“Six is good.” He took a step backand jabbed his finger her way. “Looking forward to it.”
And she stood there for what seemed like forever as Bruce walked away before spurring herself into action, having an idea what she would make. She remembered what he loved and what he didn’t and hoped nothing had changed. Yes, Bruce Siegel, I’m going to make you an amazing dinner.
***
Chapter Three
She had changed three times trying to find the perfect outfit for tonight, but everything made her butt look too big or frumpy. She’d settled on a short jean skirt and black sleeveless T. She put on gold hoops, and after fighting with her hair and its waves, which always gave it that messy “just out of bed” look, she finally gave up and pinned it in a loose bun. She put on some blush and a light brush of mascara, and as she glanced at the image staring back at her in the mirror, she realized she really looked good.
So many of her hopes and dreams had been dashed that she was afraid to hope for anything to come of tonight. “Well, don’t look like that,” she told herself. “He’s coming for dinner. You’re friends, that’s all.” Was she a fool to want more?
The timer on the stove dinged, so she raced into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on dinner: roasted lamb with rosemary, garlic, baby potatoes, and steamed asparagus. She’d done up a small salad from a mix from her garden with a roasted shallot dressing. She’d spent hours putting together this meal to make it special, and she wanted it to be perfect, to see the joy on his face when he tasted what she’d made for him. She’d picked wildflowers and put them in a vase on the table.
She had just checked the lamb—and it was perfect—when she heard a car. Living out in the country, Kim didn’t have much traffic, and she could hear a car before she could see it. She looked out the window in her kitchen to see Bruce’s two-door Mercedes, black and expensive, with a trail of dust behind it. She watched as he pulled up the slight hill and parked beside her pickup in front of the house. She couldn’t get over how nervous she was as she fought the urge to race to the door. She took her time, waiting in the kitchen until she heard him on the steps and then knocking on the screen. The front door was open, allowing some air into her house, which overheated from May until September. She came around the corner. “Great timing!” she said.
He pulled open the screen door, and the hinges squeaked. Damn, he looked good dressed in blue jeans and a short-sleeved navy shirt. He had that freshly showered and shaved look, and even his scent had her knees feeling a little weak.
“Here,” he said. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, red or white, so I brought both.”
She hadn’t even realized he was holding wine. Not that she drank much. She hadn’t even thought about picking up any. She had lemonade and ice water in the fridge.
“Great, either would be fine. Come on in. Dinner is ready—I hope you’re hungry?”
He winked, fun and flirty, as he let the screen door slap closed behind him. She must have been staring at him, because he suddenly stood in front of her and raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” she said. “Come on into the kitchen. Why don’t you open the wine? I’m not sure which. I made lamb. Is there a certain one?” She’d never understood pairing wine with food. As far as she was concerned, if she wanted a glass of chilled white, she didn’t care if she was having a burger. It was what she wanted.
“They say red, but it doesn’t matter. No preference?” He was looking around as he walked ahead of her into the kitchen, putting the wine on the counter, taking in the small, cozy room. It was an older home, two bedrooms, one bath, the kitchen done in warm tones—she’d painted it herself—with an antique table with four chairs set by a large window that overlooked the pasture in back. “Nice,” he said.
She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until she let it out. She hoped he liked her house. “It’s small, but I like it,” she said. This was her house now, but it hadn’t always been.
He didn’t say anything as he opened the red wine. He looked at her over the rims of his glasses, and there was something about Bruce wearing glasses that she loved. “Do you have wine glasses?”
“Yeah, of course.” She went over to the small antique china cabinet, all glass and wood, which matched the table, and pulled out two glasses. “Here you go.”
He filled both and lifted them, pausing as he handed one to Kim. Her fingers touched his, his touch warm. It had her wanting him to run his hands all over her.
“Mmm, smells good,” he said.
She loved his expression, which was pure joy. “Well, it’s ready. Why don’t I put everything on the table and we can eat?”
Why was she so nervous? Come on, pull it together. She put down her glass on the counter. Bruce was standing right by the sink, so close to the oven that Kim bumped him as she slipped past.
“Sorry, small kitchen.” She wasn’t sorry, though. She loved the feel of him brushing against her.
“Can I help with something?”
“Why don’t you take the potatoes to the table, and I’ll bring the lamb?” She handed him the bowl of fresh baby potatoes after dropping some butter and chives overtop. She was using her good dishes, the ones with the blue flowers, and he seemed to appreciate the extra touch she’d put into the food—or maybe he was just hungry. Kim lifted the roasted lamb from the oven, sliced it, and put it on a platter, then took it to the table with the asparagus she’d steamed.
The table really looked nice. Napkins by the plates, her grandmother’s silver. She rarely pulled it out, but tonight she wanted everything perfect.
“Here you go. Your wine, madam.” He put her glass in front of her plate and pulled out her chair.
She couldn’t explain the feeling that came over her when he made that simple effort, the touch of his hand to the small of her back, holding her chair while she sat and sliding it in, looking down at her for a moment and then taking his seat across from her. It meant so much to her, and it was something no man had done before. “Thank you.”
He took his time sitting down, and she felt giddy as she sat straight, touching her napkin and then unfolding it to rest on her lap. “Please dig in.” She gestured toward the food, then lifted the glass and took a swallow of the wine—a large one, for courage. She needed it to steady her nerves. What was wrong with her, being so nervous with Bruce? She knew him well. They had been teenage lovers, promised to each other until he left. But he’d been back for a few years, and though they talked all the time, she’d never gotten over what happened.
“You really are a good cook.” He sliced the lamb and forked a piece with a potato into his mouth.
She couldn’t help watching his lips, the fullness of them. She remembered how well he could kiss. She needed to stop, as she could feel her face warm, so she quickly slid a piece of sliced lamb onto her plate and dished up potatoes and asparagus. She took a bite and could feel his eyes burning into her. There was something about the way he was watching her that felt like a question, as if he was wondering something and not sure how to ask. Whatever it was, it had her stomach knotting.
“So why’d you really want me here, Kim?”
That certainly wasn’t what she’d expected. Maybe this was good, though, instead of all the dancing around they’d been doing for the past few years. Neither one of them had talked about what had happened. He’d never come back, and she’d married someone else. It hurt, and she’d cried herself to sleep a lot of nights. She put her fork down and squeezed her napkin, staring right back at the man she’d always loved. And would forever love. He was older now, not the teen she’d snuck out with and met in the barn and carried on a love affair with—the young man who had stolen her heart and never given it back. “You’re not seeing anyone,” she said, afraid it had sounded like a question.
“No. There was someone for a time.”
Who? She wanted to ask him, to demand to know. She leaned forward, and maybe her face betrayed her, showing how jealous she was
feeling. The last thing she wanted was to know that Bruce had been with someone else, but then, after eighteen years, of course he had. She couldn’t stand the thought.
“I heard you got married,” he said. “What happened to your husband?”
Oh, there it was, the one thing she wished she could go back and undo. Marrying Craig had been a mistake.
“Didn’t last,” she said. “It couldn’t. He wanted things I could never give him.” Mainly her heart. Craig had loved her, but no matter how she tried, she hadn’t been able to love him as she did Bruce, had never been able to give him all of her. Of course the man had known. There had always been three people in their bed. What made it worse was that Craig had realized the ghost of Bruce would forever be between them, so after two years of trying, he’d left. Kim had been alone ever since.
“What sort of things?” Bruce asked. He was holding his wine glass, swirling the red liquid around, but he didn’t lift his gaze from her. He was pushing, and his expression was unfamiliar. The man wasn’t giving anything away.
Why was he pushing this? Bruce wasn’t the same dashing, idealistic teen she’d fallen in love with, but then, she was no longer the starry-eyed girl who’d believed the universe revolved around him. That life was a fairytale. This man having dinner with her, who had returned to Columbia Falls after eighteen years away, was older, more mature. He had accomplished what he’d set out to do and then some. He’d always wanted to be a doctor. She just hadn’t realized he was ever interested in being a pediatrician. Why kids?
“He wanted my heart, all of it…but I already gave that away.” She lifted her knife and fork and forced herself to take another bite. The rest of the meal they ate in silence, and she didn’t realize she’d drunk all her wine until Bruce reached over and filled her glass. Of course she welcomed the buzz, feeling lightheaded.
“Great dinner.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, holding his wine glass and drinking. There was something in the silence between them that they’d avoided for too long.
She smiled shyly. She didn’t know why she was feeling so awkward with him now. All the hurt from the past was a ghost between them. He’d left her and never returned like he said he would. It had hurt for so long, believing she’d been forgotten.
“So tell me about the one who got away,” she said. “How long were you together?”
He gave her an odd look she couldn’t make sense of. It was like driving past an accident, needing to get a peek of the tragedy even though the best thing was to move on.
“She wasn’t the one who got away,” he replied. “It was over, but by then we’d been together fourteen years. Grace was a doctor, too.” He wasn’t really elaborating, and Kim wondered how much she’d have to pry to get him to share.
“You worked together?” she asked. So was he attracted to educated women? Kim had a high school diploma and nothing to show for it except a meager income from the land she rented for grazing and crops. Then, of course, she also worked off and on at the feed store when they needed her.
“Met in medical school. She was a friend. It kind of just happened.” He finished off his glass, and for a minute, the way he glanced away, out the window, she could feel him pulling back. Maybe he was considering whether it was time to leave—but she didn’t want him to go.
“So she’s the one you left me for?”
He turned his head back slowly. “Not sure what you’re talking about, Kim. I never left you. Grace was after I heard you were married. So why’d you marry him?” He leaned back in the chair and it creaked.
“You’re really not going to let it go? Well, I had to move on. I thought I could love him. He was there for me after you left.” What else could she say? Craig had always wanted her. She had known he was there on the sidelines, waiting for her, and he’d been there as a friend when her world fell apart. Either way, if Bruce hadn’t left her for another girl, maybe it was because he’d wanted something or someone better. That thought hurt even worse.
“What’s going on in your head, Kim?”
She touched the stem of her wine glass, considering all the things she’d wondered about for so long. Every possibility hurt worse than the last. To not be wanted was such a horrible feeling that had hurt her pride more than she’d admit to anyone. “If it wasn’t for a girl, what changed your mind?” she finally said. It was time to know no matter how much it hurt. Maybe then she could finally move on and stop pining for the man she would always love.
“I’m not sure I’m following you, Kim, but let me be clear: I went away to medical school, and you married someone else. I called when I could, and never once did you call me and tell me you found someone else. Having your father tell me you were married and to leave you alone, it took me a long time to stop hating you.”
As she watched Bruce, she was struck but a sense of surreality. She didn’t know how to begin to make sense of what he’d just said.
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