The Second Chance Café (Hope Springs, #1) (15 page)

Ah, but he was wrong. “Are you kidding? I love the permits. They mean we’re really moving forward.”

“You thought I was kidding about making that happen?”

She heard the frown in his question and looked over. “You’re not the one I doubted.”

His frown deepened, and he crossed his arms as he looked at her. “Why would you doubt yourself?”

“Doubt’s probably not the right word,” she said, heading for the coffeepot and her empty mug. “It’s more that I didn’t believe everything would fall into place.”

“You knew what you wanted. You made plans and followed through. That’s how dreams become reality.”

“I’ve never been much of a dreamer. I’ve had to be practical.” She filled her mug, asked with a lift of the pot if he wanted any.

He raised a hand, shook his head. “I’m pretty sure you can be both.”

“Is that how you got to where you are?” she asked, stirring in sweetener and cream. “Being a practical dreamer?”

“My case was more about having decided early on what I wanted,” he said, coming closer and boosting up onto one of the bar stools at the island. “So I guess I was a practical planner. And then just practical when my original plans fell through.”

“Really? What happened?” she asked, holding her mug in both hands and bringing it to her mouth.

“Keller Construction was supposed to be Keller Brothers Construction. But Dakota, my brother, his life took an unexpected turn and I ended up going it alone.” He picked up the pen she’d left with her legal pad, clicked it on, clicked it off. “It worked out, so I can’t complain, but I know some of what you’re going through. Wanting something. Planning for it.”

He had a brother and he had a sister, but he wasn’t close to or in touch with either. Who was Tennessee Keller? What had happened in his life to alienate him from those
he should love? And why did it surprise her that his background wasn’t any more all-American than hers?

Strange that she’d made up her mind that such was the case before getting to know him at all. “I’ve thought about that. What I’ll do if Two Owls isn’t the success I’m hoping for.”

“And?”

“Most likely I’d go back into the bakery business. I know it, and even when things are tough people want desserts. There are still weddings and holidays and office birthday parties. Plus, between working for Saul and for myself, I made a lot of contacts. I could almost pick up where I left off.”

“Where would you go?”

Go? “Nowhere. This is home.”

“I’m not sure Hope Springs can support another bakery.”

She hadn’t yet visited Butters Bakery, but loved the irony in their slogan:
Heavy on the Butt
. She needed to go by and introduce herself, start off on the right foot. Not leave Peggy Butters to wonder if she was here to put her out of business.

She wasn’t. Not at all. “Then I’ll wash dishes for Max Malina. Or flip burgers at one of the fast-food joints on the interstate. Or see if Peggy Butters might want a partner. I intend to take my last breath in this house.”

He gave her a wry grin. “And you don’t think you’re a dreamer.”

“That’s not a dream.”

“So if I want it, I’ll have to pry this house out of your cold, dead hands.”

“Something like that,” she said with a laugh. Then what he’d said registered. “Do you want this house?”

“I did some work for the Colemans and pretty much fell in love with it. Told Bob to let me know if he ever decided to sell and I’d see about taking it off his hands. Either he forgot or didn’t think I was serious.”

“But you were.”

“Yeah. It’s a good house.”

“I’m sorry. Well, I’m not sorry you didn’t get it, but I am sorry for your disappointment. Though I have a feeling mine would’ve been worse.”

“Red cowboy boots. A sparkly pink plush puppy.”

She couldn’t believe her middle-of-the-night confession of what this house meant to her had stuck with him. “You remembered.”

“I pay attention. And, yes, sometimes I jump to conclusions. I’m working on that,” he said, his smile a devastating revelation of dimples. “Thanks to you.”

Her skin heated, her throat, her chest, the palms of her hands, and she blamed the coffee in her mug. “You’re welcome. Though it wasn’t my intent to change you.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“Of course not.” She thought back to their conversation earlier in the week. “I only wanted you to give Mitch a chance, rather than assume he was going to take advantage of me.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? That’s why you were so suspicious of him. Or maybe wary is a better word.”

“No, suspicious is fine. I’ve got this…thing about looking out for people I care for. I didn’t pay attention one time when I should have, and things for my family went south. I’ve tried to make up for it since, and I go overboard sometimes.”

“Does that mean you care about me?” she asked, wishing as the words left her mouth that she could grab them back and swallow them whole. “I’m sorry. That was forward of me.” When all he did was smile, she asked, “What?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone apologize for being forward.”

This. She didn’t know how to deal with this. With him. What he made her feel. The things that came out of her mouth because she wondered what he was thinking, what he thought of her. “May taught me better. That’s all.”

“Don’t apologize for asking what’s on your mind. And to answer—”

“No. Don’t answer. I shouldn’t have asked. You were talking about your parents. Your brother and sister. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She fluttered a hand. “I blame the house.”

“Are you still not sleeping?”

She’d said that to him, too. That she’d come here to sleep, to start over. “I’m sleeping. And I’m starting over. It’s the facing the past I’m having trouble with.”

“How so?”

Big confession time. “I haven’t done anything toward finding my parents.”

“How can I help?”

She looked at him, stared at him, confusion a tilt-a-whirl in her head. “You want to help.”

“I can. I’ve got crazy Google-fu.”

“I can do it on my own. I don’t need help.” She had her house and her knife and her dog. She had her memories. She had her nightmares. But she also had May’s words:
Don’t look to where you’ve come from. Look to where you’re going.
And
that advice, more than any of her fears, left her conflicted. “I mean, thank you for offering. But I need to do it.”

He got to his feet, shoved his hands in his pockets, and shrugged. “I never did answer your question, you know. Yes. I care about you. And I’m offering to help because of that. It’s what friends do.”

Friends. Yes, they were friends. She was the one who kept imagining more. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“But you’ll take me up on the offer if you need to?”

“So you can show off your…Google-fu?” And there she went again, teasing, even flirting, making the tension between them uncomfortable instead of keeping to the business of Two Owls that had brought them together.

“It’s a man thing,” he said, doing a quick flex of his pecs. “Flaunting our mad problem-solving skills.”

But wasn’t that about attracting a mate? The male of the species proving himself with his flashy feathers? Was that what was happening here? Was he preening? Or was her limited experience with men at fault, causing her to read more into his offer than was there?

He backed away before she could respond, saying, “I should probably get back to work. Leave you alone with your…staring.”

And then she laughed. He made her laugh. And if nothing else, there was that.

“W
hat did you do with Magoo?” Luna asked once she and Kaylie had been seated at their table on the Gristmill’s deck. Beneath them, the Guadalupe River drifted lazily, bubbling over rocks and fallen logs.

“He’s in the house with Will and Ten. I told them to lock him up in the mudroom if he gets in the way.” Their server arrived with water and menus, taking their order for iced tea and then leaving them alone.

“We’ve got two Great Pyrs on the farm, but they’re shepherds more than they are pets. I did have a dog when I was younger. She’d been dumped in the ditch in front of the farm. Sweet little Maya. She was part Chinese crested and part Jack Russell. I miss her.” Luna reached for her water and sipped. “I’d love a Magoo of my own. Though maybe a smaller one. Like Maya’s size. She fit on my lap. Magoo would probably smother me.”

Kaylie laughed. “He was so small when I got him. I had no idea what his food bill was going to eventually be.”

“I can imagine. But I’m sure he’s worth it.”

“He’d be worth double,” Kaylie said, opening her menu. “And he’s a lot less maintenance than a relationship.” Though where that had come from she didn’t know. She’d
never had a serious relationship. What did she know about what it took to maintain one?

“I’m spoiled by the single life. I do what I want when I want.”

“Do you date?” Kaylie asked, Ten coming to mind as she did. Her stomach tightened and she wanted to blame the response on hunger. The items on the menu had her mouth watering, but the pull in her belly was about Ten’s hands and his smile and the early sprinkling of coconut-colored strands in the
dulce de leche
of his hair.

Coconut brownies. With sweet Mexican caramel. She pulled her phone from her pocket and sent herself a text so she wouldn’t forget. Pecans, too. And a hint of cayenne. Yes. Absolutely cayenne. Done, she glanced up to find Luna staring, a sly I-know-where-you-went grin on her mouth.

“Hazard of the job,” she said, gesturing with her phone. “I have to catch the ideas before they slip through the sieve of my mind.”

“What was it? Something about the house? The menu?”

“Brownies.
Dulce de leche
and coconut and pecans, I think. And cayenne.”

Luna sat with her elbows on the table, her chin cradled in her palms. Her eyes twinkled. “I like the way you think. I could see the same colors in a scarf. Coconut for the primary, then accents of the other colors. Maybe blood orange, too.”

“Ooh. I wonder how the orange would taste,” Kaylie mused, typing out another text. “Sorry. One second, then I promise no more work talk.”

“Are you kidding? I’m fascinated by work talk. It’s better than dating talk any day, though I’m still trying to figure out how you went from men to food.”

Luna’s comment had Kaylie biting her tongue rather than admitting the idea for the brownie had been born of her thoughts of Ten. If the recipe turned out as wonderfully as she anticipated, she’d have to think of an appropriately cryptic name.

She would enjoy remembering the flavor’s genesis, but she didn’t want anyone else to know. Which brought her back to her original question. “So? Do you? Date?”

“I actually had a man cook dinner for me on Saturday.”

“Ooh, nice,” Kaylie said as their server returned with their tea and to take their orders. They both splurged on the bronze catfish topped with tequila butter and lime, and loaded baked potatoes. Kaylie’s stomach rumbled again as she handed her menu to the young man. “I haven’t eaten a decent meal in days. And I’ve never had a man cook for me that I can remember.”

“This one surprised me, though I’m not sure why. I don’t know him well enough to have had any expectations.”

“A new guy?”

“You met him at the same time I did. Will Bowman.”

Kaylie thought back to the tension the two of them had stirred in her kitchen and decided her immediate attraction to Ten might not be as unusual in the broader scheme as it was in her own experience. “He seemed…I don’t know. Nice sounds so lame, but he was. Maybe a little bit intense.”

“He’s definitely that. He’s also very smart and very sweet. And a very good cook. And very—”

“Hot. He’s very hot.”

Luna tossed back her head and laughed. “Oh yeah. Unfortunately, or maybe very fortunately, I can’t tell you if he’s good in bed, or even a good kisser. He does smell good,
though. I hugged him when I left and got close enough to learn that at least.”

Did that mean Luna had wanted to kiss him? To sleep with him? Without knowing more about him than she did? Kaylie’s thoughts turned to Ten as if his direction was the only one they knew. They’d been close enough to touch several times as they’d passed in the house, as they’d studied blueprints spread out on the kitchen island. She hadn’t even noticed a cologne, but fresh air and laundered clothes and clean sweat. The light spice of aftershave. The pitch of pine sawdust clinging to his skin.

She reached for her tea, perspiration dotting her nape and the valley between her breasts. It was warm out, but nicely so, not enough for her to blame the weather for her sweat. She so wanted to blame the weather for her sweat. This talking men and sex and thinking of how Ten smelled…

“Hello, ladies,” said a familiar voice behind her, a welcome interruption to her disturbing thoughts. As Luna looked up, Kaylie turned in time to see Mitch Pepper stop at their table, his smile hesitant and not quite reaching his eyes. “I hope you ordered the catfish. I filleted it fresh this morning.”

“We did,” Luna said as Kaylie nodded. “Did you two already meet?”

“Mitch came by the house last week.”

“About the job?”

“Yes and no,” Mitch answered, hedging. “I love what Kaylie’s got planned, but this place is my home. I just don’t think two part-time gigs will pay the bills.”

Kaylie said to Luna, “I think he came by because you wanted him to. Not to see about the job.”

“She sees right through me,” Mitch said. “Actually, both of you do.”

“It’s our job as women,” Luna replied, her gaze flicking from Kaylie to Mitch and back. “Did he have ideas for more casseroles than you’ve come up with?”

“We didn’t talk specifics, but he swore he had all sorts of secrets up his sleeve.” Kaylie glanced up at Mitch, watched the slow shake of his head.

“I’ve seen him in the kitchen,” Luna, laughing, leaned forward to say. “He does. Trust me.”

“And before one of you manages to worm them out of me, I’d better get back and make sure your orders are being taken care of.” He lifted a hand in farewell. “Kaylie, good to see you again. And Luna, I’ll see you Sunday at the farm.”