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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, tried 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.

“What do I want to put on this burrito?”

“Cheese,” came a little voice.

“Yes! Lots of cheese.” Kenna then pretended to sprinkle shredded cheese down Paige’s body, being sure to tickle her along the way. “That looks perfect. Now let’s add some salsa.”

Paige squealed but tried to hold still as the game progressed. They added a few more things, including guacamole, Paige’s favorite, and then with as much dramatic flair as she could muster, Kenna did a gobble, gobble, kiss, tickle that would have made Cookie Monster proud. Paige laughed herself exhausted and then, with a big sigh, wrapped her little arms around Kenna’s neck.

“That was a good burrito.” She kissed Kenna’s cheek.

“It sure was.”

“See, aren’t you glad you didn’t stay grumpy and miss out?”

“I am, Peach, I am.” She kissed her daughter on her nose and clicked off the daisy lamp on her nightstand.

“Mama?”

“Huh.” Makenna picked up her towel off the floor.

“You like My Travis, I can tell.”

Makenna was so grateful she’d already turned off the light so her daughter couldn’t see the shock. It was hard to believe she was only going to be six next month.

“Of course I like your Travis. He’s Uncle Rogan’s best friend and I work with him. He’s a nice man.”

“No, I mean you
like
like him. You want to hold his hand and play kissy-face with him.” Paige was now hugging herself and rolling back and forth in her bed, giggling.

Makenna picked up one of her pillows and gently hit her daughter on the head. “You are silly. There will be no kissy-face. Now go to sleep, silly pants.”

“Night, Mama.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“You too.”

Makenna walked out of her daughter’s room, closed the door to just a crack, and leaned up against the wall of their small hallway. It was true, she did want to play kissy-face with Travis and hold his hand. Kenna had always thought bringing a man into their world would be work, but Travis was sort of always there. He’d snuck up on her, and now she wasn’t sure she wanted him to leave. At the same time, she knew Travis and couldn’t help but wonder if this was another phase of his, sort of like scuba diving or when he decided he wanted to hike all seven peaks. She would like to think he would never involve himself if he wasn’t willing to stick around, but it all felt too easy. As her father had said a million times when they were growing up, “Nothing worth having is easy.”

Chapter Eighteen

“I
s that a Ring Pop?” Travis asked the following Thursday morning as they gathered to discuss the Malendar wedding, which was now less than three weeks away.

“Sure is.” Kenna sucked it between her lips, then licked her bottom lip and wrinkled her nose.

Travis was finding it next to impossible to maintain a professional working relationship with Makenna sucking on a bright red Ring Pop, but just as he was about to suggest they share, Logan saved the day with his professional purpose.

“Okay, Kenna spoke with Twisted Tree and they’re all set to provide the wine.” Logan flipped to a page on his yellow pad and sat next to both of them at the corner table of the bar.

Travis looked at Makenna when she shifted and her leg bumped his. Her face was in her laptop, but he could have sworn she was doing all of this on purpose. She sucked the Ring Pop again.

“We are doing the roasted vegetables with a choice of the sea bass or the filet?” Logan looked to Travis for confirmation.

“No, the ham, remember?” Travis said, finally moving his eyes off the Ring Pop.

“Right, and the smashed potatoes. I spoke with Lacey about the ham and she’s all set to deliver. They’ll smoke them, too.”

Travis nodded, and Makenna scrolled through the menu on her laptop.

“I’m a little bummed they didn’t pick the wild mushroom confit because that word looked great on the menu,” she said.

Logan shook his head. “Kate doesn’t like mushrooms.”

“Oh, well, that explains it.” Makenna had the nerve to look relaxed. He was now the one with the racing heart and crazy eyes.
Damn, how long do Ring Pops last?

“Okay, so cheeses—goat, some kind of double crème, the Comté, and”—Logan flipped the page—“and a blue, probably that bold one from Jordan’s shop.”

“Is the Comté the one that tastes like it was dipped in toilet water?” Makenna scrunched her face as if she could smell it.

Add playful,
Travis thought. She was downright playful.

“No.” Logan was not amused and moved on. “Warm bread, those seeded crackers we made for Restaurant Week, some roasted grapes, and maybe like an apricot spread?”

“Fig,” Travis said, eyes still on Makenna.

Logan nodded and made notes. “Okay, that’s it for now. Did you order the flax linens and email the invoice to—what’s her name again?”

“Sloan,” Makenna added, finally looking up from her laptop.

“That’s really a perfect name for her. She came in yesterday to ‘observe’ and she’s very wedding planner-ish, don’t you think?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, not the Jennifer Lopez movie version, more like
The Devil Wears Prada
Meryl Streep version, if she were a wedding planner instead of a magazine editor.”

Logan nodded, and Travis sat there enjoying watching the two of them play off one another. There was a rhythm to their relationship that worked well professionally and connected them personally. Logan always seemed to know where Makenna was at with just one look, and she had a way of getting into his head better than anyone. They were siblings, but not in any way that was familiar to Travis. The connection was enviable and probably the result of years of caring and hard work. He felt a longing but let it go. As much as he had enjoyed kissing and would probably continue kissing Makenna, he had little experience with that kind of connection.

“Did you get that, Travis?” Logan asked.

Travis tried to search his mind for what had been said while he was thinking about things that had nothing to do with work or weddings, but he drew a blank.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“The cheese, I ordered it and they’ll deliver two days before the wedding. I want to make sure it doesn’t end up in the refrigerator.”

“Oh yeah, room temperature. That’s a given.”

He glanced up and Logan shook his head at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just fun watching you figure things out. Strawberries or no strawberries.” Logan laughed, tore off a piece of paper from his pad, and handed it to Kenna. He turned to leave and then turned back.

“Oh, I almost forgot. They’re using Grady’s Nana’s Depression glass for nonalcoholic drinks and Kate’s grandmother’s red punch bowl. Both have sentimental value, not to mention they’re probably worth a fortune, so Grady wants us handling those as part of food. He’s having someone drop them off next week.”

Makenna added it to her list, closed her laptop, and the dueling Rye family cyclones left Travis sitting at the table, wondering whether Ring Pops came in strawberry.

Makenna picked Paige up at school and drove her up to the farm for the night, as agreed. One of the goats, or does, as Paige kept correcting her, was going to have her babies soon. Makenna had spoken with her father, who was thrilled at the prospect of having sleepovers with his granddaughter until the big day. Donk, as Paige called him, agreed to drop her off at school in the mornings. They were on day one of goat watch, and Makenna was hoping it didn’t take Gracie too long to have her babies.

With the evening free, she arrived back at work right in time to see Vinnie.

“Vinnie is at table six. This time with a new redhead,” Makenna whispered through the service window about twenty minutes after arriving.

“Has she gone to the bathroom yet?” Travis asked, still tossing the Brussels sprouts in his pan.

“Not yet, but they’re halfway through the main course, so it should be any minute now.”

“Let us know when the show starts,” Logan said as he added chicken to a spinach salad and put it up in the window.

Vincent Pastorelli, as he always introduced himself, was one of their first regulars. He’d divorced three wives and had more money than any of them would ever see. He came in for dinner every Thursday night, in some version of his Adidas tracksuit, white socks, and brown dress shoes. His hair was black with the help of Grecian Formula. He had a tan—its origin was the subject of much debate among the pizza guys. Some thought it was natural; some swore it came from a bottle. Vinnie was a nice man, a horrible tipper, and a character. He always had a date for dinner and she was usually much younger. There were a few repeat dates, but most of the time he had a different woman each week. Makenna was sure he must use a dating service—probably online, she thought as she rolled silverware and waited for the show. It wasn’t lost on her that Vinnie seemed to be more skilled at dating than she would ever be.

“Showtime,” she said quietly through the service window. The pizza guys were already exchanging bets. The wager was always the same—whether or not Vinnie would finish out the evening once his date returned from the bathroom or if he would stand, make some excuse, and leave. Either way, every time his date went to the restroom, and for some reason they always did, Vinnie would begin having an entire conversation with himself. It was full of hand gestures and strange facial expressions and sounded like a critique of his date. Vinnie was entertaining to watch, although the first time it happened, one of the servers thought he was having some kind of seizure. It wasn’t until she moved closer that she realized it was a highly animated conversation for one.