Reserved (11 page)

Makenna just shook her head and returned to her laptop. “See, you’re incapable of being normal.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Travis laughed and Makenna made a point of not meeting his eyes because they were pretty incredible when he laughed. She didn’t need incredible Travis right now when she was trying desperately to focus on anything but him.

“Seriously, though, this is news. So you’re . . . on the market now?”

“Wow, what an evolved and sensitive way to put it, Travis.”

“What? I could have said, ‘So, I hear your rack shack is open for business.’”

Kenna felt a laugh bubbling up now, but she clamped down on that quickly because laughing at Travis was a guilty pleasure. The man was funny, but it was wrong to laugh at him. Every fiber of her female self told her not to entertain his knuckle-dragging humor.

“I stand corrected. That is, in fact, worse.”

Travis nodded. “See? So, you’re dating. Is this all part of your plan to—how did you put it again—‘expand your horizons’? You know, so I’m not the only guy you dream about.”

She shot him a warning look, but his smile was wicked and sexy. She couldn’t be sure, but he seemed different, more playful maybe?

“Yes, I’m looking into dating.”

He laughed. “Only you, Ken, could make something as simple as dating seem like it has multiple parts and requires a manual.”

“First of all, there is nothing simple about dating. I mean, just the thought of it makes my hands sweat. And . . . I have a complicated life. I have history and Paige and . . . Oh God, why am I even bothering to share this with you?”

“Because I asked and you know I’ll be honest with you.”

Kenna gave him a questioning look.

“It’s true. You may not always like what comes out of my mouth, but I’m usually honest. For example, I’m sure this is tough for you. I get that you have history. I’m not meaning to minimize that, but at the same time, I’m sure you get the ‘Oh honey, do you miss your husband?’ stuff all the time. I’m sad you lost him, but I think it’s great you are, er, ‘looking into’ dating again.”

That was pretty close to what she was thinking. She wasn’t looking forward to the looks when she explained she was a widow or explaining herself at all for that matter. Dating seemed like tons of marketing, and Kenna was beginning to think she wasn’t up for it at all.

As Travis looked at her, his eyes softened. “So, what’s your plan?”

Kenna opened her laptop. “I’m trying to go through some of these profiles.”

“Wait, you’re online dating?”

“Yeah.” She rolled her mouse and clicked on another profile.

Travis leaned in.
Holy smokes, is that cologne or his soap?
Whatever it was, her body woke up.

“Are you kidding me? Match.com? Ken, this isn’t for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I just, Match is for people with . . . experience. You haven’t dated for years. Why don’t you ease into it, date some people in your life or friends of friends, you know?”

“No, I don’t know. I don’t want to date someone from work and I thought, well—experience? That’s ridiculous. There are people on here who are recently divorced. Hopefully they’ve been out of practice too. I’m being very selective. Like, look at this guy.” She turned the laptop to him. “Clayton, he’s thirty-five and there are a few great pictures of him hiking.”

“His name is Clayton? No, that’s not a good one.”

“Why?”

“Well, that name for one, and you don’t hike.”

“I know. Well, I have hiked, I just don’t take the time now. I was thinking that’s something he could bring to the table.”

“Eh, I don’t think it’s a good idea to try and change who you are when you start out. What does he do?”

“Well, it says here”—she scrolled down—“he works in marketing and he has a dog. She’s a labradoodle and her name is Sadie. She’s in his profile picture.”

Travis said nothing.

“What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just fell asleep. Are you serious? Clayton from marketing and his super special puppy? This is what you’re coming out of the gate with?”

“He seems nice. All I’m really looking for is nice.”

“What’s the endgame here, Ken? Sex? Marriage? Dog park membership?”

She smacked his shoulder.
Don’t touch. What’s wrong with you?

“I have no idea what I’m looking for. I just think it’s time I got out there. I’m thirty, and sure, sex would be good. I . . . I don’t know. Forget it.”

Travis looked at her, puppy dog eyes again.

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“You’re giving me the Dead Husband Look again. Cut it out.”

Travis laughed and ran his hand over his face as if erasing the look. “Sorry. I would never intentionally give you that look.” He stood. “Listen, you do what you need to do. I’m sure Clarence—”

“Clayton.”

“Yeah, whatever, I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

“You’re being a smart-ass.”

“Probably.” He patted her on the shoulder, and she felt the warmth of his hand through her sweater. Damn, that dream had messed her up.

“Hey.”

Travis turned back.

“Do you use Match.com?”

Travis gave her a smile that felt more intimate than she’d ever experienced before with him. Maybe it was because she was asking a personal question, which she often avoided with him because she assumed his personal was X-rated, but the smile he was giving her now was super close to deadly.

“Only when the dating pool gets shallow, Ken.” He turned and walked back to the kitchen.

“How often does that happen?” she yelled, hoping to catch him before he pushed through the doors.

“Let’s just say it’s been a while.”

She heard the kitchen doors swing closed and took a sip of her Coke. She’d bet it had been a long while. He was probably never without a date or whatever else he wanted.

Travis met Logan at the Grand Central Market so they could do their usual tour through Valeria’s for dried chilies, pine nuts, and some salted cod for the light stew they were featuring on the summer-spring menu. They would probably spend the morning hitting the rest of the vendors too before ending with La Tostadaria, which had the best tostadas they’d ever tasted.

Travis had made countless dishes over the years and because of it, he’d grown and learned what he was good at. He knew he could create good food. He had a natural sense of what went together and was brave enough to risk those flavors that went right to the edge. Despite all of that knowledge, he also knew his limits. Many would say that’s what made him a good chef, knowing how far to push. The title of chef encompassed many different varieties, which amazed him. It wasn’t just an apron or a white hat; chefs came in all different shapes and sizes. He finished up his morning coffee, threw the cup away, and watched Logan load up on chilies and negotiate a bulk order for half a dozen kinds of lentils. The construction on The Yard’s new dry-storage pantry would be done next week, and his friend was clearly having a good time stocking up.

“How’d it go?” Travis asked when Logan joined him, checking off things on his list.

“Good. They’ll deliver next week. I got the salt cod and they had black-eyed peas.”

Travis nodded, knowing exactly where he was going.

“I was thinking we could do that cold bean salad we talked about last summer.” Logan looked up from his list.

“Good idea. That and the gazpacho should round out the summer menu.”

“Done,” they both said.

Logan folded the pieces of his yellow pad and put them in the back pocket of his jeans. “Time for tostadas?”

“Always time. Lead the way.”

“Kenna’s dating.” Logan looked back at him.

Travis looked over his own shoulder and then around in a mocking “where the hell did that come from?” gesture. “I know.”

Logan kept walking. “Any thoughts on that?”

“On Kenna dating? Um, no. She’s been alone for a long time. Lots of people date. I date and no one makes a big deal out of it.”

“I thought we already established that what you do is not dating.”

“I took a woman out last night, and I’ll have you know that I woke up alone this morning.”

“What? Did she have to get to work early?”

“I may have mentioned that I had an early day.”

Logan shook his head and ordered their usual, ceviche and Peruvian octopus, while Travis found two seats along the counter.

“I’m just saying”—Logan put the tray down, followed by a stack of napkins and two beers—“she seems like she’s ready and there’s no way she’s going to find someone online. Not Kenna. She’s too . . .”

“Kenna?”

Logan laughed, took a bite of his tostada, and washed it down with a sip of beer.

“I think you have a thing for her, or the beginnings of a thing.”

“I do not have a thing.” Well, maybe he had something, but he was doing a great job ignoring that because Makenna was not for him.

“Yeah, you do. What’s the holdup? Is it Paige?”

“I love Paige.” He tried not to sound offended, but just the idea that Logan would think he didn’t want Makenna’s daughter in his life was insulting.

“See! You see that response? You feel that way for Kenna too, but you transfer all of it onto Paige.”

“That sounds creepy. Why don’t you go ahead and clarify what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Sure. You care about Makenna, but for some reason I haven’t quite figured out, you don’t do anything. You’re not shy, that’s for sure. I think it goes back to your mess with Avery or your family or both.” Logan took another bite and while he was still chewing, he said, “I’m guessing it’s something about not being good enough or not wanting to be like your parents crap. Am I right?”

“Holy shit, is this like an intervention? I thought we were just stocking up and eating. If I’d known we were going to dissect my life, I would have showered.”

“That’s not going to work.” Logan wiped his hands and took another pull of his beer. “You’ve been avoiding this.”

“It has nothing to do with Avery. I don’t even think about . . . that, whatever the hell that was, anymore. As far as not wanting to be my parents, I’m thinking that’s a given. Does anyone want to be their parents?”

Logan shook his head and said nothing. Travis knew he was waiting him out, hoping he’d talk more.
Shit!

“Why are you bringing this up?” He could feel his chest tighten at the mention of his ex. He should probably start calling her his sister-in-law, but it still felt reality TV-level screwed up. In fact, his whole family situation was a screwup he was never interested in dissecting.

“Because you’re holding back. You can only roll on and off so many women, man.”

“Oh God, it’s finally happened. You’re all warm and fuzzy with Kara and now you think the rest of us are just sad fuck monkeys.” Travis slowly shook his head back and forth. “Thank you, steady, boring, settled guy, but I’m fine.”

“You do have a thing for her, though.”

Travis laughed him off, finished his beer, and stood, giving up their counter space to a waiting couple. They walked out of the market in silence. When they got to Logan’s truck, his friend gave it one more shot.

“Fine, forget your past heartbreak.”

“It was not heartbreak.”

Logan wrinkled his brow.

“Maybe it was, but it was more like heart stomping or like a chewed-up-and-spit-out heart. Break makes me sound weak, like some pussy who was dumped by his high school sweetheart once she realized he was never going play college ball. I’m not that guy, so let’s call it my heart chewing—that’s got a better ring.”

Logan laughed and started the truck.

“Okay, I’ve sort of forgotten what the hell we were even talking about.”

Travis was silent. He sure as hell wasn’t going to remind him.

“Oh, right, you being into Kenna. She’s ready to date and you’ve had this weird energy thing with her for a while. You wanna talk about that?”

“No.”

Logan sighed.

“Why would anyone want me near their sister?” Travis asked.

“Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. You make her daughter lunch. You’re coming out of this phase. I can see it even if you can’t.”

“Phase? What phase is that?” he asked when they pulled into The Yard’s parking lot.

“I like to call it the ‘oh poor me’ phase.” Logan smiled as he loaded up their hands with bags.

“Huh, so it’s sort of like the phase you were in before Kara decided to rescue your sad ass.”

Logan appeared to think about that last comment and then said, “Sure, that phase. Your sad ass is next, my friend.”

Chapter Ten

M
akenna got out of her Jeep on Friday night and immediately felt overdressed, which was odd because she usually felt just the opposite. Her heels sank into the gravel of the parking lot of Rock Brewery. Kenna put her weight onto her toes in an effort to keep from ruining her only decent pair of black pumps. It was a beautiful night. Sage had blown out her hair and she wore a silk blouse. The material felt wonderful on her skin, and Kenna tried to breathe past the shallow gasps that had started as she parked the car. She could do this; it was just a date. The familiar sound of football spilled from the televisions lighting up the night sky around the restaurant. She made her way to the concrete walkway and through the front door.