Chapter 14 #2
“What’s on the menu for tonight?” He handed her a glass of wine, sniffed the amber liquid sitting in a measuring cup next to the stove.
“This one smells like bourbon.” He turned to the second measuring cup.
“And this one’s maple syrup?” Ian glanced at her, brows pinched together. “Are you making some kind of glaze?”
“Yes, I’m going to add soy sauce and cook our salmon in it.” She set her wine glass on the counter. “If you’ve never had bourbon-glazed salmon, you’re in for a treat. Add a baked sweet potato and fresh green beans? Delicious.”
His lips twitched. “You had me at bourbon.”
“I thought you were more of a scotch drinker but…” She stopped, sifted through the years to the time when he’d told her he preferred scotch over other drinks.
He fixed his gaze on the measuring cup containing the bourbon.
“When I was younger, it was cool to drink scotch or bourbon and do shots. Beer in my circles wasn’t really a thing.
I avoided it because I guess I needed to fit in, not just with my friends but with my family.
” He took another sip of wine, his voice shifting.
“When that stopped mattering, I decided I was just going to be myself.” His lips pulled into a smile.
“A beer drinker who occasionally drinks wine, likes old T-shirts, faded jeans, scuffed boots…long hair and tattoos…” He pointed to the full beard.
“This is questionable. It’s a nice layer of protection in the wintertime, and it’s a good avoidance tactic if you’re trying to hide your expression.
But I’ve had it for two years, and I’m thinking about getting rid of it, or at least, taming it a bit. ” He slid her a glance. “Any thoughts?”
You would look good with or without a beard… “Actually, I think the beard suits you, but I can see where you might want to trim it up.” She studied the dark curls of his beard, calculated how many inches he could remove. “I think you’d look good with a little less…shave up the neck, thin it out…”
“As long as it still makes me unemployable at my father’s company.”
“It probably would… Just do what feels authentic.”
Long pause and then a quiet “Interesting you should choose that word. That’s one of the reasons I came back to Magdalena.
” He cleared his throat. “That summer was the first time since I was a kid that anything felt authentic. The fallout after made me realize I could live my life according to someone else’s expectations, or I could find my own path.
I chose the second. It took me a while—years in fact—to admit I was still hiding and it didn’t have anything to do with the way I looked.
I had to come back here and face what happened—” his words spilled emotion and regret, “—and I had to face you.” He held up a hand before she could respond.
“Maybe that was a little too much sharing, but you asked for the truth.”
“I’m glad you told me.” He really hadn’t wanted to stay away. Any doubt she’d had about that vanished with this latest admission. “I appreciate you sharing this with me.”
He opened his mouth to speak, and she hoped he’d say more. But what he shared was casual, and more appropriate for a new acquaintance than an ex-girlfriend. “Now, why don’t you show me what you’re going to do with this bourbon?”
And just like that, they were on even ground again, retreating from whatever emotions rested in their hearts.
As conversation shifted to topics such as the “heat” levels in O’Reilly’s wings, the eight different types of tomatoes Katie grew in her garden, and Ian’s penchant for American muscle cars, they laughed, they shared, they relaxed.
It turned out Ian loved bourbon-glazed salmon and had an extra helping.
“Do you travel much for work?”
Katie forked a green bean, considered her answer. “I do, but traveling to Chicago isn’t the same as flying to Germany or the UK.”
“True. The trip is much shorter.” His smile reached his eyes, made them bluer. “I’ve been to Chicago quite a few times.” He paused, tilted his head to one side. “What are the odds we were there at the same time?”
She’d thought about that once or twice in the early travel days, part of her hoping to run into him, the other part dreading it. What would she have said? What if he’d been with someone? What if he hadn’t? What if–
“Did you ever consider it?”
Katie pushed away her plate, folded her elbows on the table, and studied the man who’d once vowed they’d plan their future together. “Early on, I thought about it, but… it seemed unlikely.” She shook her head, laughed. “Highly unlikely.”
“Any more unlikely than me landing in Magdalena again?”
Another laugh, a sigh. “Nothing could be more unlikely than that.”
“I used to look for you in different cities. I figured, who knows? You could be pitching your soups in Dallas, Nashville, Chicago, Columbus. I’d wonder what would happen if we ran into each other.” His voice dipped, turned rough. “Part of me hoped for it, but another part…”
“Was scared?”
He looked away. “You could say that.”
Her stomach jumped, her breathing shifted, and she tried to stay calm, but her darn pulse wouldn’t let her. Had Ian just admitted he’d never forgotten her…never gotten over her? And what about her feelings? Had she ever felt this way about any other guy, including the fiancé?
No, never.
Now what?
Maybe it was the mystery behind who he’d become, coupled with the longing and the heartache of young love that made him different. Made him close to irresistible. Oh, she hoped that was it. It could not be more…it could not be real.
Could it?
That would open her up to so much pain, and she didn’t know if she could risk that again.
“Hey.” Ian covered her hand with his. “It’s okay. I’m not trying to scare you or make you feel guilty. I’m just being honest.” A hand squeeze, a gentle “Relax, okay?”
A nod, a half-smile. “Thank you.”
One more squeeze and then he released her hand, pushed back his chair, and gathered their plates. “Why don’t we get the dishes done, and you can tell me about the dessert you fixed, because I smelled apples and cinnamon the second I stepped inside.”
There was no more talk of running into each other in strange cities or the real moments they shared ten years ago.
As Ian helped Katie with the dishes, they chatted about beer choices and how he’d learned the secret ingredients to the perfect hamburger.
“Nick Borado showed me a few tricks, and he even convinced me to try hummus.” He shot her a look, his lips pulling into a wide smile.
“I never touched the stuff before, but now I can’t get enough of it.
Did you know you can roast your own red peppers?
It’s tricky and time-consuming, but it tastes so much better than a jar. ”
Katie tried to keep the humor from her words. “I did hear that. I’ve roasted a few peppers in my time, and they’re actually the main ingredient in my roasted red pepper soup.”
He laughed. “Of course they are. I love that one. It’s got a little bit of tang and just the right amount of sweet.” He removed a plate from the drainboard, dried it as he contemplated her words. “I still think the spicy black bean is my favorite.”
When he’d visited Magdalena ten years ago, she’d been testing different versions of that soup, adding, subtracting, doubling. She’d chosen the one he favored, with a few minor tweaks. And every time she looked at it, she remembered how he’d sworn she could sell enough jars to buy a house.
“How is it that you’re eating my soups when they just hit the West Coast four months ago?”
Had his face paled beneath his tan just now?
“You’ve been mentioned in the business magazines I read.
Once I heard you were a full-fledged company, I searched you out, ordered a few jars online, but I wanted to see where you landed in the grocery stores.
Would you get an endcap? What about your own display? Would there be advertising?”
“You certainly were curious.”
His gaze slid to hers, his words saturating her brain. “Is that so hard to imagine?”
Oh, there was a serious question. What was he really asking her?
Was it hard to imagine him enjoying her soups?
Or was it hard to imagine that he was curious about her?
Tonight, he’d admitted to wondering if they’d ever run into one another in a random city.
A person didn’t wonder about that for no reason. No, a person only thought about it if–
“I’m not sure you realize how special you are.
” He laid the bowl on the counter, placed the dish towel on the rack.
“You’ve created a product that brings people together, makes them think of home and family and simpler times.
You’re not only selling delicious soup, you’re selling the memories and the desire to return to what used to be, and what could be.
I taste it every time I eat one of your soups.
” A pause, a throat clearing. “And for the sake of truth, I’ve got a whole cupboard at home, and I eat at least two a week. ”
The serious expression said he wasn’t joking. “You do?” The next words slipped out before she could stop herself. “Why?”
Those blue eyes sparked as he leaned forward, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Why? You really don’t know?”
Why was he looking at her like he wanted to get closer, like he wanted to–
“I know I hurt you, even though I was only trying to protect you. But you, Katie Layton, are the very best thing that ever happened to me, and I couldn’t quite let that go.
Every time I opened a jar of your soup, I thought of you…
pictured your hair…your smile….” His gaze flitted over her face, slid to her neck, back to her eyes.
“I remembered everything, and the recall was torment as much as it was heaven.”