That Secret Crush

by Quinn, Meghan

  “Not necessarily. Now go sit, maybe turn on some music or something so we don’t have to awkwardly listen to each other moan when we have this tasty little dish.”

  “I don’t moan when I eat.”

  He glances down at my crotch. “You sure as hell moan when I eat.”

  My face flames, and heat rushes through my body as images of Reid between my thighs strike me all at once in a flood of naughty memories. Damn him.

  Laughing, he nods toward the table. “Go on. Put on some of that Shawn Mendes shit—he’s catchy and upbeat.”

  “You’ve been hanging out with Brig too much.”

  “That’s what happens when I fuck things up with you. I’m forced to hang out with other people and pick up their bad habits.”

  Rolling my eyes, I go to my phone and look through my Spotify playlists. “Yeah, I heard you’ve been having some movie nights with your parents.”

  “Jesus, are there no secrets in this town?”

  “Nope.”

  “Let me guess, Harper told you?”

  I pick a simple crooner playlist that’s a mix of Louis Armstrong, Doris Day, and Frank Sinatra. “I keep my sources to myself.”

  “It was Harper.” He looks over his shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”

  “If you’re amping it up, it better be good.”

  “Be prepared to get your tits blown off, babe.”

  I would be laughing at his statement if I wasn’t so caught off guard by his term of endearment. Babe. I don’t have much time to think about it, though, as he spins around and holds out a little tray full of fresh apples, what look to be cake bites, and donuts. In the center is a pot with two sticks coming out of the top. In his other hand he carries the plates.

  All that was in his bag?

  He sets the tray down, and the smell of warm blueberry caramel floats in the air.

  “You brought me fondue?”

  “Not just any kind of fondue but a special recipe I plan on using to shock the hell out of your brother tomorrow, as a final add-on to the menu. Donut holes made from scratch along with the pound cake bites and, well, the apples. I just sliced those, but I sliced them myself.”

  “Impressive,” I joke. “And the caramel?”

  “My secret recipe. Blueberry caramel as an ode to Maine, with a rich, sweet texture. It’s really fucking good, and since I maxed out my parent-time quota this week, I thought I’d share it with you.”

  “I wasn’t your first choice?” I ask, teasing, but his face grows serious.

  “You know you’re always my first choice, with everything.”

  And I believe that. After what he showed me yesterday, the space he created for me, I know that’s the truth, and accepting it chips away another piece of the wall I erected around my heart the night he broke it.

  Needing to take the conversation in a less intense direction, I ask, “So you’re surprising Eric with this tomorrow? You should wait until Friday and have it at the Knight and Port gathering—really shock him.”

  “I thought about it.” He hands me a skewer. “But then I didn’t want to throw your brother off completely in front of all of the new employees. He’s not keen on surprises, so I figured I’d have it on the table when he comes over tomorrow. But I want your approval first—let me know it’s good enough.”

  “My approval, huh? Well, I’m not going to take it easy on you. I’m going to tell it like it is. If this is crap, I’ll let you know.” I skewer an apple slice, then dip it and bring it to my mouth. “I don’t want you selling—” I take a bite. “Oh heavenly mother.” I chew. “Oh my God, what the hell is in this caramel? Crack?” I look him dead in the eyes. “Did you put crack in this?”

  Laughing, he shakes his head. “Lots of butter and the freshest blueberries.”

  I dip my apple and take another bite. “Seriously, this is so good.”

  Brow furrowed, he looks at the caramel pot and then back up at me. “You just double-dipped.”

  “So?” I shrug, dipping again.

  “You contaminated it. Now I can’t have any.”

  “Oh please.” I roll my eyes as I chew. “Your tongue has licked the back of my throat. You’ll survive.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know where that mouth has been,” he teases.

  “Nowhere since you broke up with me,” I shoot back, picking up a donut and popping it in my mouth. Just as good. Seriously, he’s a genius.

  “Wait, what?” With a donut halfway to his mouth, he stares at me, shocked. “I thought . . .”

  “You thought wrong.” I pop a soaked piece of pound cake in my mouth and nearly drool. “This very well might be my new favorite thing. Seriously, Reid, be prepared to make a lot of this.”

  “Wait, can we go back to what you were saying about the dating thing? I thought you were with Oliver?”

  “We’re just friends. Do you really think I would be out dating people right after we broke up?”

  “Shit.” He blows out a rough breath and then pulls on the back of his hat. “That . . .” He chuckles. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that means I won’t have to fight anyone to get you back.”

  “Not true,” I say, glancing over at him. “You have to fight yourself, and that will be the biggest battle of them all.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  REID

  “Do you need any help?” my mom asks, placing her hand on my back and looking over one of the buffets of food that stretch across five six-foot-long tables spread across the house.

  “I think we’re good.” I stand back and scan the appetizer table, hands on my hips. “Shit, do you think we have enough food?”

  “Oh, I think there’s plenty. You’re only having thirty people over.”

  “But do we have too many options? These are just the appetizers, and there are fifteen different options.”

  My mom studies the table. “I’m not quite sure I can answer that for you. I love options, but you’re the expert here. I’m sure you have the perfect amount.” She gives me a bright smile before strolling away.

  It’s the perfect mom answer but not the brutal honesty I was looking for. When I was paring down the menu with Eric, I pushed to make more cuts, but he was adamant about keeping everything. Now that I’m looking it all over, I’m having second thoughts, especially since we barely managed to prepare all the food today.

  “It smells amazing in here,” Dad says, coming up next to me. “I might have snuck some of those Dorito mac and cheese bites when you weren’t looking. I’m not even going to apologize for it. Where did you come up with Doritos as the bread crumbs to fry everything in?”

  “That was Eve, actually. It’s her mac and cheese recipe with a twist. We turned them into bites. In her recipe, she drenches the top with Doritos, so we used it as the batter.”

  “That girl is smart. We need to keep her around, keep her happy.”

  “Yes we do,” I answer, looking over the appetizers one more time as my dad bumps his shoulder against mine.

  “That means you. You need to keep her happy.”

  “Working on it, Dad.”

  “Really?” he asks, looking pleasantly surprised.

  “I hope so.” Needing to confide in someone other than Brig, who is far too emotional about love, I say, “I’m actually kind of scared of it all. I mean, I want her, Dad. She’s it for me, and I know that now. Breaking up with her was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, but now that we’re about to open the restaurant, I still have to wonder if I can do it all. Can I be the man she deserves while running a kitchen and training a staff at the same time?”

  Taking me by the shoulder, Dad guides me to the dining table, and we both take a seat. He leans back and says, “When we were opening the Lobster Landing, I had the exact same fears and doubts. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to handle it all, and there were many nights that I lay awake, anxiety eating me alive. I was putting everything we had at risk. When
I asked your grandpa Clark for your mom’s hand, I promised him that I would always take care of her. The Landing was a gamble, and if it didn’t work out, I would be breaking that promise. I knew we had something special, but I didn’t ever believe it would get to this point, where my children are taking it over and helping expand the brand into so much more.”

  “But you didn’t have a failure on your résumé.”

  “I wish I did.”

  “What?” My brow pulls together. “Why would you?”

  “Because failure is what makes you grow, become better. I was laying it all on the line with no experience, with no one telling me my idea needed tweaking, needed massaging. I was going in blind, and that was terrifying. And trust me, I had my failures along the way, some that threatened my marriage. It wasn’t easy, but with each speed bump, I grew stronger and stronger.” He leans forward and grips my shoulders. “It’s good you’re afraid because that means you care. I would be concerned if there wasn’t that underlying fear driving you to be the best.”

  “And what about Eve? She’s so—God, Dad—she’s perfect. She’s so strong, so confident, and most of the time I don’t think I could ever be enough for her.”

  That garners a full-on laugh from my dad as he shakes his head. “Boy, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I was the same way with your mom. She’s simmered down since she’s had you kids, but when I first met her, she was a firecracker. Always busting my balls, challenging me. And I liked it because she pushed me to be a better man. That’s what Eve is to you: your counterpart in this life, the one who is going to help lift you up when you need it and ground you when your head is in the sky. You’re a dreamer like me, son. Deny it all you like, but you need a levelheaded woman to tame your wild soul.”

  “And you think I can handle it all—being there for Eve and the restaurant?”

  “If I didn’t think you could, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But there’s one thing you need to realize, Reid. You are better with her. Being with Eve isn’t going to hinder you; it’s going to enhance your life.”

  I glance toward the front door as our new employees start filtering in. Eric is greeting them like the good guy he is. This all started with him, with his insistence that a relationship would kill the restaurant. But I think there was something he was missing, something he didn’t quite understand when he asked me to stop dating Eve. He doesn’t know how much his sister enriches my life with her sharp tongue, intelligent mind, and thoughtful words. As I watch him shaking hands and chatting, I realize I need to show him just how much I need her if I’m going to be the best version of myself.

  I turn back to my dad. “Thank you, for everything.”

  “No need to thank me when I can see it in your eyes. Now go greet our employees. We have some food to eat.”

  “I think that’s the last of it,” Eve says, coming up beside me and leaning against the counter.

  “Shit, you scared me. I thought you left with Eric.”

  Eric left half an hour ago and took all the extra food to Snow Roast, where Ruth was kind enough to let us have an impromptu gathering for a few friends who wanted to sample the menu. I stayed behind to help my parents clean. I thought I was on my own, washing dishes as my parents retired for the night—but Eve just proved me wrong.

  “I did. I helped him carry the food, but then I came back—wanted to help you clean up. Your parents were kind enough to host; I didn’t want to leave their house trashed.”

  I rinse off the platter I’ve been scrubbing and stick it over on the towels I laid out to help dry everything. “Thank you, but I think I have it covered if you want to go back to Snow Roast.”

  She picks up a dish towel and starts drying one of the dishes I already washed. “Nah. Eric doesn’t need me. He’s having a great time catching up with everyone. I really think he’s been in his element since he’s moved back and started working with you again. I can’t remember the last time I’ve heard so much happiness in his voice. I feel like he was barely living when he was in Boston, but being back here, with you, with me . . . it’s reawakened his passion, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that. Knight and Port means so much to him, and all he wants is to see it succeed.”

  “We all do. I have a good feeling about it. There’s so much passion coming from all different directions, and when you have this many people working their asses off to put something together, only great things can come from it.”

  Pausing, she takes a second to study me. “That’s not the normal, negative Reid I’m used to.”

  “People can change.”

  “I guess so.” She smiles and picks up a delicate blue willow-patterned plate to dry. “Oh my gosh, your mom still has this plate?” Churchill China, a coveted “artifact” in the Knightly household, it’s worth more than anyone would want to pay for a plate. There are five left in the house, and two of them have had to be glued back together.

  “Yeah, and even though it keeps breaking over and over again, she finds a way to superglue it back together each and every time.”

  “I can still see the look in your eyes when we accidentally broke it. You, Eric, and I were fighting over who had dibs on a batch of cookies, right? We were all pulling on it and somehow dropped it at the same time.”

  “I can still hear the crash in my head. I thought I was going to puke when I saw it cracked on the ground.”

  She laughs, such a beautiful sound. “You went so pale that I thought you were going to puke too. And because your mom has supersonic ears, she came running downstairs to see what happened. The look on her face still scares me to this day.”

  “That’s when Satan oozes from her pores—when someone fucks with her special Churchill China. They were my grandmother’s, so she cherishes those things. And that day, I broke one. I really thought that was the end for me. Dead at thirteen.”

  “We didn’t come over for two weeks—we were too scared she was going to slit our throats with the broken pieces.”

  Honestly, it’s not that huge of an exaggeration. At the time, they were her most valued possessions, and I was shocked she let us use them for the gathering tonight. But when she handed me one of the plates, she insisted they’ve always brought good luck to those who served on them, and she wanted to make sure we had all the luck on our side.

  “I’m pretty sure she was planning all of our deaths, even matched up our schedules with your mom so she knew when to strike.”

  “And she did, on Halloween.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. How could I have forgotten about that?

  Eric, Eve, and I liked to trick-or-treat as teenagers because, honestly, we liked candy, and no one cared that we were too old. They were just happy we weren’t getting into trouble somewhere else.

  We would try to hit up all the houses in town and then go to the outskirts, where the houses are pretty huge and the families would hand out king-size bars. Only the brave went out to the woods since it was always so spooky, but it was worth it.

  Since the houses were so far apart, we would bribe Griffin to drive us around in Dad’s van and pay him in candy. He never complained since he and Claire would just hang out in the car and make out until we got back.

  A few weeks after the plate incident, we were trick-or-treating, and after we made it all the way to the Carlsons’ hilltop mansion, we went back to the van to hit up the next house. I reached for the door handle and opened it up, and out shot a screeching woman wearing a black cloak and a mask, who tackled all three of us to the ground as she leaped out of the car.

  I don’t think I’d ever been more scared in my life as the three of us tumbled down the hill, a screaming lady hot on our heels. We got all the way to the bottom, and I was on the verge of a serious mental breakdown when she started laughing. And that’s when I heard her: my mom.

  She laughed for a very long time, and so did Griffin and Claire, who’d helped her to plan the entire thing.

  “Remember how we had a ha
rd time opening car doors after that?” I ask.

  “I wouldn’t do it for so long, and my mom got really irritated with me. Of course she wasn’t mad at your mom. Nope, she just said, ‘Next time don’t break one of Mrs. Knightly’s plates, and she won’t have to scare you out of your pants.’ At least we learned a lesson. From then on, Eric and I only used paper plates.”

  “It was a smart move on your end. But there was something that stuck out at me that night—something I will never, ever forget.”

  “Eric’s girly scream?”

  “Well, yeah.” I laugh. “But I also remember that as we were tripping and rolling down the hill, I was trying to grab onto anything that would get me away from the crazy lady, and I grabbed your boob for the first time.”

  She lets out a deep, hearty laugh. “Oh my God, you would remember that.”

  “It was the first time I ever touched Eve Roberts’s boob—of course I remember it.”

  “You make it seem like you had a crush on me or something.”

  My smile falters. Does she really not know? It’s been over ten years. We spent half of our childhood together. All of the sleepovers when I’d sneak over to her room and we’d talk after Eric fell asleep, all the times we’d stand up for each other, all of the times she caught me staring at her while we were at the beach. Does she really not know?

  “Eve, I’ve had a crush on you for as long as I can remember. You were the epitome of my dream girl.”

  She shakes her head. “You don’t need to lie to me. I remember our childhood quite vividly.”

  “Do you?”

  “I do.” She sets down a dish and crosses her arms before she props a hip against the counter and gives me a stare. “I remember every single girl you dated, from Kelsey to Lydia to Hillary. I remember the conversations you’d have with Eric about every single one of them. I remember the gossip that went around school about your conquests. The girls fawned over you, vied for your attention, scooped you up every time you were single for more than a second. It was a rotating door of girls. And then you got weird—you barely even looked at me after a while. So I know you’re lying when you say you had a crush on me because if that was the case, and with your track record, we would have at least gone out on a date when we were juniors.”