Page 10 of Now That It’s You (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #5)

“It’s how I knew I made the right choice. I was sad, obviously, and heartbroken. But I also felt like this huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.”

Kyle looked at her for a moment, and she waited for him to tell her Matt felt the same way. She braced herself for the sting of hearing the man she’d loved for ten years had walked away from the church that day feeling grateful to escape being shackled to her for life.

But Kyle said nothing, probably because he had more tact than she did.

“I’m glad you landed on your feet,” he said finally. “You always were resilient.”

“Thanks.” Meg folded her legs under her, conscious of her knee brushing his on the sofa before she settled. “Wow, we’ve kind of moved on a bit from tortoise penises and clogged toilets.”

“Maybe we’re evolving.”

“Is that what it is?”

“Or maybe I’m just nosy. Want to tell me what you were thinking in the kitchen, or do you want me to butt out?”

Meg bit her lip. “It’s okay. Honestly, I didn’t realize how often I censored myself until you brought it up.”

Kyle rubbed the back of his hand over his chin, and the soft scratch-scritch sound was oddly soothing. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he said. “I’m not trying to pry. Just thought you might like to get something off your chest.”

“Maybe I would.” Meg took a shaky breath.

She couldn’t tell him everything she’d been thinking about the cookbook and her bitterness over Matt’s disinterest. She couldn’t tell him about the silly argument they’d had later that night over how often bath towels should be washed, and she really couldn’t tell him about the makeup sex that left her feeling cold and disconnected from the man she’d intended to marry.

She couldn’t say any of that, but she settled for something close.

“I guess I was thinking about the cookbook. How I wish things had gone differently with that, and that people would have gotten to read all my delicious recipes or see Matt’s beautiful photos.

It would have been nice to have it out there in the world for more than just my mom and Kendall to enjoy.

” She took a sip of wine and shrugged. “I know that’s unrealistic.

You’re an artist. Obviously you’re a lot more acquainted than I am with understanding how disappointment comes with the territory. ”

“It’s a beautiful cookbook,” Kyle said. “Truly.”

“Thanks. You want to know a secret?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “How did I earn another confession?”

“By being a good listener.”

“Yes,” he said, smiling a little. “I want to know another secret.”

Meg sighed. “I always kinda hoped that cookbook would be my big break. Like it might lead to more cookbooks and maybe even my own cooking show on television and maybe—” She stopped, not wanting to get carried away. “Shit.”

“What?”

She nibbled her lip. “I’ve never said that to anyone. Not even to Kendall.”

“The TV thing, or how you wanted your book to do well?”

“The television show.” She forced out a laugh that sounded shaky and weird.

“It was a dumb idea. I watch a lot of Food Network stuff, and I’ve always looked up to Chef Melody.

Did you know her son is a chef here in Oregon?

At Ponderosa Resort.” With a self-conscious chuckle, she kept going.

“And Dal Yang is amazing on Fresh Start at Juniper Ridge, but those guys are real professionals. I’m just a caterer. ”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Meg.”

“Please.” She scoffed and picked up another chip. “I’m socially awkward and clumsy and also a little bit chubby. I’m the last person on Earth who should be on TV.”

“Meg.” He looked like he didn’t know where to start with that. “You’re funny and smart and fucking beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed hot and she forced herself to look away from him. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m happy being a caterer. And I’m glad I at least took a stab at chasing my dream, even if it didn’t work out.”

He didn’t say anything right away. In the back of her mind, she begged him to drop it. Why did she say all that anyway?

When he finally spoke, Kyle’s voice rolled out in a low rumble. “Chasing dreams can feel counterproductive sometimes. Like they run off in different directions when you chase them. Kinda like herding cats.”

They both looked at Floyd. Floyd gave a low growl and closed his eyes.

“Anyway,” Kyle said. “I think you should be proud of the cookbook, even if it didn’t sell like hot cakes.”

“I never understood that expression. I’ve worked in retail and in a lot of restaurants, and hot cakes aren’t really all that popular.”

“What sells better?”

Meg shrugged. “Bacon. Chewing gum. Romance novels.”

He laughed. “How about stuff like toothbrushes and toilet paper?”

“Sure. Or porn.”

“Aren’t they pretty much giving porn away on the internet these days?”

“True. Same’s true for the cookbook. Help yourself if you want one. Take a couple. Maybe your parents would like one.”

“I’ll do that.”

He didn’t say anything again for a moment, and Meg wondered if they’d run out of things to discuss. When he finally did speak, his voice was low and soft. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For what Matt did. With Annabelle, I mean.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still.” He cleared his throat. “I wish things had ended differently.”

It struck her that he didn’t say he wished things hadn’t ended at all, but she let it pass. It wasn’t like either of them were choosing their words very carefully right now.

She suddenly felt very conscious of Kyle sitting close enough on the couch for their knees to touch.

So close she could feel the warmth radiating from his forearm where it rested behind her on the sofa.

So close she could hear his heartbeat if she leaned forward and rested her ear against his chest.

Stop thinking about that.

She should go check the pork. She set down her wineglass and stood up. Too fast. Swaying a little, she reached out and grabbed Kyle’s shoulder.

His arms went around her waist to steady her, or maybe it was something else. Instinct? Maybe that’s what she felt pulling her down onto his lap, or maybe it was gravity. She’d always been clumsy, and surely that’s how she ended up sprawled across his thighs, his hands warm and solid on her back.

They sat there frozen for an instant, faces nearly touching. She was close enough to feel his breath. Close enough to lose herself in the ash-flecked green depths of his eyes. Close enough to lick his nose.

The giggle slipped out before she had a chance to catch it. Kyle pushed her hair back off her face and studied her with a bemused look. “You okay?”

She shook her head. “Embarrassed. Clumsy. But okay otherwise.”

“What’s so funny?”

She reached for her ear, then stopped herself. Dammit anyway. “I was thinking about licking your nose.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you meant about grief making people do weird things?”

“Something like that.”

He nodded. “You know what I did last night?”

“What?”

“Spent an hour on eBay looking for a record player so I could listen to a Kenny Rogers album I found in some of Matt’s stuff.”

“That’s not so weird.”

“I fucking hate Kenny Rogers.”

Meg smiled. “You’re right. That’s weird. Know what I did?”

“What?”

“Spent ten minutes combing Floyd last night before I realized I was using my own toothbrush.”

“Also weird. And a little unsanitary.”

“I threw it away afterward.”

“Good call.” He blew out a breath that ruffled Meg’s hair, his brow creasing a little the way it did when he was pondering something. “Okay then, I went to the store to get groceries this morning and got halfway through shopping before I realized I wasn’t wearing shoes.”

“No one told you?”

“Nope. Not even the produce guy I stopped to ask where I could find cantaloupe.”

“I thought you hated cantaloupe.”

“I do.” He shifted a little, and Meg was suddenly very aware she was still sitting on his lap. “But Matt always liked it, and I wanted to give it another shot.”

Meg smiled. “Definitely weird. But in a nice way.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You know what else might count as weird grief?”

“What?”

“Kissing you.”

“Oh.” She blinked, not totally sure she’d heard him right.

But the way his eyes locked on her mouth told her she’d definitely heard right.

And the way her body fizzed with desire told her she wanted the same damn thing.

She swallowed hard, not daring to breathe.

Every molecule in her body screamed for him to do it.

To make the tiny space disappear between their lips so she could know after all these years whether Kyle’s were as soft as they looked.

She took a breath, imagining she could already taste him.

She watched as his gaze lifted to hers and his expression shifted to the one he got sometimes when she set a plate of her chocolate rum cake in front of him.

“That would definitely be weird,” she murmured. “Kissing each other, I mean.”

“Weird good or weird bad?”

“Yes?”

She didn’t move. He was probably waiting for her to get off his lap or put her mouth on his or say something helpful like “kiss me” or “stop” or?—

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Meg scrambled off his lap in a tangle of limbs and cinnamon chips and guilt, hurrying to put as much distance as possible between them as she ran for the kitchen. “The oven!” she announced, though that was hardly necessary. The man had surely heard an oven beep before.

But he’d never come that close to kissing her before.

And she’d never come that close to wanting him to.

“That was amazing.”

Kyle grimaced, wishing every other word out of his mouth didn’t sound like he was thanking her for a blowjob. “Dinner, I mean,” he clarified, which earned him a befuddled look from Meg.

He stood up from the table, bumping the fork off his plate and dropping his napkin on the floor while Meg watched from across the table. She stared at him like she was trying to figure out when he’d gone insane.

It was right about the time I almost kissed you.

He thought about the other time that same urge had seized him, though circumstances had been much different. What if he’d acted on it then, kissing her senseless the way he’d desperately wanted to?

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“What?” It was Kyle’s turn to stare.

“Dinner.” She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin and Kyle grabbed his plate to keep himself from grabbing her.

“Let me get the dishes.” He reached for her plate before he realized it was still loaded with piping hot food. She gave him a funny look and took the plate back, then set it down and speared a piece of asparagus.

God, he was losing it.

He sat back down, ordering himself to breathe deeply. He had to stop looking at her. He glanced to the side and saw Floyd staring at him from the barstool. Floyd narrowed his eyes and gave a low growl.

“Kyle, it’s okay,” she said.

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m not talking about the dishes. Or the cat.”

“Neither was I.”

She stared at him a moment, then nodded. “Do you want to pretend it never happened? The kiss, I mean.”

“Technically, it didn’t happen.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Do you want to pretend it didn’t almost happen? Blame it on grief or Viognier or the aphrodisiac qualities of cinnamon.”

“Let’s do that.” Kyle folded his hands on the table, then unfolded them. He wanted to stand up and run out the door and he wanted to jump across the table to take Meg in his arms.

None of those seemed like a good idea at the moment.

He clenched his jaw, biting back the question he’d thought about asking her all evening. For three years, actually.

Do you remember that Thanksgiving when ? —

No. Now wasn’t the time.

Meg took a sip of wine, then pushed back in her chair and walked to the kitchen. She pulled two copies of her aphrodisiac cookbook off the shelf, then turned and walked back to the dining room. As Kyle stood up, she handed them to him.

“Here you go. I can tell you’re ready to bolt from the house like it’s on fire, and I don’t want you to forget these.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Meg.”

“I’m not. I got daisies and a great tip about a nervous habit I never knew I had.”

“Then we’ll go ahead and call it a win.” He tucked the cookbooks under one arm and stuck out his hand to shake hers. “I think I’d better say goodnight.”

She grabbed the hand and pulled him close, wrapping her arms around his middle. The squeeze she gave him was tight and warm and felt too damn good. “Don’t be an idiot,” she said. “We always hug goodbye, you big jerk.”

The hug felt so soft and familiar that Kyle dissolved into it, resting his chin on top of her head the way he used to. He breathed in the scent of her and tried to remember the last time he’d hugged her.

The day before the wedding. The day you ruined for everyone.

When Meg pulled away, he didn’t know whether he felt more relieved or disappointed.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she said.

“Don’t be an idiot, don’t be a stranger—anything else you’d like to command me not to be?”

“Sorry. Stop being sorry.” She gave him a sad little smile and a nudge toward the door. “Go on, get out of here. You said you’re going to Bend tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Some Hollywood producer commissioned a piece for his vacation home there. I’m driving it over in the morning, making sure it gets set up right in the media room.”

“Drive safely.”

“I will.” He turned and walked away, then hesitated at the door. “Thanks again for everything, Meg.”

“Maybe we should keep in touch?”

Kyle nodded. “Maybe we should.” He twisted the doorknob, not sure if that was the best idea in the world or the worst.