Reserved

by Tracy Ewens

  “Sorry, I’m just a little wired.” He wanted to tell his best friend, but how did a guy go about telling his friend he couldn’t stop thinking about a hot kiss with a beautiful woman when that woman was the friend’s sister? Yeah, you didn’t. You kept your mouth closed and sliced lemons, so that’s what he started to do as Logan turned and walked to the front kitchen with the cutlets.

  “Okay, I’ve never seen that stupid look on your face, so I’m guessing my sister has something to do with it,” Logan said, pushing back through the door a few minutes later. “Now, if that’s the case, I really don’t want the details. At the same time, you’re my friend and I want to know, so let’s talk about this but on neutral terms. Like . . . food. Let’s use food.”

  Travis wasn’t sure this was such a good idea, but he agreed.

  “Okay, I need to make this quick before Todd burns the hell out of your cutlets, so . . . I’ve got it. Remember those really great strawberries we saw when we were at the market last week?”

  “The ones you said we should do something special with, like shortcake?”

  “Yes, those are the ones.”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “If I were to go back to the market and get those berries, would there be a reason to celebrate? Like something out of the ordinary that would warrant making strawberry shortcake?”

  Travis laughed. It probably would have been easier to just tell him that yes, he’d kissed Makenna and watch him squirm, but this game was sort of fun, too.

  “Yeah, I’d say we could use them today. Something out of the ordinary did happen that would call for special strawberries.”

  Logan nodded. “Good.” That was all he said. Before he got to the door, he turned back. “Just make sure you don’t waste the strawberries, or I’ll kick your ass.”

  Travis shook his head because that made absolutely no sense, but he understood the warning.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all I ask. We need more lemons.”

  “I’m on it.”

  They sold out of the dinner special and closed just after ten. Travis was walking out to the parking lot when his phone vibrated with a text from Makenna. He read it and realized it was coming from Makenna’s phone, but Paige had sent it. He had a stupid grin on his face all the way home.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sundays were normally set aside for coffee with Aunt Sage and then the library, although last Sunday they’d given up library time for a Jack and the Beanstalk puppet show. This Sunday, they were supposed to get back on track because they had lots of books to return and not much left to read. Their library, or “li-bary” as Paige often called it, time was way overdue. Last night, when they’d arrived home, Makenna had ordered pizza while Paige took a bath. Once they were snuggled in their pajamas, Paige asked if they could skip coffee and the library because she wanted to leave plenty of time to make cookies for her school bake sale.

  “These need to be super duper,” she’d said, biting into her giant slice of pizza. Makenna had a feeling this had to do with Sierra, but she didn’t say. Instead, she called Sage, who was exhausted from a long night and fine with skipping coffee. Kenna managed to get the scoop on how things went at The Yard the rest of the night and Sage’s brief online dating update, which wasn’t much; her heart didn’t seem to be in it either. Kenna somehow avoided mentioning the kiss. Part of that was because Paige was sitting right next to her and the other part was she wanted to see the look on her friend’s face in person.

  Now that Makenna was home, she wasn’t sure if the kiss had actually happened or if she’d simply dreamed the whole thing up again. No, it was as real as that vertigo feeling she had every time she thought about it. With no plans for their Sunday, other than cookie making, Kenna agreed to let Paige stay up, and they watched Brave for probably the hundredth time.

  The doorbell rang a little after eight on Sunday morning. Paige was on the couch watching a documentary on the Galapagos tortoise, or at least she was when Makenna fell back into bed at around six. Who the hell was at the door on a Sunday?

  “I’ve got it, Mama.”

  Yeah okay, Peach, thank you—Wait, what? Makenna flew out of the bed. “Paige, don’t answer that—” Too late. Her daughter was standing next to Travis, who was crouched down hugging Paige with one arm and holding a paper bag in the other. He looked up, the corner of his mouth barely turning up, and slowly stood.

  “Looking good, Makenna.”

  Holy smokes! She brought her hands to her hair and tried to pat and fluff, but it was no use. She blew the strands she could see out of her face and for the gazillionth time in her life, attempted to look normal. This time was a particular challenge because she looked down and realized she was in her red-and-white-striped pajama bottoms and a white tank top. No bra. Great. She crossed her arms, but he’d already noticed. Damn it!

  Travis, on the other hand, appeared to be freshly showered, wearing cargo pants that looked like he had been born in them. She had cargo pants and tried to sport that look, but they never looked like that. She looked more like G.I. Jane, and not the Demi Moore version. Maybe it was his bike. Maybe a motorcycle did something to a guy, relaxed him and made him so damn Sunday perfect. His born-in-these pants were paired with a dark gray T-shirt that had the same worn and tumbled sexy look. There was some logo across it, but Kenna couldn’t read it. He was delicious, all “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed,” as her father used to say when she was in high school and perfecting her not-a-morning-person attitude.

  Paige held Travis’s hand and pulled him toward the kitchen. “Did you bring everything?’

  “I’ve got it all.” He set the bag down on the counter of their small kitchen. “Everything we need for emergency school bake sale cookies.”

  “What?” Kenna said, her voice barely awake.

  Paige curved her lips into her little “uh oh” face and froze in place. Travis looked down at Paige, then at Kenna, and back at Paige.

  “You, oh no, you . . . didn’t know I was coming over?” He shot Paige a pleading look and held out his hands in exaggeration. “Paige, you texted me that your mom needed help.”

  “She does.” Paige nodded and swung her nightgown back and forth, as if trying to up her cuteness factor.

  “I do not need help. We are perfectly capable of making cookies for a bake sale. Paige, we make cookies all the time and you’ve never needed to call in . . . reinforcements.”

  Kenna needed a Coke. She went into her bedroom, grabbed her favorite sweater off the chair, and covered the peepshow tank top she was wearing because it was bad enough he was in her house now. The last thing she needed to worry about was whether her nipples decided to show their appreciation. Again, holy smokes. She walked back into the kitchen to find Travis and Paige still standing there like kids in detention. Kenna opened the refrigerator, cracked open a Coke, and welcomed the morning caffeine.

  “You know that stuff can eat a whole steak?” Travis said.

  Brave guy, Kenna thought, but said nothing and took another sip.

  “I say that all the time to Mama. Did you see that video on YouTube? They put Coke on batteries, the ones for your car too. It ate everything off there. Coke is bisgusting.”

  “Disgusting,” Kenna and Travis corrected in concert, and just like that, the awkward became super awkward.

  “Okay. First of all, you, missy, are in big trouble. This is Travis’s only day off and I’m sure he has far better things to do with his time than drive all the way over here to make cookies. There’s a whole book of cookie recipes. We do not need a professional chef for crying out loud.”

  “I know you’re mad because you came out here without covering your boobies, but Travis didn’t see, did you?”

  Travis covered a laugh and shook his head with a grin so wide, it put the cat from Alice in Wonderland to shame. Makenna was grateful for the sweater because her entire body started to hum.

  “See,” Paige continued, “so you don�
�t need to be mad. And you’re wrong—these cookies need to be extra yummy. We need him. Sierra said her dad has a family cookie recipe.” She raised her eyebrows and paused as if she’d just revealed the most devastating news.

  “Is this that same girl with the lunches?”

  Paige nodded.

  “Honey, you can’t keep running Travis around. This is crazy.”

  She dropped her head. “She said she would sell more cookies than me, so I thought if I called My Travis, then we could show her. Didn’t mean to be mean.”

  “You’re not being mean, but Uncle Rogan is a chef too. Maybe you could ask him.”

  Paige huffed. “He’s too busy playing kissy-face, and I asked him last time and he told me he sucked at baking.”

  Travis laughed. “He really does.”

  Paige pointed at Travis. “See! So, I called My Travis.” She wrapped her arm around his leg.

  Makenna finally met Travis’s eyes. They were smiling and comfortable. She let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry about this.”

  “Don’t be. I’m happy to help, and I do happen to have a chocolate chip and pecan cookie recipe that’s going to make Sierra and her father cry.”

  Paige clapped and jumped up and down until she noticed Kenna was giving her “the look.”

  “You are still in trouble for using my phone. I’m assuming she used my phone?”

  Travis gave Paige an apologetic look and showed Kenna the text: mama and i need help with cookies bring eggs and stuff meet at our house sun at 8 ♥

  She shook her head. “When did you get this?”

  “Last night at around 10:30.”

  “Paige Eliza Conroy.”

  Travis winced in empathy for Paige. Looking at both of them, Kenna couldn’t hold up the pissed mother tone anymore and started to laugh.

  Travis reached out, and pulled something from her nest of morning hair. Kenna did her best not to be startled, but he was standing in her kitchen and her heart felt like it was ready to leap out of her chest again.

  “Feather.” He smiled, showing her the white fuzz.

  “My pillows are down.”

  “Is that so? Mine too.”

  She couldn’t look away. It was like a weird movie scene when everything around the main character goes fuzzy. Where had this connection come from? Kenna had tried, but she could not seem to find her way back to thinking of Travis as her brother’s annoying manwhore friend. He was now that man who made lunch for her daughter, had insecurities and a family of his own, and had kissed her silly in her favorite dining room . . . and she’d kissed him back.

  And if all of that wasn’t enough, now he’d woken up early on a Sunday morning to help her daughter bake cookies. Kenna’s head was swimming and her heart was still trying to escape. Travis held her gaze, and then they both heard a huff from the little person below and looked down.

  “I’ll put some music on. You two can get started, but I need to brush my teeth,” Kenna said.

  Travis clapped his hands together and made a show of removing his ingredients from the bag. “Do we need to eat breakfast first?” he asked.

  Paige stared up at her, a look of pleading in her eyes. Kenna shook her head in surrender. “Sure, let’s have breakfast. Ask your Travis to make you an omelet. He’s good at that.” He’s good at a lot of things, some sexy part of her brain said, completely oblivious to the fact that her daughter was right there. As if she’d said it out loud again, Travis crossed his arms and grinned at her.

  Kenna turned and heard him laugh before she closed her bedroom door.

  Teeth brushed, she washed her face and pulled her hair into a bun. While she was changing into jeans, she could hear giggling and clanking pans. Travis’s laughter mixed with her daughter’s, and again Kenna felt the ground shift. She touched the walls and let out a slow breath at the realization that they were still blue.

  By sunset, they had packed up the “super duper” chocolate chip and pecan cookies, as well as the double chocolate chip cookies for the kids who didn’t like nuts. Paige had taken Travis on a tour of their cool little house and he even met Popcorn, who was in his hutch in the backyard. The dishwasher hummed as the three of them lay on the couch, coming down from a sugar rush and watching Animal Planet. He’d known Makenna for a few years now, had been over to her house a couple of times with Logan, but he had never actually been part of her house, not like this. She was an incredible woman in her own right, but this home she’d created for herself and her daughter was another layer. It felt deeper than anything he’d ever experienced, even growing up as a child in his own home. They were a unit—Makenna and her daughter—and as much as Travis wanted her and loved hanging out with Paige, the magnitude of what he was potentially messing with hit him.

  “I need to get going,” he said, standing up and stretching because he hadn’t been so relaxed in years.

  Paige ran to the kitchen and brought him back a Ziploc bag packed with cookies.

  “Ugh”—Travis patted his stomach—“I’m not sure I can eat one more cookie.”

  Paige nodded and handed him the bag. “Have them for breakfast. That’s what I’m gonna do when I’m a grown-up.”

  “Eat cookies for breakfast?”

  “Yup.”

  Travis looked at Makenna, who had gotten up off the couch and wrapped her sweater around her body like she was giving herself a hug. Smiling, she shook her head at her daughter’s big plans.

  “Paige, did you thank your Travis?”

  “I did.”

  He bent to hug her, and Paige reached her arms up to pull his head closer. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you, My Travis. I will let you know if we sell more than stinky Sierra.”

  “That’s not very nice,” Makenna said while Paige released him and they turned to the door.

  “I’m going to walk Travis out to his bike. Please go into your room and get ready for tub. Make sure you don’t—”

  “Start the tub, I know, I know.” Paige huffed off to her room, making a show that she was not happy things couldn’t always be cookies and Animal Planet.

  Makenna shook her head, held her sweater tighter, and walked out the door in front of him.

  He closed it behind them, and Makenna barely got out a “thank you” before he pulled her in and kissed her. It was urgent and searching as if he’d been holding his breath all day and needed her to keep going. That’s what it felt like, his next breath. The cool evening air crept under his shirt, making him even more aware of the warmth of her body. When they eased away, she looked flushed and gorgeous under the night sky.

  “I still don’t have an explanation for what that was, so please don’t ask me.” Travis touched her face.

  “I won’t. I think it’s pretty obvious what we’re dealing with now.”

  He gave an exaggerated look at her professional investigator tone. “What do you think it is?”

  “Well, you clearly have a crush on me—you want me actually—and you’re using my daughter to get to me. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” Kenna said while he moved into her until she was pressed against her car in the driveway.

  “You have part of that right. I do have a crush on you and do want you, but I think your daughter is using me as her own personal chef.”

  She laughed and he kissed her again. When he slowly pulled back, she kept her eyes closed.

  “I’m not sure what I’m doing,” she whispered.

  “It’s just a kiss, Kenna. Please don’t freak yourself out worrying about this. Nothing has changed, your life is fine, and I won’t mess with that.”

  She opened her eyes. “How can you say that? Nothing has changed? I can’t look at you anymore without wanting to either sniff your neck or tear your clothes off. And when I’m not doing that, I’m watching you work or you’re making me laugh. Everything has changed, and what if we can’t find our way back? What is that damage going to look like?”

  He touched the side of her neck and, still holding her close, tri
ed to think of something to say that she hadn’t already put perfectly. “Okay, things have changed, but maybe we won’t have to go back. Maybe we can move this forward and different will be better.”

  “Maybe.” Kenna put her head against his chest before she turned to walk back into the house. Realizing he had nothing else to say, yet wanting to be with her for a minute more, he held onto her hand before slowly letting her fingers slip through his.

  “Goodnight, Makenna.”

  “Goodnight, My Travis.”

  After tub, Makenna dried Paige’s hair, read a quick story, and tucked her in.

  “Burrito, burrito, please,” Paige begged, bouncing on her bed.

  “I don’t have time for burrito tonight.” Makenna handed her a glass of water.

  Paige declined the water and flashed her sulking face.

  “Hey listen, missy, you’re the one who bombarded me with your Travis before I even got out of bed. After that little stunt, you should be banned from burrito and bedtime stories for like . . . a century.”

  Paige pulled the covers over her head and laughed. “A century is a super duper long time. I think dinosaurs lived that long ago.”

  Makenna laughed and took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh smell of her just-out-of-the-tub daughter, and found her patience.

  She raised one eyebrow as if surveying the bed and put her hands on her hips. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to make a burrito out of this mess,” she said in her best chef voice. “Look at this. How can I work like this?” She threw a few of Paige’s stuffed animals around the bed and fluffed her pillows as Paige giggled and rolled from side to side getting ready. Kenna went to the end of the bed and flipped the bedspread into the air. She loved the look on Paige’s face as the colorful material fluttered down over her.

  “Okay, yes, this is looking better. Now, we need to prepare.” She smoothed the bedspread dramatically and folded the top down to reveal her daughter’s smile. Her eyes were closed and she was doing her best to look like the meat in a burrito. That was the game. When Kenna had her all tucked on every side, she stood with her hands on her hips, Paige watching her from a tiny cracked eyelid.