Chapter Three
On Monday afternoon, the first of the three days Corinne’s Kitchen was only open for breakfast and lunch, Kenzie flew through her closing duties and practically ran out the door.
Frank and Nathan—who helped in the kitchen along with bussing tables and washing dishes—would stay later, doing a deeper weekly cleaning.
Kenzie always left as soon as possible on Monday afternoons because it was the day she and Rhylee went shopping.
Her cousin was the middle of three kids—sandwiched between two brothers—and, being the same age, she and Kenzie had always been more like sisters.
And maybe making the drive to a big chain store to stock up on staples that cost a lot more in the local markets wasn’t exactly glamorous, but they tried to have fun with it.
Today, she was hoping to sneak in a little more reading before her cousin picked her up.
She was almost done with the pages and she had so many thoughts to share with Danny.
For one, she could almost pinpoint the page where the magic went out of the story.
It went flat, like a stale soda, and she had some ideas on why that had happened.
It was a ten-minute drive to the house she’d grown up in, and had moved back into after her mother died.
At twenty-four, Kenzie had been living and working in the southern part of the state with her boyfriend, Hunter.
He’d recently been offered a job in Boston, so they were preparing to move to the city and excited to begin a new chapter in their lives.
They would work hard for a while, travel when they could and then start a family.
Most of what she owned was packed into moving boxes when she got a phone call that brought everything crashing down around her.
Corinne Pelletier had taken a familiar corner too fast and hit a moose.
Kenzie’s dreams—and her relationship—had died along with her mother because she couldn’t leave her grieving father with nothing but an empty home and a family restaurant he couldn’t run alone. And Hunter didn’t want to wait.
Ten years later, Kenzie had no regrets. She had a good life, shared with family and friends, and she actually loved her childhood home.
Some paint wouldn’t hurt, though, she thought as she pulled off the dirt road onto her gravel drive.
The cape-style home was well over a hundred years old, and it always needed something.
The next big project would be repainting the clapboards the pale sunshine yellow her mother had chosen years ago—thinking it would be cheery and bright with white trim and shutters.
It was cheery, even during this drab season, and Kenzie smiled just thinking about how pretty it would be when everything turned green and the plants started budding.
Her smile slipped when she saw Rhylee’s car was already parked in front of the garage. She was always happy to see her cousin, but she’d really wanted to read at least another chapter of Danny’s manuscript before they left.
Danny’s manuscript.
After trying to read a few pages on her computer, she’d burned through some printer ink and paper, printing it double-sided and in as small a font as her eyes could tolerate. The ability to write notes on it and underline things made it worth the effort and expense.
But this morning, she’d left it on the kitchen counter.
Frank left before she did, in the early dark hours for prep work, and she knew she’d be home before him today.
After sneaking in a few more paragraphs with the last of her coffee, Kenzie had felt secure in leaving it there so she could pick up where she left off.
She rushed through the screen door of the four-season porch, hoping Rhylee had gotten distracted by something else and hadn’t paid any attention to the paper on the counter. This had been hard for Danny, and she’d blown it already.
Heart thumping in her chest, Kenzie came to an abrupt stop when she saw Rhylee sitting on the wicker love seat, scrolling on her phone. There was no sign of papers next to her or on the matching wicker table. Her mother had loved wicker for the porch.
“I forgot my key and the spare isn’t under the bear.”
They tried to keep a spare key under the chainsaw carving of a bear reading a book that sat in the corner of the room.
“Because the last time you forgot your key, you used the spare and put it in your pocket. And now it’s wherever you put the last three spares because you won’t just put one on your key ring. ”
“I will,” Rhylee said, as she had every other time they had this conversation. She stood and followed Kenzie into the house once she’d unlocked the front door.
Kenzie went straight to the counter, dropping her bag and picking up the manuscript pages. “I’ll be right down.”
She made it up the stairs and into her bedroom without her cousin calling her back so she could be nosy about what the papers were. Rhylee was born with a heightened sense of curiosity and very few boundaries when it came to family and close friends.
Kenzie put the pages under her pillow, which she knew was overkill, but at least she wouldn’t worry about anybody else finding them. It had been a very long time since she’d shared a bed with anybody. Then she changed into a clean shirt and redid her ponytail before going back downstairs.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said.
Rhylee looked up from her phone, her eyes narrowing. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“What was all that paper?”
“Nothing important.” She didn’t lie well, so she said it while on her way to pick up her bag so she wouldn’t be looking directly at her cousin.
“Nobody has all that paper anymore. People email everything.”
Kenzie tried to think of the most boring reason possible for having a big stack of paper. “I’m doing a line-by-line read of the insurance documents for the restaurant because I might change companies, but I want to make sure the coverages are apples to apples.”
“Boring.”
She knew that would work.
They didn’t live in the most exciting place, so Rhylee might think her cousin helping a famous author get his next book unstuck was something worth talking about.
Word would get around and, inevitably, it would end up on Facebook.
One online game of Telephone later, there was a potential for articles about Dan Kowalski not being able to write his book.
Sure, some of the locals would probably notice how much time they spent talking at the restaurant and there would be whispers about it, but Kenzie had a hunch he’d rather people assume they were interested in each other on a romantic level than guess he had writer’s block.
I need you, Kenzie.
I really think you and I will be great together.
She busied herself rummaging through her bag, pretending to look for the keys that were in her pocket, so Rhylee wouldn’t see the flush on her cheeks that Kenzie knew blossomed every time those words echoed through her head.
Even though she’d spent pretty much the entirety of her life in a very small town, Kenzie wasn’t naive.
She liked to think she had more than her share of common sense, and that common sense said Danny wasn’t above using those eyes and some flirting to charm her into helping him.
It was more logical an explanation than him being swept off his feet by a woman he got to talk to in fits and starts between her refilling coffee cups and delivering food.
She was okay with that. But she’d be less okay with it if the other people in her life started needling her about it—especially Rhylee, who’d been after her to date more.
Or to date at all, actually. While she’d gone out with a few guys since she and Hunter parted ways, she’d never made it to a third date. She didn’t have the time or the energy.
No, she definitely didn’t want to talk about Danny with anybody, and she’d be keeping this manuscript to herself.
Once they were in Rhylee’s car, going down the road, her cousin glanced over at her. “So what’s going on with you and that Kowalski brother?”
That didn’t take long. And the fact Rhylee waited until she was strapped into a moving vehicle and couldn’t escape the conversation wasn’t lost on her. “I served him a turkey sandwich and some soup yesterday.”
“Don’t even try that with me. Uncle Frank told my dad he hasn’t seen you so interested in a man since high school.”
“Sure, because my dad’s an expert in flirting. And I suppose your dad told your mom, who then told you?”
“No, I was in the pantry trying to steal some baking powder from my mom’s stash, and my dad walked into the kitchen talking to your dad on speakerphone, so I hid and eavesdropped.” Rhylee nudged Kenzie’s arm with her elbow. “Uncle Frank thinks you might be a thing.”
She snorted. “I’m not sure which is more ridiculous—you hiding in the pantry, eavesdropping on our dads, or my dad thinking Danny Kowalski wants to be a thing with a woman who lives and works with her father and has about four free hours per week.”
“I think your dad picking up on it means there actually has to be something there. He might be into you, Kenz.”
Kenzie rolled her eyes and changed the subject to which store they were hitting first because she couldn’t tell her cousin the truth. Danny Kowalski was into her, but not the way she thought.
He was into her being a sounding board. And that was all.
* * *
Danny dreamed of Kenzie. He woke sweaty and aching and desperately trying to hold on to the incredibly sexy naked woman already fading from his memory like wisps of smoke.
He closed his eyes again, but she was gone, leaving behind nothing but a lingering frustration. This book had kept him tied up in knots for so long, he’d been neglecting other parts of his life, and now was not a good time for that neglected sex drive to come roaring back to life.