislike and you lose. I like the smell of chocolate chip cookies.”
“Oh, man. We haven’t played this game in forever. I’m rusty.” Booker curled his fingers around her hip, trying to think of an answer. “There’s nothing like the smell of…” He drew in a deep breath.
There’s nothing like the smell of Kimmy’s hair.
Hay and Kimmy were staring at him, waiting.
His gaze caught on the flowers on the table. “There’s nothing like the smell of roses on a hot summer day.”
That earned him dual groans.
Barbara Hadley approached. She was the town queen bee, the owner of Prestige Salon, where Ariana worked, and the mayor’s wife. She was too thin, too put together, too brittle. Although she was smiling, she looked as if she knew something they didn’t. “Well, well, well. Booker and Kimmy. What a surprise.” She tossed her blond hair artfully.
Next to him, Kimmy stiffened.
Barb sidled closer, a spider looking for a fly. “How long have you guys been seeing each other?”
“Not long.” Booker pressed a kiss to Kimmy’s bangs.
“But long enough.” Kimmy slipped her arms around Booker’s waist and stared up at him. She was smiling broadly, and if he fuzzed his vision, he couldn’t see the hint of worry in her eyes.
The queen bee could be cruel. And if Barb sensed their relationship was a sham, not only would she expose them but she’d never let them forget they couldn’t fool her.
“Long enough?” Booker murmured, dipping his head. “Long past due, you mean.”
And then he kissed her.
Chapter Seven
Holy moly. The man could kiss.
Kimmy nestled closer, drawn to the warmth, drawn to the intensity, drawn to the combination of strength and softness. Drawn to…Booker.
Hot. Dog.
“Nothing to see here.” Hay’s words drifted to her through the fog of desire.
Booker pulled away enough to stare into her eyes. It was the same face she’d grown up with. Handsome, strong. Dark eyes that gave away only the secrets he wanted you to know. This time she recognized the look in them. Booker wanted her. He wanted to kiss her again.
She stiffened because…
Holy moly. I want him to kiss me again too.
This was wrong. All wrong. They were friends. They’d always been friends.
And yet it felt right. So right.
She half expected Booker to pull back farther and laugh, that deep chuckle he released when he’d pulled
one over on somebody, as if that kiss had been a joke. And if he did that, she’d have to laugh, force air through her lungs and make a lighthearted sound that said she knew what he’d done was all in fun, and she approved of the kissing charade.
Booker and Kimmy and Hay. The trio used to be a team. Working together like a well-oiled machine at the Burger Shack for years. Ribbing each other and the world at large good-naturedly.
Booker and Kimmy and Hay. They were friends. Regardless of her childhood crush, they had had fun together.
But that kiss…That kiss had been Booker and Kimmy. Friend zone breached. No fun intended.
Her knees were weak, and it wasn’t just because of the way Booker’s kiss had affected her. It was because it was a surprise.
Booker and Kimmy, no Haywood. The dynamic wasn’t exactly wrong but it was different. New.
She’d felt attraction for Booker before he’d returned but she’d never picked up on his want, his need. She didn’t know how to react or what to say.
Without moving away, Kimmy slid her gaze toward Hay, seeking out the familiar connection of the three musketeers.
Immediately, Booker released her. “Meat’s about to burn.”
“I’ll get it.” Kimmy reached for the fork.
Booker held it away. “I’ve got it.” The chill in those words. She got the message. He thought she cared about Hay’s reaction to their kiss.
She didn’t. She stepped back, taking in Hay’s beautiful backyard. The guests’ upbeat chatter. Barb’s melodious laughter. Ariana’s delicate beauty. The twinkle lights. The Chinese lanterns. The breeze swaying the branches.
Kimmy stared at Booker’s broad back and remembered…
Summers when she helped her mother clean Ariana’s house or Barb’s. Watching Barb and Ariana sun themselves in the backyard while she dusted their pretty, expensive things. Every visit making her realize the differences between them.
She remembered winters when they couldn’t keep the heat on higher than fifty in the house at night because they couldn’t afford their electricity bill. Sleeping in two layers of clothes and beneath two blankets and a sleeping bag to stay warm.
She remembered high school bells ringing. Kids running to after-school activities—sports, clubs, causes. And Kimmy running to work at the Burger Shack. She was a member of the family at the Shack. Never cold. Checked on by Mrs. Belmonte if she called in sick.
And then there were Booker and Hay.
For three years, the teens had done the heavy lifting at the Shack while little Dante battled for his life. They’d signed up for the most shifts and worked the most hours.
Oh, they hadn’t been complete angels. There’d been food fights and grill-offs. And competitions. Man, the competitions. Who could eat the most burger patties in five minutes (Hay). Who could clean the dining room the fastest (Kimmy). Who could prep and slice the most potatoes for French fries before Mrs. Belmonte came back from the dentist (Booker).
Three teens who enjoyed each other’s company and shared the value of hard work.
And now?
It was as if they shared nothing.
The only time Kimmy saw Haywood was when he stopped in for a sandwich. She hadn’t seen Booker in years. What kind of friendship was that?
Kimmy knew the answer. It wasn’t a friendship. She didn’t belong here.
She took another step back.
She could leave. No one would miss her.
She could walk home a mile or so in heels. She’d suffered through worse. She was suffering now.
Another step and…
“I’m glad you came.” Hay took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Don’t go.” Booker took her other hand and gave it a squeeze.
She felt their gazes upon her but couldn’t look at them. If she had, she might have done something stupid, like shed a tear, grateful as she was for their past friendship.
But here in the present, Booker had kissed her.
And she was afraid nothing was ever going to be the same again.
“Did I hear right?” Booker’s mom came through the back door into the Burger Shack, dressed for work in black slacks and the Shack’s black polo shirt. The thick streaks of gray in her hair glimmered under the fluorescents. “Are you dating Kimmy Easley? Can I say I heartily approve? It’s about time you took a moment to think about your future.”
“Mom.” Booker jumped into the void when his mother took a breath. He’d been prepping potatoes, and he dried his hands on a towel. “Don’t start planning my wedding. Kimmy and I have always been good friends.”
“And she always had that crush on Haywood.” His mother tsk-tsked. “Patience really paid off for you, didn’t it?”
Patience? He’d kissed Kimmy at the first opportunity. And when it was done, she’d looked at him in just the way he’d imagined. Slightly breathless, slightly dazed, completely blissful.
And then she’d looked at Hay. Shades of summers past.
Booker gritted his teeth.
And then Hay had taken her hand, sensing—much as Booker had—that Kimmy wanted to bolt.
Booker’s jaw clenched so hard that it popped. He’d driven her home but the ride had been quiet.
“Can you imagine the two of you together?” His mom opened the supply cabinet and grabbed a bag of napkins. She was like a savant, sensing the staff who’d closed last night hadn’t refilled the dining room’s napkin holders. “Dark-haired babies with your smile and her smarts.”
“Mom.” Seriously, the woman needed a hobby. “Shouldn’t you be home? Gardening or knitting or something?”
“Knitting?” His mom rushed to his side, dark eyes wide and hopeful. “Baby booties?”
“No. No babies.” Booker put his hands on her shoulders. “I meant you shouldn’t come in the Shack every day. I bought it from you so you’d be able to enjoy life. You’ve given so much to Dante and me. It’s time you focused on you. Book a massage at Prestige Salon.” If she didn’t, he’d make the appointment for her. “Join the gym.”
“But…” She crushed the napkins to her chest. “This is my life. And when Dante leaves for college…”
“You’ll have Dad,” Booker was quick to say. He drew her back toward the office. “You can travel, like you always talked about.”
His mother sat down in a chair by the door, still embracing the napkins. “Your father doesn’t want to travel. All he’s interested in is the television remote. He discovered he can record shows last night. And this morning, he’s watching all the shows he recorded.”
Booker frowned.
“So you see, Booker”—his mother turned puppy-dog eyes his way—“unless you’re going to give me a grandchild, the Shack is all I have.”
“Your bangs bothered me all last night.” Ariana shook out a black polka-dot cape and fastened it around Kimmy’s neck. “I even dreamed about them.”
“I’m sorry?” Kimmy was still unsure of her footing where Ariana was concerned. Add to that the fact that she’d helped her mother clean the salon a time or ten and it felt odd to sit in a client chair. “I didn’t know hairstylists were bothered by the botched work of other hairstylists.”
“All the time.” Ariana picked up Kimmy’s bangs and let them fall. Repeatedly. “So.” Her gaze met Kimmy’s. “What was it that finally got you and Booker together? Hay and I have talked about the chemistry between you guys for years.”
“Years?” That couldn’t be.
Ariana chuckled. “Were you the last to know?”
“Apparently.” It was hard to believe that others had noticed an attraction and she hadn’t. Booker was just…Booker.
Caring. Considerate. Smart. Handsome. Sandwich thief. Booker.
Ariana lightly sprayed Kimmy’s bangs with water and took thinning scissors to her hair. “To think we were all in high school together. It’s funny, isn’t it? I was such a dork back then. Trying so hard to fit in.”
“You did fit in.” Ariana had hung out with Barb and the i
n-crowd.
She shook her head. “I felt like I was one wrong shoe decision away from expulsion. If it hadn’t been for Haywood…” Ariana fluffed Kimmy’s bangs. “He’s so grounded. And funny about money. I wanted to get engaged way back. You know, when we had that little break.”
Oh, I know.
Kimmy pretended the silence wasn’t awkward as she waited for Ariana to continue.
Haywood’s bride-to-be worked some mousse into Kimmy’s hair. “There was a reason Hay didn’t want to get married when we were younger. He wanted to make sure we were financially stable. His parents never have been.”
Kimmy kept silent.
Hay’s parents, like Kimmy’s, were blue-collar workers. But Hay’s sports ability had earned him a place on the popularity ladder, which Kimmy had been unable to climb. But she wasn’t about to admit any weakness while in Prestige Salon—the hub of town gossip.
“So I waited because he’s so totally worth it.”
Booker might be worth it too.
A dangerous thought. So Kimmy chose silence again.
“And then at the town’s tree-lighting ceremony, he proposed with the choir singing Christmas carols and the lights sparkling in the trees. It was perfect.” Ariana grabbed a hair dryer and blew Kimmy’s bangs dry, raising her voice to be heard. “I hope Booker is as romantic as Hay is.”
Kimmy wanted to say, That man is not going to propose to me.
Kimmy should say, I hope so too. If only to keep up the ruse that she and Booker were indeed infatuated with each other, which would give the impression that Kimmy was no threat to Ariana’s special day.
But Kimmy managed only a meek “Yep.”
Who was she kidding? Booker was going to be gone in a week, managing his growing restaurant empire from Denver. He’d probably forget about that kiss before he returned home. If he was thinking about settling down, he certainly wasn’t thinking about settling down with Kimmy, chemistry or not.
Ariana returned her hair dryer to its place near the rest of her tools and picked up a flat iron. After a few passes over Kimmy’s bangs, it was time for hair spray and a final fluff. “There.” She whipped off the drape as dramatically as a stage magician. “Booker is going to love this. Parted to the side, it gives interest to your face and makes your eyes look huge.”