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  Kenna’s eyes drifted. Were those new jeans?

  “Trix?” Sage asked.

  Travis grabbed an apron and said nothing.

  “That’s like a stripper name.” Sage wasn’t letting up, and Travis grinned.

  “Oh wow, you date strippers? You’re that guy?”

  At this, he laughed and tied the apron at his waist. “No, I don’t date strippers. Her name is Trixie, but she’s a loan officer at JP Morgan. Her parents were a little . . . eccentric.”

  “I see.”

  Travis went to the sink and washed his hands.

  Big hands. When did he get the leather bracelet? Kenna wondered. Huh, his beard had more red in it when it was grown out. You’re staring, Kenna. Cut it out before—

  “How’s it going, Ken?”

  She pulled her eyes off him and looked at Sage, who seemed confused. Damn it.

  “See something you like?” He waggled his brows at her. She and Travis had a way of bantering that was usually harmless, but that was before her mind had conjured him up standing shirtless in her kitchen and making her daughter breakfast.

  Her face flushed. What the hell is wrong with you? Fix this, Kenna.

  She rolled her eyes. “You have something on your jeans.” She pointed and then quickly turned before he figured out there was nothing there. Kenna pushed through the back kitchen doors and stepped into the bar. She needed her details, the ones she’d been so excited about before Travis arrived wearing that blue Triumph T-shirt. She suddenly noticed how it stretched across his chest.

  Her heart was pounding as she grabbed the cool, glossy wooden edge of the bar for balance.

  “What just happened?” Sage asked, walking through the door behind her.

  “Nothing. I need a Coke.”

  “Coming right up. Maybe I should make that a double, because you were most definitely looking at Travis like you wanted to eat him.”

  “I was not.”

  “You were. There wasn’t anything on those jeans. You were scoping his ass.”

  “I was thinking about something and he happened to walk into my line of sight.”

  “That’s the story you’re going with? You were fixed on him like you were seeing him for the first—”

  Makenna could see the moment Sage put two and two together. “Wait, oh God.” She pushed the Coke across the bar and then one hand went to her mouth. “That’s what was different? Was he . . . it was him, in the dream?”

  Makenna closed her eyes and continued sucking Coke into her bloodstream.

  Sage leaned on the bar. “Huh, well . . . that’s weird.”

  Kenna nodded.

  “I mean, it doesn’t mean anything. You’ve just been working too much and he’s always here.”

  Kenna kept nodding.

  “It’s nothing, honey. Just chalk it up to lack of sleep—or stress. Travis is . . . well, he’s super yummy.”

  “Not helping.”

  “But, he’s Travis. You’re not into—”

  “Hey, did Garrett deliver the artichokes yet?” Travis asked, pushing through the door.

  Both women looked at him, Kenna still hooked up, via the straw, to her Coke. They said nothing.

  “What the hell is with you two today? Is it Trixie?” He dropped onto the stool next to Makenna. His leg touched hers, and she called on every ounce of self-control to keep from pulling away from him like he was a live wire.

  “Because I’ll have you both know that was not my fault.”

  Sage rolled her eyes and Kenna scooted over, hoping she wasn’t being obvious.

  “We do not care, nor do we want the sordid details of your stripper escapades,” Sage said in her best elitist voice. It was the one she saved for obnoxious bar patrons, drunk or otherwise.

  “She’s not a stripper,” Travis said just under a laugh before he leaned over the counter for a mug and held it out to Sage for coffee.

  Kenna stared at the bar because that seemed the only safe place for her eyes at the moment.

  “Well, either way, no one cares, right Kenna?” Sage prompted her.

  “Right,” Kenna said, desperately trying to find her mental balance. This was nuts. It was a stupid dream. Granted, it was the dream, the one she’d been having for the past five years since her husband died. The one that had never changed and had always been the same until last night, but that didn’t matter. It was still just a dream. Pull it together, Kenna. “Right,” she said again as if trying to convince herself. She finally looked at Travis. His eyes danced with things Kenna was in no mood to tackle. “Garrett will be here in”—she looked at the clock over the bar—“fifteen minutes with the artichokes. What are you doing with them so I can put it on the specials board?”

  Travis’s look said he was still trying to figure her out, but he eventually said, “Just roasting them. Garlic, olive oil, and probably a little lemon.”

  Kenna nodded and picked up her Coke off the bar. “Sounds good.” She unplugged her laptop and decided to move to the private dining room.

  Travis reached out and touched her arm as he’d done a million times before, but this time, a flood of warmth coursed through her body and her heart felt like it was making its way outside her chest. This must be what an anxiety attack feels like, she thought, closing her eyes and trying to redirect her mind. That’s when she saw Adam’s face, as clear as the morning they moved into their first apartment. Her eyes sprang open and she pulled away from Travis, no longer caring if she looked crazy because all signs now pointed to completely nuts. Something was happening and Kenna knew only one thing with certainty: she wasn’t ready.

  “Ken, are you all right?”

  She stared at him for a beat past comfortable and bowed her head before she started to cry. “Fine.” She clutched her laptop and quickly moved to the dining room.

  Logan arrived a few minutes later with stupid in love all over his face. That made the third morning in a row Logan Rye, chronic overachiever, was late, and Travis couldn’t have been happier for his friend. Just a few months ago, he was practically living at The Yard. Just as Travis was really starting to worry about him, a distraction in the form of Kara Malendar wound him up and took him under. The guy was so in love—it emanated from him. He hummed and took long lunches at the bar when Kara came to visit. They were getting married next year, but Kara’s brother Grady was first. His wedding was in four months. It would be The Yard’s first catering job, which was both exciting and nerve-racking. Travis and Logan were working on a tasting menu that included a new sea bass entrée they’d put together. They would work up two or three other choices, and whatever Grady and Kate went with would be incredible. He’d make sure of it. Kara was going to be in her brother’s wedding, so Logan needed to attend as a guest. That meant the day of the wedding was all his. He lived for this stuff. The heat, the pace; he thrived on it.

  “Morning,” Logan said.

  “Morning. Squash is done and Garrett should be here any minute with the artichokes.”

  “Yeah, he pulled in behind me. Suppose I should have helped him.” Logan threw some things on his desk and washed his hands.

  “Hey, do you have any idea what’s up with Ken?” Travis asked.

  Garrett barreled through the door holding three stacked cardboard crates. “Quit calling her Ken. That’s my name for her and now, since you annoy the crap out of her, it’s tainted. Yeah, thanks for the help, asshole.” He glared at Logan and walked back out the door.

  “I just washed my hands,” Logan said, holding up his hands and laughing. “No idea what’s wrong. I haven’t talked to her this morning,” he said back to Travis. “Why do you think something’s wrong?” Logan picked up one of the chokes and turned it in his hands like a patron at a farmers market.

  “I don’t know. She was talking with Sage when I got here and I was on my phone dealing with Trixie—”

  “Hold up, Trixie? I’d remember that name if you’d mentioned her before.”

  “Chase loan officer, c
ried after sex. You’ve heard of her, I just never shared her name because I was trying to avoid that smirk right there.” Travis pointed at him. “Anyway, it’s not important. I was on the phone when I got here and when I turned back to them, Kenna was . . . hell, there’s no other way to say it, she was checking me out.”

  “You wish.” Garrett returned with two more boxes.

  “No, I swear to God. Sage even noticed and tried to cover for her. Then, I’m out in the bar talking to them. She’s super quiet and suddenly looks like she’s gonna cry.”

  Garrett and Logan exchanged glances, and Travis could tell they were probably having a whole conversation without words, something they did often.

  “Do you think . . . I guess we should tell him?” Garrett said, grabbing two paper towels to dry his hands.

  Logan shook his head. “Well, since she’s looking at him, she’s probably considering him, right? The crying is probably the hormones.”

  “Tell me what?” Travis felt his heart rate kick up a notch, which was weird, but they were so serious, he wasn’t sure what to expect.

  “Well, you see, Trav,”—Garrett put an arm around him, almost a choke hold, but not quite—“the reason Ken’s looking at you is. . . there’s no easy way to say this.” He looked to Logan, who nodded for him to get it out. “She’s been wanting to have another baby.”

  “What?”

  “Yup. You know, a friend for Paige. She’s planning on raising it herself, but she’s been talking to us about donors, and I’m . . . well, we’re guessing that’s why she’s checking you out.”

  “For your sperm,” Logan said, raising his eyebrows.

  “Shut the hell up.” Travis searched for a sign they were dicking with him, but both men were expressionless. “Jesus, this doesn’t seem like her. When did she decide she wanted a baby daddy?”

  “A couple of minutes ago.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah, a couple of minutes ago. That’s right about the time we decided to screw with your stupid ass.”

  Both men collapsed against each other in laughter. Travis shook his head and tried not to join them. Baby daddy, that was a good one.

  “Oh man, the look on your face,” Logan said, leaning forward and brushing the top of his head in a teasing brotherly gesture.

  “Fine. Well played. You got me. Assholes. Now, go away. I’ve got work to do.”

  Garrett was still laughing.

  “Hey, be sure to tell Kenna this story, will ya?” Travis said, shaking his head and choosing a knife.

  “Believe me, we will.” Garrett fist bumped his brother and left out the back door.

  Travis nodded, resigned to the upcoming embarrassment.

  “He won’t tell her,” Logan said, turning to prep the chokes.

  “But you will, right?”

  “Damn straight.” He broke out laughing all over again.

  Travis decided there was no point in continuing to feed the fire.

  He began prep work. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why, for a few seconds there, if Kenna had wanted him, he would have . . . shit. They were screwing with him and he was dumb enough to fall for it. That was all it was.

  Chapter Three

  The Yard’s private dining room was Makenna’s favorite space. It sat catty-corner to the kitchen, and the long table was a repurposed turquoise-painted barn door. When they were first transforming The Yard from a hardware store and lumberyard into a restaurant, she’d asked one of the contractors what they could do with the door. The original paint had been peeling and chipping, but the color was great and Logan agreed it needed a place in the restaurant. The guy who installed the kitchen storage cabinets took it back to his shop, sanded off some of the falling paint flakes, and sealed the whole thing. He also brought in a huge tree trunk he’d been saving for a future project; it now acted as the table’s base.

  Kenna had handpicked all ten of the mismatched chairs surrounding the table and frequently moved them around. The best one, in her opinion, was a high-back purple velvet-and-white wooden armchair, currently positioned at the head of the table. She liked moving furniture, any furniture, when she had important things to consider or when she was stressed and couldn’t sleep. Garrett once said she should just put everything on wheels.

  When she occupied the corner bar table, Kenna felt plugged into the buzz of the restaurant. It was where she monitored the heart of her brother’s place, but the dining room was where she went to get work done and to focus. It often seemed like she was tucked away, hiding, although she was most definitely not hiding. She was simply removing distractions so she could concentrate on her work.

  It was Friday, mid-lunch rush, and it turned out she did have a meeting with Logan to discuss getting a new air conditioner before next summer and some new spice vendor he wanted to start using. The meeting had cut into her day, and now she had more things on her to-do list than she could possibly complete in the four hours before picking Paige up from school, but she was going to give it her best shot.

  After Kenna finished the kitchen and server schedule for the coming week and emailed it to Logan for approval, she pulled her headphones out and rested her head back on the chair. The gorgeous multicolored glass fixture created by her brother’s fiancée, Kara, glistened above. There was never a lot of natural light in the dining room even in the daytime, so the fixture was usually on. Kenna still marveled at the glass pieces, each of them different but soldered together to somehow form one unique display. It was an incredible piece of art that cast beautiful jewels of light down on the table.

  Kara used to be a food critic for the LA Times, but now she had a little studio in downtown Pasadena where she worked on her glass lamps full-time. Makenna had started loving her because she made her brother happy, but now she found she loved her in her own right. Their family gained another person, a woman, which thrilled Paige. The last time Kara had come over for dinner, they’d played Pictionary, and Kara’s face beamed when Paige asked to be her partner. The two of them proceeded to beat the pants off the rest of the family. That may have been when Makenna knew her brother had picked a good one. Paige was a great judge of character: if she liked someone, it was always a good sign.

  Kenna brought up QuickBooks on her computer, clicked on the Taxes section, and sent in the tax payment for her last payroll. Pushing her computer back on the table, she set a stack of applications in front of her. They needed to hire three more servers. She would do the initial interviews before handing the best potentials over to Logan for finals. Kenna made notes, put a star on the ones she would call, and asked her brain one more time to stop thinking about what her dream meant.

  She’d gone over it dozens of times and decided that it meant she needed to date. For a few months now, she had thought about “getting out among ’em” as her father would say, but if she was honest with herself, she was nervous, maybe even a little scared. She hadn’t been on a date since her freshman year in college, hadn’t been . . . intimate with a man since Adam. She’d been busy raising a little person and honestly had no interest in bringing anyone else into her life until a few months ago. She’d been sitting at a Rye family meeting and watching her father. He had been alone for as long as she could remember, and she wondered if he was ever lonely . . . if he ever wanted someone, even just to watch a movie with on Sunday nights after the busy week was over. It led her to think about her own life. She realized she didn’t want to be alone forever. She had no idea to what extent she’d allow another person into her life—into their life—she only knew it was time to try. But, every time Kenna started thinking about dating in detail or tried to flirt, she found herself overwhelmed or embarrassed, and the urge passed.

  Then she had the dream. Her mind had one opportunity to cast a new man in her life, and when it searched her dream database for a man other than Adam, all it came up with was Travis.

  There was only one explanation: her mind simply didn’t have enough data to pull from because there was
no way Travis McNulty, Mr. Hookup and Bail, fit anywhere in her world. He didn’t belong in her kitchen, shirt or no shirt, warm, hot smile, morning look or not . . . Cut it out!

  Dating, it was time to start dating. She would talk to Sage.

  Travis noticed Kenna leave around three, just after the late-lunch rush. She’d quickly waved to Logan before leaving out the back, but didn’t wave to him. He knew it sounded juvenile, but she usually, at least, tossed her hand in a good-bye. This time, nothing.

  Something was up. He wasn’t sure what he’d done, but she was definitely acting weird. She’d even popped back around seven with her daughter in tow because Paige wanted to show her “Uncle Rogan” the new backpack they’d bought. Paige came into the kitchen to say hello to him and twirl around in her new pack, but Kenna called her to come up front without so much as a glance in his direction. Thinking she might be pissed at him, he found himself moving to the pizza counter to shave his fennel so he could eavesdrop. Pathetic? Probably, but the cold shoulder, her cold shoulder, was driving him batshit.

  Travis used to find it interesting that his body responded every time he heard Kenna’s name or her voice, but they’d known each other for years now and he’d simply accepted it. He probably had a little thing for her, but that was never going to happen. Women like Makenna were complicated enough; she’d also lost her husband a little over five years ago and seemed to be doing great raising her daughter on her own. A guy just didn’t play with that kind of woman, at least, he didn’t. So instead, he enjoyed her from his place and every now and then helped out in his own way. There was no harm in looking. That was, until she looked back and started messing with his clearly established boundaries.

  “We’ve got three tables about ready to leave and two pizza orders up—actually four because two takeouts just called in.” Logan walked back from the front and went into the walk-in. “I feel pretty good about bringing Todd back.” He returned with a handful of arugula. “He’s sticking with the promise to only wear one earphone and a belt. I think he’s grown up since you fired him and he’s only burned two things tonight. Progress.”