A friendly argument at the kitchen table snagged her attention.
Two sets of teenaged twins, hers and Marcie’s, played a board game with their aging grandfather, Milton Ian Accord.
Marcie bustled between the stove and the refrigerator, pulling together lunch. Her husband, John, not so dapper today after helping Noah outside all morning, his hair more salt-and-pepper than ever, did his best to keep up with Marcie.
Marcie had made her peace with Donna before her death years before.
Monica had made her peace with both her father and her sister before she married Noah. Since then, the rewards had been too great to count.
She had never figured out whether that hole in her core, that sense of something missing, had been about her mother or her twin, but now her life was so full it no longer mattered.
Noah’s fingers slipped inside the buttons of Monica’s dress to feather the sensitive skin of her stomach, sending shivery chills through her.
“Ah, Noah,” she said. “How can you still do that to me after all of these years?”
Mouth close to her ear, he growled, “Where is it today?”
Leaning against his big, solid body, gloriously happy, fulfilled and safe in her husband’s arms, Monica said, “You’ll have to find it for yourself. Later.”
His laughter rang through the old farmhouse.
* * ***
Keep reading for an excerpt from TABLE FOR TWO by Jennifer McKenzie.
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Table for Two
by Jennifer McKenzie
CHAPTER ONE
THE LAST TIME Mallory Ford had seen Travis Kincaid he’d had his face buried in another woman’s lap. That woman hadn’t been wearing panties.
Normally Mal wouldn’t have felt anything except embarrassment and foolishness for not knocking first. But Travis had been in his office with the door unlocked and they’d broken up only an hour earlier. Her overriding emotion had, therefore, been anger. And although that had been more than a year ago, she still hadn’t forgiven him. She didn’t know a person who would have.
Seeing him now, that same anger roiled up in her and made her want to dash the contents of her wineglass in his face and cut him down with some pithy commentary. The only thing that held her back was the fact that they were at her brother Owen’s backyard wedding reception. That and the fact that she was too couth to lower herself to name calling and wine tossing. She hoped.
He looked good in his white shirt and pants. All the guests were wearing white, but Travis looked especially healthy, his tan a direct contrast to the pale clothing. Living in Aruba had clearly suited him. Mal fiddled with the hem of her own white dress—a lacy fitted number with long sleeves and a high neck—and turned away.
She’d known Travis would be in attendance, seeing as he was best friends with Owen, but that didn’t mean she had to talk to him. Instead, she crossed the small patio to the side opposite Travis and joined a conversation with some old family friends she hadn’t seen in a while.
The wedding and reception were about a quarter of the size of her oldest brother Donovan’s wedding, which had happened in January, but the less formal event suited Owen and his new bride, Grace. Her parents owned the gorgeous farm they were on now. The ceremony had been out beside a small pond while the sun set and the reception was in their backyard, which felt as luxurious and stylish as anything in the city. The forest of trees behind them, the overhead heaters and the lights strung around the space created a magical environment. It helped that Grace was a professional wedding planner and her team had taken over all the decor.
The space felt warm and cozy. Welcoming. And it gave Mal the chance to chat with some of the people she’d missed at Donovan’s nuptials.
That was until Owen came and dragged her away.
“Owen.” She stumbled over a root as he sped up. “What are you doing? I was talking to those people.”
“It’s my wedding. I’m allowed to steal you.” But he did slow his stride enough that she was no longer worried about breaking an ankle.
Mal glanced up from her feet, and immediately wished she hadn’t. Owen was on a mission. With her. One that was leading straight toward Travis Kincaid.
She sucked in a breath and dug her nails into her brother’s arm. No. No way.
Travis looked over at her, his expression a mixture of nerves and yearning. And hunger. Mal felt a shiver work its way over her body. She remembered that hunger, how it overwhelmed and devoured. How much she used to love it. She stopped walking.
Owen looked down at her. “I’d like to see the two of you talk.”
Mal swallowed and shook her head. She didn’t want to talk to him. But when she tried to take a step back, to return to the safety of her earlier conversation and location, Owen gave her a small nudge.
“You can do whatever you want after, but talk now.”
Mal stared at him. How could he do this to her? He knew things were over between her and Travis. Granted, he didn’t know all the details because she’d never told anyone. She’d been too embarrassed at first and then she’d just wanted to forget everything. And, okay, she’d sent Owen to see Travis when he’d needed a friend, but that didn’t mean she was fine with Travis, that she was ready for a nice little chat and all was forgiven.
Owen’s expression softened, turned imploring. “Consider it my wedding gift.”
“I already bought you something.” A set of matching leather luggage packed with monogrammed robes and a trip to a weekend spa getaway in Napa Valley. Owen and Grace both worked long hours and Mal knew this was one way to ensure they’d take a few days for themselves when they needed it.
Owen put his hand over hers. “I’d rather have this. For both of you.” He started walking again.
Mal was forced to walk with him or end up being dragged behind him. Not exactly the elegant and cool image she wanted to project. But she didn’t feel cool at all. Not even the breezy spring evening helped. She felt the beads of sweat forming on her spine as they took the last few steps to come to a stop in front of Travis.
He reached up to loosen his collar. But his clear display of nerves didn’t lessen her own or make her feel any better. Mal swallowed and blinked when Owen let go of her hand and started to walk away.
“Where are you going?” she called after him.
“I’ve got a date,” he called back. “With my wife.” Mal watched him cross the yard to where his lovely wife stood with a group of friends. He took hold of her hand and led her around the side of the house, out of sight.
Mal watched for a moment longer, waiting to see if Owen would reappear, this time with Grace to add a little social lubrication to ease the awkward situation he’d placed her in—but he didn’t. She wanted to turn and walk away, too, to go anywhere, talk to anyone else, but good manners and her well-developed sense of pride compelled her to stay where she was.
“Travis.” Even saying his name hurt.
“Hello, Mal.” His voice was the same, that low blend of heat and roughness. It threatened to take her out at the knees. She locked them, determined to keep them firm beneath her. “Nice night.”
; She stared at him. Was that all he had to say? This was what Owen had dragged her over to hear? She nodded and waited.
“It’s good to see you.”
She didn’t respond in kind—because it wasn’t good to see him. She felt naked, exposed, as if everything she was thinking or feeling was bared for anyone to see. And none of it was anything she felt comfortable sharing. “Right. Well, if you’ll excuse me.” She moved to go, to leave and never return.
His voice stopped her. “Mal.”
She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath of woods and earth. She didn’t want to do this. Not even a little. She turned back and looked at him. “What do you want, Travis?” She saw no need to play coy or to act like things were anything other than they were.
“Just to talk.” He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. Distance that Mal liked right where it was.
She wrapped her arms around her body. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.” Not on her end, at least. She’d said what she needed to over a year ago.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, a familiar gesture. He was upset and anxious. Well, too bad. So was she and she hadn’t done anything wrong. “Will you at least let me apologize?”
“Why?” She steeled herself against the sorrow in his gray eyes—he’d brought it all on himself. “Why now? And why bother?” He’d had plenty of time to make amends, to atone. Instead, he’d left her alone—radio silence.
“Because I want to.”
Because he wanted to? What about what she wanted? To be left alone to live her life without the painful memories that seeing him brought. She gave her head an airy toss. “I’m over it, Travis. You don’t need to apologize.” She held her body tight, her arms close, careful to let no part of her even hint at touching him.
But he didn’t back off. “Mal, I know things ended badly.”
She did not want to talk about this. Not at her brother’s wedding reception. Not ever, in fact. “Travis, there’s nothing to talk about.”
In her mind, there wasn’t. She’d needed to stay in Vancouver and help out the family after her father’s heart attack—Travis had stayed in Aruba. They’d been living six thousand miles apart and there’d been no sign of their situation changing. Still, they’d tried. For a good four months they’d tried. They’d talked on the phone, texted, sent emails and connected through video chat via computer. But their lives seemed to be heading down different paths, and with no simple solution, the answer had seemed obvious. To end the relationship.
She’d flown down to tell him in person, feeling as though their relationship deserved that much, hoping things could end amicably as he was close with Owen. But he’d shot down that hope. He pinned the fault on her, calling it a choice, acting as if she’d chosen her family over him, which wasn’t the case. She wanted to be together, but her family needed her at that time and Travis wouldn’t give up the bistro in Aruba. In her mind, he was the one who’d said no to a future together. And had confirmed it by burying his face in another woman’s lap.
“If that were true—” his gaze was hot “—then you wouldn’t have spent the majority of this evening avoiding me.”
“I’m not avoiding. I’m one of the hosts. I have guests to greet, mingling to do.” Her chest felt tight, her cheeks hot.
“I’m moving back.”
What? Okay, fine. Did he want a parade? “Congratulations.”
“Aren’t you going to ask why?” He cocked his head, that charming grin that used to make her weak in the knees playing around his lips. She hated to acknowledge that it still made her knees wobble slightly.
She locked them tight. “I’m sure it doesn’t matter to me.” Because they weren’t together and whatever city Travis decided to call home had no effect on her life.
“My gram.”
Those might have been the only two words in the English language to stop Mal from simply turning on her heel and exiting the conversation. She loved his grandma. Mildred Dawes was small and gray and, as she liked to claim, “full of beans.” Her love of life and family touched Mal in a way she hadn’t known before meeting the woman.
Mal swallowed the angry words, the hurt feelings, and looked at Travis. “Is she okay?”
Mildred was just one of the many things Mal had lost when she and Travis had gone their separate ways. Mal didn’t remember any of her grandparents. Two had died before she was born, the others when she’d still been too young to form full sentences, but Mildred had acted as a pseudo grandparent, instilling common sense and down-home wisdom whenever she thought it necessary. And, according to Mildred, it was often necessary.
Travis smiled. “She’s fine now. She had a little scare with her lungs that turned into pneumonia, but she’s recovered. It’ll take more than that to keep her down.”
Mal reached out without thinking and put her hand on Travis’s arm. The heat seared her palm and she jerked it back. “I hadn’t heard. I...I’m glad she’s okay.”
“Me, too.” He smiled. “It sort of brought home the truth about what I was doing with my own life.”
She didn’t want to know. She’d given up her right to curiosity about Travis’s life when she’d walked out of his office and never looked back. “And what was that?” She curled her fingers into her palms.
“I thought I needed the business, but it’s not worth much without the people you love.”
Her nails bit into flesh even as she told herself he wasn’t referring to her. Even if he was, it was too late.
“I sold the bistro.”
“What?” She blinked, glad she’d already locked her knees as it prevented her from reeling.
They’d opened the gorgeous beachside restaurant in Aruba together. Had planned to work there for a few years, watch it grow and enjoy the Caribbean lifestyle. And then her father had had a heart attack and Mal had been needed at home. When she’d explained to Travis, she’d thought he understood. Her family needed her. She had to go back. But he hadn’t. Apparently he’d thought the business and his life on the beach were more important. Before she’d even gotten on the flight to go back home, he’d been consoling himself with another woman.
“I had some interest from buyers. Once things happened with my gram...” Travis shrugged. “I decided to take them up on it.” His eyes caught hers, held. “I’ve missed you, Mal.”
She swallowed, tried to breathe in some clarity and muttered, “Can’t have missed me that much.” Seeing as he’d never once contacted her since she left Aruba.
“I did.” He reached for her hand. “I was just too stubborn to admit it.”
She pulled her hand back. “Well, now I’m too stubborn to believe you.”
He studied her for a moment, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve really missed you.”
Had he really? She looked at him, risked staring deep into those dark eyes she knew so well—had looked into so many times before. What she saw there scared her. Not the fallacy of a glib tongue or polite conversation. But naked honesty. Yet she just couldn’t. She wasn’t that Mal anymore. Couldn’t be. “It’s been too long, Travis.”
“Has it?”
Mal didn’t know what to say to that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew what she should say, what her head told her to say, but there was that little matter of her heart. So she kept her silence, managing only a quick nod.
“Mal.”
She shook her head so violently that she felt it in her temples. “No, Travis. I don’t want to talk here.”
“Then let’s go somewhere else.”
Mal shot him a look. “It’s Owen’s wedding. I’m not leaving.”
But she should have known that wouldn’t be enough. Travis had grown up in a small paper-mill town, a rough and tumble place where he’d learned to push for what he wanted and fight when
necessary. Polite platitudes and dressed-up words wouldn’t put him off.
“Then we’ll talk later. After the reception. You tell me a good time and I’ll make it happen.” He took a step toward her. “Midnight. Six in the morning. Three days from now. I don’t care. I’ll be available.”
“Travis.” She didn’t finish. He didn’t give her the chance.
“I’m only asking for one conversation. Just one and then you’ll never have to talk to me again.”
The old Mal would have agreed. Would have heard him out. But the old Mal had been burned by this man and she shied away from allowing it to happen a second time. “I should go. Say hello to the other guests.”
She walked away before he could say anything else. She couldn’t listen to it, not now. And with each footfall, the surprise and shock of Travis’s homecoming turned to something she could hang on to. Something sharp and hot and angry.
Mal headed around the house, following the same path Owen had earlier. Seriously, if it wasn’t his wedding she’d have had to kill him. In fact, she might have to do it anyway. Grace would understand. There were certain behaviors that were just not okay. Forcing your sister into a chat with her ex ranked right up there.
“What were you thinking, Owen?” She didn’t care that she was interrupting him making out with Grace. They should be out mingling with the crowd, anyway.
“Busy here, Mal,” Owen said, his eyes still on Grace. But then that was nothing new. When Grace was in the vicinity, Owen’s eyes tracked her. Even now, when she was pressed up against the side of the house with nowhere to go and his arms around her, Owen’s gaze shifted when Grace did. Mal pretended she didn’t remember that Travis had once been the same around her.
“Yes, I can see that. But I’d like you to explain why you dragged me into a conversation with Travis.” Even now, Mal could feel the flush of embarrassment warm her cheeks. She was glad the reception was outdoors, and although it had been an unseasonably warm March, it was hardly summer weather.
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