by Tracy Ewens
“It . . . it’s not. I had a couple of what we daters now call a ‘coffee trail,’ but I’m starting to figure out that it’s not them. I mean, sure, my first date was a nightmare—”
Travis barked, and Kenna smiled and they were back to normal.
“He really was, but some of these other guys are fine. Great even, but I don’t want to get to know them. I don’t care about their stories and for the life of me, I can’t imagine ever telling them any of mine, let alone introducing them to my life, my daughter. See, it’s me. I never realized it until I got out there a little, but I’d much rather be here, working or hanging out with my family or Sage. I’m sure some single women get excited about dinners or learning about a new man, but I just feel awkward. I’d much rather stay home and read a good book.”
“That can be fun, but pretty solitary.”
“Do you read, Travis?”
“I do.”
“What kind of books?”
He could tell she fully expected him to say something like Playboy or James Bond, and he could have, but this was the first real conversation he’d had with a woman in a while. Actually, since his last conversation with Makenna, and he wanted to keep it going for just a little longer.
“I like mysteries, crime or spy stuff. It needs to be fast moving, because I have a short attention span. I’m sure you’re shocked.”
Makenna laughed and was now picking at the edges of the white dust cloth she held.
“I like Patterson,” he continued. “Although I’m really into Daniel Silva lately. I always feel like I’ve been on a really cool vacation after I read one of his.”
Kenna’s mouth was almost open. He enjoyed the response he got when he was honest and genuine with her. She never expected him to be human; it threw her for a loop, which was added fun.
“Daniel Silva? I love Daniel Silva. I’ve read them all. I just finished The English Spy, which wasn’t my favorite but still brilliant. I honestly don’t know why Ciara puts up with him. That scene where he paints over her clouds, what was that? Oh, wait, have you read it yet?”
She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever known, had sex with, or otherwise. He wasn’t sure if it came from being raised by a single father and two brothers or living on the farm or having a daughter on her own. He had no idea what made her who she was, but he offered up thanks for whatever created Makenna Rye Conroy and put her in his life. She was full of feeling. Unafraid to show she was trying new things. Maybe that’s why his eyes refused to look away. He shook his head indicating that he had yet to read The English Spy.
“Oh, sorry, I’ll shut up then because I hate when people spoil it for me. Logan and Garrett both do that. I’ll just say that Gabriel Allon is one of my favorite book boyfriends. He’s a close second to Roark from the In Death Series, which is really saying something.”
“Ken?”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Fine, Makenna.”
The sound of her name, her full name, sent a chill up his neck. He was sure he’d said her name before, hadn’t he? Whenever he thought of her, which was more and more frequently these days, he always thought—Makenna. From the look in her eyes, it seemed like she was savoring warm coffee, maybe with a little Bailey’s in it. Based on her expression, he was sure he’d never said her full name before. She was hearing him say it for the first time.
“Makenna,” he said again just for fun.
“Yes, what?”
“I like the way that sounds. It’s a nice name.”
“Thank you. Yours is nice too, although I hate it when people call you Trav. It makes you sound, I don’t know, like you have a big gold chain around your neck and you wear sweatbands.”
“Tube socks too.”
“Yup, throw those in. Trav is like a Will Ferrell character, but Travis is more . . . Paul Newman. I like it.”
“Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Newman, or The Hustler, Newman?”
Makenna appeared to mentally scroll through her catalogue of Paul Newman films. “No, I’m thinking more Cool Hand Luke, Newman.” She met his eyes and he felt the neck shiver thing again. Cool Hand Luke was his favorite Newman movie. Did she know that?
Travis laughed off his feelings. “Great. I’ll let my mother know you approve. Give me those cans of tomatoes, will you?”
She handed up the four cans. “Huh.”
“What?” He stacked the cans and turned to her for four more.
“I’ve never thought of your mother. What’s she like?”
“She’s a mom.”
“Well, of course she is. I meant what’s she like.”
“That is what she’s like. She was born to be a mom and she does it really well. Carpools, cookies, PTA, all of our football games with a cooler. She’s that kind of mom. Her name is even Mary.”
“Wow, I think I know some Marys at Paige’s school. Does she wear great clothes too?”
“Always.” He took the last of the cans and climbed down the step stool.
“Monogrammed towels?”
Travis nodded.
“Summer camp every year.”
“Spring and Christmas family portraits,” he added.
“She’s the works. Do you like her?”
Travis skipped a beat. “I’m not sure anyone has ever asked me that. Yes, I do like her. Well, let’s put it this way, I love her. She’s a great mom and has always been there for me, so long as I stayed in line. Do I like her, who she is, and what she represents? I’m not sure.”
“Huh,” she said as they moved down the wall to the rice and grains.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. I’m too nosy.”
“I’m an open book.”
“You are certainly not.” Kenna typed figures into her laptop.
“Um, yes I am. Nothing to hide.”
“That’s not true. We all have things we hide.”
“Ask me anything. Right after you hand me those bags of lentils.”
She handed several bags to him.
“Fine. Are your brothers nice?”
Travis laughed. “Nice? Why, are you thinking of dating one?”
She swatted him with the last two bags of lentils. “See, you’re avoiding with humor. It’s okay. I do that too.”
“I’m not avoiding anything. My brothers are competitive. That’s how we were raised. John is successful and he wins. He always wins.”
“He’s the older one, right?”
“Yeah, he’s a coach at USC. He played college ball, quarterback, and two years with the 49ers until his rotator cuff gave out for good. Surgeries and lots of PT. When he healed, schools were falling over themselves for him. He’s the second in command at USC football. He’ll probably be a head coach before he’s forty-five.”
There was an awkward silence, but Travis found himself screwed up just thinking about his brother. The guy didn’t even need to be in the room to rattle his cage. Travis moved bags and boxes around on the shelves with pinpoint focus. Yes, he was angry—filled with it sometimes. That’s why he’d taken up boxing, but it clearly wasn’t working.
“Oh,” she finally said.
Travis glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I’ve just never heard such a . . . rote description. You should do his PR.”
He could tell she was trying to lighten things up, but his shit—the energy spilling off of him at the thought of his brother—was probably freaking her out. Apparently, his open book was a scary one. He pulled in a deep breath, let it go slowly, and turned to her, leaning up against the section of shelving he’d just whipped into shape as if it were a Little League team. “Sorry, but that’s John. He’s the golden boy. Family hero.”
“I see. What is Andrew?” It was interesting that she assumed everyone in his family had a part. They did. Very perceptive, but he guessed every family had players. He’d told her he was honest, an open book, but as the tension crawled into his shoulders, he decided that was a stupid reveal. He
continued. No turning back now.
“Drew is the prodigy. He was their midlife baby. Nine years after me. Three-sport all-star athlete. Third draft pick. He’s a halfback for the 49ers. Second string, but still my father’s wet dream. Finally.”
Yeah, the look on her face told him she had never seen this side of him, and she probably didn’t want to because most people preferred fun, flirty Travis. Needing to break the awkwardness again, he grabbed the bags of flour and stacked them under the shelves.
“And you are?” She touched his back, and Travis froze.
He wondered if he could pretend he hadn’t heard her. He turned and wiped his forearm across his forehead. She wanted to know the role he played. Yeah, it was time to close the family album. How the hell did they end up on this subject in the first place? Oh right, he had nothing to hide. Stupid ass.
“Okay, well, this looks great. Much better.” He crossed his arms and pivoted around the large space. “Did you record all of the inventory you needed?”
Makenna nodded, saying nothing. He could feel the questions circling in her mind.
“They’ll all be here next week, so I’m sure you’ll get to meet ‘the fam.’ It’s a treat, believe me.”
“They sound pretty perfect. What’s the problem?”
“Oh, they are perfect. That is the problem. All the pieces fit together. Hell, last summer they even vacationed together.”
“They? Aren’t you part of ‘they’? A piece?”
Travis laughed. A piece of shit, he thought but didn’t say. “There’s nothing perfect about me. We all know that.”
The slightest spark flashed in her eyes and then it was gone. Makenna finished her inventory on her laptop and packed it into her bag. They both walked back toward the kitchen and Travis hit the light. Makenna turned to him in the doorway, the glow from the kitchen highlighting her expression. She touched his face, looked at his lips, but leaned in to kiss his cheek instead. He thought about turning so she’d kiss his lips, but when he kissed Makenna for the first time, allowed himself to taste her, he didn’t want it to be an accident. When he kissed her? Christ, he was in trouble.
“Travis?”
Her endless green eyes met his as she remained standing in the doorway. He couldn’t speak, so he raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment.
“Perfect is boring.”
He grinned. “Unless we’re talking spreadsheets,” he joked, because he was about to drag her back into dry storage and lock the door.
Makenna laughed and walked through the door. “Yes, but only in the case of spreadsheets.”
By the time Logan arrived with a stupid grin on his face, the inventory was done. He and Travis spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon finishing up the tasting menu they were going to serve to Grady and Kate next week. Kenna had all of the options, and she was formatting a card they would print so the happy couple could check their preferences. The Malendar wedding was still a couple of months out and so far things were going smoothly. She had emailed the wedding cake baker, and he agreed to send over samples for the tasting next week so they could present Kate and Grady with a taste of the full wedding dinner. Kenna had to admit it was fun putting together a couple’s wedding, at least from the catering perspective. The wedding planner handled other things like seating and the wedding party. That didn’t seem to be quite so much fun, but the food had proved a pretty interesting experience.
Logan sat next to her, peeking over her shoulder as she finished typing up the selections.
“That’s confit, not condit.”
“Thank you,” Kenna said through the pen she was holding in her mouth. She made a few other corrections and saved her document. “Done. Okay, so Sloan, aka perfect hair, is the wedding planner and she just emailed me that she will be handling the wine.”
“Why? If we’re doing the food, wouldn’t it make sense that we’d have our guy do the pairings?”
“It would make sense, but that’s not how they want to do it. At least, that’s not how Sloan wants to do it.”
“That’s stupid. Why do I feel like this is some kind of weird wedding team power struggle?”
“Oh get ready, my dear brother, you’re next. I spoke to Kara last week and she said you guys were getting married on the beach?”
“Well, we’re just in the early stages and she wants the beach. I just want her. So as long as the food is good and she’s there, I honestly couldn’t care less.” Logan’s face was warm. “Oh, and you guys, I’d need you there too.”
“Thanks. I think the beach is a beautiful idea.”
“Yeah, well, back to reality. I’m a little pissed about the wine, so I might talk to Grady about that when they come in because it makes no sense. The wedding planner probably has some connection to a big distributor that can buy and sell our guys up the river, and I don’t think that’s what Grady wants.”
“You don’t think that’s what he wants, or it’s not what you want?” Kenna smiled.
“Both. I’ll talk to him.”
“Sounds good. I’m still emailing this to the big bad wedding planner though and then you can look at their selections.”
“Great. How’s your life going? I saw Paige at Dad’s yesterday. Things go all right with Adam’s parents?”
“They did. It seemed like they had a great time and Paige came home with lots of new clothes and extra sand, so that usually means a successful trip.”
“And the dating thing?”
“Subtle, Lo, very subtle.”
“Kara wanted me to ask. She said you seemed pretty discouraged.”
“I’m finding my way. It’s a little artificial for me, you know?”
“I do. Maybe the online thing isn’t a good idea.”
“Maybe not, but I don’t exactly have time to hang out in bars and my life doesn’t put me in contact with a lot of single people. It’s fine. I’m good single. I was thinking I needed to get out there, but that feeling is starting to pass. I’m meeting some guy this weekend, so we’ll see.”
“What about Travis?”
Kenna almost fell off her seat. “What about him?”
“Have you ever thought of dating him?”
She’d thought of Travis more than she wanted to admit in the last few weeks; couldn’t stop actually. Was it that obvious?
“No,” she lied.
“Huh, well, maybe you should.”
“Why? Travis is . . . we work together and he has a pretty substantial reputation.”
“He just hides behind all that stuff.”
“Oh, okay. Where is this coming from?”
“Kenna, you’re open to letting someone in your life. Travis is obviously interested.”
“He is not obviously anything. I’m not his type.”
“What is his type?”
“Tiny dresses, big boobs, not much talking. Trixie came in a few days ago in a sad attempt to see Travis. She looked like a damn supermodel. I’m not that.”
Her brother looked genuinely puzzled. “You dress up for dates. I don’t see the difference. And I’m going to pretend you didn’t just bring up Trixie as a viable option for Travis.”
“A viable option? I know he’s your friend, but I don’t get the impression that Travis needs options. He seems perfectly happy with what he’s doing.”
“Oh, come on Kenna, that’s all a game. Why do you think the guy makes lunch for Paige?”
“Because he, because she’s his . . . He’s being nice. I’m sure he feels bad that I’m rushing around, or . . . I have no idea why he makes her lunch.”
“I do. He cares about you.”
Kenna said nothing. She felt like she’d slipped down some rabbit hole where everything she used to understand no longer applied. Her brother was telling her Travis had feelings for her as if it was the most natural, expected thing in the world. As if it was so obvious and she was ridiculous for not seeing it.
“Am I ridiculous?”
She hadn’t realized she’d
said it out loud, but Logan laughed.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s pretty obvious, at least to me. Ask him.”
“Ask him what?”
“Why he makes Paige’s lunch.”
“No, that’s such an odd question. I mean what if he doesn’t know?”
“Or, more likely, what if you’re afraid to hear the answer?” Logan stood, patted his sister on the back, and returned to the kitchen.
Well, thanks for that, big brother. As if she needed anything more to think about.
Chapter Twelve
Travis showered after a few rounds with Brick. The last round, he had really “held his own,” according to David. That was progress. He’d pushed hard this morning to get some of his crap out because he knew there would be a text on his phone by the time he got to work.
Good morning! Sorry you couldn’t meet us last night for dinner. We are thinking of stopping by the restaurant tonight after the game. Too bad you’re going to miss the game too. Your brothers are really bummed.
“Oh yeah, I bet,” Travis said out loud to an empty kitchen.
We can’t stay long, though, maybe just drinks, because Drew needs to get to the airport.
“And God knows where Drew goes, so go the rest of you.” He was talking to himself again. He hadn’t even seen them yet and they were already making him crazy. He slipped the phone into his pocket and tied his apron at his waist. He didn’t reply; he didn’t need to. They’d show up tonight either way. It was as if he orbited around them, occasionally bumped into them, but never really connected. He wasn’t sure when that had happened, but he was pretty sure it was around the time they stopped having anything in common. They’d have drinks, probably not eat any food just to spite him, and then go back to their lives until the next time they found themselves in his “neck of the woods,” as his father liked to say. John lived fifteen minutes away from him, and the only time they spoke to one another was when the family got together. That was to be expected, considering he was now married to Travis’s ex, but every now and then Travis realized just how messed up it all was. None of it really mattered right now though because he had a tasting menu to finish. Grady and Kara would be in around two, the wedding cake guy was bringing his samples by one, and there was work to be done. His kitchen, his life, his work.