Kane Page 4

He laughed. “I follow your Instagram, remember?”

  “Right.” Water ran in the background. I wonder if he was making coffee too. “Well, your Instagram tells me nothing.”

  “It tells people what I want them to know.”

  “Which is nothing. And there’s not even a single embarrassing yearbook photo of you on the whole world wide web.”

  The coffee finished brewing, so I filled my cup. The silver spoon clinked against the ceramic as I stirred in some cream and sugar.

  “So, you Googled me?” His voice sounded more amused than offended. I could almost hear the smirk.

  More rustling. And was that… a zipper? Was he getting dressed? If he was getting dressed, then that meant he was previously—I didn’t even want to think it. I clenched my thighs together and took a sip of my coffee. Not that I needed to warm up. If anything, I needed to cool down.

  “A strange man emails me about having dinner right after I read all the twisted, creepy things his mind is capable of conjuring up. I’d be crazy not to Google you.” I wasn’t about to tell him I Googled him the minute I finished reading his book.

  Another laugh. I wanted to see his face when he laughed, to see if it lit up his eyes the way I imagined it did.

  “I keep my personal life guarded.”

  I took another sip of my coffee and sat on my sofa. “Guarded people are usually only guarded for one of two reasons.”

  “Care to share with the class?” he asked.

  “Well, they’re either broken—usually because of something in their past. Or they have skeletons in their closet.”

  “What if the skeletons in their closet are broken?”

  He was obviously kidding, which I quickly figured was a diversion from serious conversation. As badly as I wanted to, I wasn’t about to push. I wasn’t a pusher. If Bennett Kane wanted me to know more about him, he would tell me when he was ready. I didn’t need anything more than his conversation and this cup of coffee right now anyway.

  “That’s a whole new level of crazy, and I don’t have enough letters behind my name to deal with that.”

  Bennett laughed again but it was muted and distant, not a deep rumble like before.

  “Okay, Korie Lawson. You win. I’ll peel back a layer for you.”

  I was amazed at how easy he was to talk to. It was like he’d called me every Sunday morning since forever. It was nice, the kind of nice that made me smile against my coffee mug before I took a drink. The sun crept in through the two-inch wooden blinds, as if it smiled with me. I tucked one foot under my butt and leaned against the back cushion.

  “Bennett, I’m only kidding. I don’t need to know everything about everything.”

  “Who said I was giving you everything? This is a one-layer-at-a-time deal.” I heard the smile in his voice and waited for him to continue. “In my real life, I’m a financial consultant for Fortune 500 companies.”

  I loved how he said in his real life. As though he thought I pictured him as the characters he wrote.

  “Meaning you basically just tell people how to spend their money?”

  “Not just people. Powerful people. Rich people.”

  I finished off my first cup of coffee and contemplated pouring another. “And they listen to you?”

  He chuckled. The deep rumble was back. That rumble made my body more alert and aware than the coffee ever could. “I’m usually pretty persuasive.”

  I bet you are.

  “This writing gig is just a hobby then?”

  “Woah. Pump the brakes, Speed Racer. One layer at a time, remember? What kind of guy would I be if I took it all off before the first date?”

  This time I laughed. “Now it’s a date?” I asked as I got off the sofa for another cup of coffee.

  The clock above my stove jolted me out of my infatuated haze. It was almost nine o’clock. My mother texted me last night that she and my father wanted to take me to breakfast. She said they had something important to discuss. Please don’t let them close the café. That place was my life. I wouldn’t know what to do without it. We stayed busy, and the cash flow was steady. But my parents spent less and less time in Hickory Falls lately. For the first time in years, I was scared.

  “Dinner. Date. Tomayto. Tomahto,” he replied, and it made me laugh.

  He seemed to do that a lot—make me laugh exactly when I needed it.

  “Is that a yes?” he asked. I heard sirens in the background, like he was standing outside near a busy street.

  I pictured the buzz of morning traffic and sidewalks filled with pedestrians. Life in Houston was probably very different from a morning in Hickory Falls. The only time anyone ever heard sirens in our little town was when the Christmas parade rolled down Main Street. Santa sat on top of the town’s one and only fire truck and waved and tossed candy to the crowd. It made the kids go crazy.

  “My parents will be here soon. I should go.” It’s a yes. But I couldn’t tell him that… yet.

  He groaned. A door closed in the background, and the siren sounds faded away.

  “But—” I added. “I would really like it if you called me again sometime.”

  “I would really like that too.”

  My entire insides turned to warm goo. I was mush. Bennett Kane turned me to mush. My cheeks hurt from smiling so big.

  “Goodbye, Bennett.”

  “Later, Korie.”

  The line went quiet for several seconds, like neither one of us really wanted to hang up. Finally, I inhaled a deep breath and ended the call. I stirred my coffee and smiled to myself.

  I was a twenty-seven-year-old woman. So, why did I suddenly feel like the sixteen-year-old me that just got asked to prom by Craig Whittenburg?

  Even if my parents did fire me, this was the best Sunday ever.

  The verdict was in. Korie Lawson was an angel. The sweetest voice I could ever imagine came from those perfect red lips. When she laughed, I wanted to put her on speakerphone and let the sound of it bounce off every wall in my apartment.

  If I kept lying in bed in nothing but my boxer briefs, hearing her sweet laugh and imaging those lips when she smiled, I was going to have to jack off. And that seemed a little inappropriate for the first phone call, which was saying a lot because my bar for inappropriate was set pretty low. So, I’d pulled on a pair of jeans and walked out onto my balcony. Korie was drinking coffee, and I couldn’t resist the urge to drink coffee with her. I wanted to be a part of everything she did, even if we were hundreds of miles apart.

  The city seemed brighter, more welcoming this morning. I never went out on my balcony. My loft-style apartment overlooked one of the busiest streets in Houston. Stepping outside always made me feel boxed in. But it was close to work, so I couldn’t complain. It was still morning, but the Texas sun had already warmed the air outside. The streets buzzed with early morning traffic. None of it made me feel anxious the way it normally did. It didn’t make me feel like there was work to be done, deadlines to be met, or places I needed to be. I leaned against the iron railing of my balcony, sipping my coffee and soaked it all in—soaked her in.

  Talking to Korie was effortless. I hadn’t talked on the phone with a girl since the all-nighter with Melody St. Pierre when we were in seventh grade. That was a lifetime ago. That was before the accident that changed everything about who I was. Before the scars that drove most girls away. Not physical scars. I managed to get out without any of those. My scars were deeper than that. Mine were the kind of scars that burned from the inside out. They were the reason I kept my distance from everyone except Jayce—why I always walked a step ahead. Sometimes I wondered if the scars the world couldn’t see were the hardest ones to heal.

  Korie wanted to know more about me, and I didn’t blame her. That was how these things worked. People met. They got to know each other. There was a natural progression, a progression I’d spent most of my life avoiding like the plague. Korie was different, though. I didn’t want to avoid anything with her. But I also wasn’t ready to scare
her away just yet. I wanted to enjoy her a little while longer. If we made it past dinner… Scratch that—if we ever made it to dinner, I’d peel back another layer. Maybe I could trust her not to dig too deep. I couldn’t let that happen. If she dug too deep, she’d find the scars, and I couldn’t risk reopening old wounds.

  Trying to work was impossible. I had an important meeting on Monday morning and needed to prepare my presentation slides. Every time I opened my laptop to get any work done, my mind drifted back to Korie. Her voice. Her laugh. Those lips. And how she was so close to saying yes to dinner.

  I closed PowerPoint and opened Word. Then it happened. The words poured out of me like I was Cupid with a bad case of word vomit.

  Two hours later, I was three chapters into my next novel.

  And it was a fucking romance.

  My parents showed up at nine o’clock just like they said they would. I’d had just enough time to stop my head from spinning after my phone call with Bennett and throw some decent clothes on.

  We sat in our favorite spot by the window at Mabel’s Table. The faint melody of country music and muted echoes of conversations filled the restaurant. The whole place smelled like bacon and maple syrup. I ran my hand across the smooth wooden tabletop and nervously tapped my foot on the white tile floor. Our waitress, Jordyn, had just refilled my parents’ coffee and brought me a glass of orange juice.

  We didn’t open our coffee shop on Sundays. That had always been family day. Sometimes when I was little, after church we’d drive to the mountains in Tennessee for the day or go to Six Flags in Atlanta. That was the great thing about Hickory Falls, it was a cozy little bubble of hometown feel-goodness tucked right in the middle of urban and serene.

  I set the laminated menu at the edge of our table. I stared at it for five minutes even though I already knew what I wanted. Two buttermilk pancakes, two strips of crispy bacon, and scrambled eggs. That’s what I always ordered. I usually didn’t even look at the menu. Today, my mind was a million miles away. But it had nothing to do with meeting my parents and everything to do with a velvety voice and rumbly laugh.

  I passed my mom a tiny bowl full of liquid creamer cups. “How was Pensacola Beach?”

  My mom tore open a packet of sugar and dumped it into her coffee. “It was beautiful,” she said while she stirred her spoon around the coffee cup.

  Jordyn walked up with her bright smile and long, red hair pulled up into a ponytail. She pulled her order pad out of her apron pocket. She’d been working at Mabel’s for five years, and I was pretty sure the pad was just for show. I had no doubt that she’d had the menu memorized, along with what everyone usually always ordered.

  Mom ordered two eggs over-medium with white toast, a sausage patty, and grits. Dad ordered a western omelet, and I ordered my usual. What could I say? We were creatures of habit.

  “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about,” Dad said after he thanked Jordyn for topping off his coffee.

  “You’re moving to Pensacola,” I shot in.

  It was a joke but the way both my parents looked at me told me they didn’t think it was funny. Mom slid her coffee mug to the side and narrowed her eyes at me. Dad straightened his back against the wooden chair and cleared his throat.

  “You read too much. It’s almost spooky how good you are at predicting the ending,” Mom said.

  It was true. They hated watching movies with me. I was like a plot ninja when it came to picking up on the subtle things writers threw in to foreshadow the big twist. I always got so excited when a book or a movie could actually throw me off course. It was one of the things I loved so much about Bennett’s book. Totally unexpected. I never saw it coming. Kind of like him. I never saw him coming either. Yet, here he was, hijacking my Sunday breakfast and he wasn’t even here.

  I nearly spit out my orange juice. “Wait. What? You mean I was right?” I set my glass on the table and moved my eyes back and forth between the two of them. “Holy crap.”

  Other than the four years I spent in Savannah at college, I’d never been without my parents. And even then, I came home every weekend. I knew my parents had been restless but… moving?

  “What about the coffee shop?” I asked, trying not to sound like a spoiled child who didn’t want to let go of her baby doll. I didn’t know what I’d do without Common Ground. I’d never even thought about it.

  My parents gave each other a knowing look then Dad reached over and grabbed my mother’s hand. “We thought you might want it,” he said, and one corner of his mouth twitched in the beginning of a smile.

  “What’s the catch? There has to be a catch. Did you win the lottery and forget to tell me?” I folded my arms across my chest and studied their faces a second then gasped. “No! Don’t tell me. Mom is pregnant. You guys are going through some weird mid-life crisis thing and—”

  My parents burst out laughing. “No one is pregnant,” Dad said. “At least not yet.” He winked at Mom and she blushed.

  The one thing no one wants to hear right before breakfast is how their parents plan on doing the naked tango. They were like teenagers. It made me want to throw up and hug them all at the same time.

  “Are you kidding me?” I slid my chair away from the table and ran to the other side. I tackled Mom in a hug first, then Dad. “I would love to take over the shop.”

  I’m not crying, you’re crying.

  I’d never seen my parents happier. I woke up to the smooth, seductive voice of the mysterious Bennett Kane. I was the soon-to-be proud owner of my very own coffee shop. And Jordyn walked this way with a plate full of pancakes.

  This was without a doubt the best Sunday ever.

  I don’t know how I let Stella talk me into going to Atlanta with her. Again. But here we were, in the middle of a bridal boutique downtown for a final bridesmaid’s gown fitting.

  “Don’t forget to tell Claire I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to her wedding.” I reached around the heavy curtain and handed Stella a bustier. Not that she needed it. If I didn’t know her better, I’d swear she’d paid for her boobs instead of inherited them naturally.

  “But I hate to close the shop for three days right after my parents handed me the keys, ya know?” I explained.

  “She runs a B&B now, so she’ll totally understand,” Stella said, followed by first a grunt, then a squeal. “Rie. I need you.”

  I pushed the curtain aside and hurried into the dressing area where she tried on her dress. She popped up and down on her tiptoes, frantically grabbing at the fabric where she’d zipped her hair in the zipper.

  I moved her hands away from the back of the dress. “It’s okay. I got it.”

  Stella stopped bouncing long enough for me to grab the top of her hair in one hand and work the zipper with the other. A few seconds of careful maneuvering and she was good.

  “See?” I said. “All better.” I zipped up the back of the dress and she situated herself in the bustier. “Every man in Clover Creek is going to be slipping in a pool of drool.”

  Stella rolled her eyes and scanned her reflection in the mirror. “Shut up.”

  “I’m serious. You look amazing.”

  “Yeah. Well if Clover Creek is anything like Hickory Falls, then all the men are either distant relatives, already taken, or trying to figure out which multivitamin is best for their arthritis.”

  She had a point.

  “Why do you think I spend so much time in Atlanta?” she asked with a gleam in her eye.

  “Why do you think I’m still single?” I shrugged.

  “Because you don’t come to Atlanta enough?”

  “You’re hopeless.” I unzipped her dress once she was satisfied with how it fit. “Maybe this Jayce guy has a hot brother.”

  She slid the dress over her hips and stepped out of it. Could she get any more gorgeous? Seriously. She was built for a swimsuit magazine. “Nope. Only child. I already asked.”

  “Well, there’s gotta be a best man…”

  Stella hu
ng the dress on the hanger then grabbed her clothes from the bench behind us. “Oh, there’s definitely a best man, and Claire told me to stay away from him.”

  “Which means he’s notoriously single and incredibly hot.” I winked and she laughed.

  “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

  If there was one thing I knew about Stella, it was that if there was an attractive, single guy around, he wasn’t going home without her number... or her panties.

  “Shouldn’t we be planning your bachelor party or something?” I asked Jayce while he drove us to some formal wear store in Katy. “And what exactly are we shopping for again?”

  Jayce eased into the HOV lane, letting us bypass the morning traffic. “A cummerbund. And I don’t need a bachelor party.”

  “It’s a rite of passage. You can’t get married without it.”

  “Says who?”

  I shrugged and looked out the passenger side window. “I don’t know. Confucius?”

  He laughed. “Just because you want something to sound profound, that doesn’t mean Confucius said it.”

  “Those fortune cookies at Peking Palace got me through a lot of tough times in college.”

  “I don’t need a bachelor party.”

  I held both hands up in surrender. “Your call. But you’re missing out.”

  “Your day will come, and you’ll know exactly why taking shots from a stranger’s belly button and falling asleep in a foreign hotel room isn’t my idea of a good time.”

  Jayce pulled into an empty parking space and cut the engine. I stared out the window. He talked like I did those things. Sure, in college, maybe. But not now. Maybe I wasn’t the most serious person he knew and definitely wasn’t the next in line to tie the knot. My parents ruined that fairy tale for me a long time ago. But I wasn’t some frat boy with a death wish.

  Jayce pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to a petite blonde once we were inside the store. She typed something into her computer then raked her eyes over me from head to toe.

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and blushed. “Are you the groom?”