by Jae
Fran nodded as if she had already suspected that answer. “Can I ask why not?”
“I don’t think it’s the right job for me.”
“Other priorities?” Fran peered at her over the rim of her glasses, and for a moment, Ky thought maybe her boss suspected that her focus was very much on her private life right now. Then a smile deepened the lines around Fran’s eyes. “Or is it the paperwork?”
Ky laughed. “That too. I just feel like all those forms and checklists would stifle my creativity. I’d rather stay out here, in the kitchen. But I do know who’d be perfect for the job.”
“I’m listening.”
Ky pointed at Lilia, who was talking a grumpy teen into taking an orange.
Fran slid her glasses back up her nose. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
* * *
That evening, Regan stared at the first batch of potato croquettes that she’d just dumped onto paper towels to drain. Ugh. She had conducted chemistry experiments that looked more appetizing. In desperate need of some help, she reached for her phone.
Um, Dad? The recipe you texted me earlier this week… Are the panzarotti supposed to look like this? She took a snapshot and sent it to her father.
Her dad answered with several cry-laughing emojis. Not exactly. They’re supposed to be torpedo-shaped. Why isn’t Kylie cooking?
Regan froze with her thumbs hovering over the phone. She and Ky had agreed not to tell anyone about their new relationship yet, but she didn’t want to lie to her father—and she knew Ky wouldn’t want her to either. Because I’m trying to surprise her with one of Anonn’s dishes for our date. She held her breath until her father’s reply popped up.
Date? Is this still part of the dating experiment your friends talked you into?
No, Regan answered. Before she could add more, her phone rang.
Sighing, she swiped her finger across the screen.
“So your mother was right,” her father said. “She insists the two of you had a glow about you when you climbed down from the tree house last Sunday.”
Regan’s cheeks burned. “Dad! There was no glow!”
Her father laughed. “I don’t want to know the details. But I’m really happy you finally figured it out. Couldn’t wish for a better daughter-in-law.”
“Jesus, Dad! I said I’m cooking for our date, not our wedding!”
“All right, then. Do you have any of the potato/egg mixture left?”
“Yes,” Regan answered. “I only made a test batch.”
“Why don’t you make Anonn’s potato cake instead? It’s based on the same mixture, and you just put it in the oven in a casserole dish, so it doesn’t have to keep its form.”
Regan blew out a breath. “You’re a lifesaver. Okay, walk me through it—baby steps, please.”
* * *
An hour later, a slightly frazzled Regan bounced up and down in front of Ky’s apartment. After her cooking adventure, she had spent too much time trying to figure out what to wear, so she was running a few minutes late.
She knew it was ridiculous. After all, Ky had seen her in baggy sweatpants, grass-stained jeans, and geeky T-shirts more often than she could count. It was a bit late to suddenly start caring how she looked in front of Ky—but she did.
Truth be told, she had cared for a while. She had already obsessed over what to wear for their first let’s-prove-we-don’t-have-any-chemistry date, when she had taken Ky to La Casa Nostra. She had told herself she was only making an effort because of their friends. God, how oblivious she’d been! That should have been a big, flashing neon sign.
Lilia opened the door and regarded Regan with a smirk. “We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this.”
Regan laughed. Maybe one day they would—when she and Ky would be living together instead. Whoa! Take it easy. No U-Hauls anytime soon!
Lilia escorted her into the apartment. “So is this still part of your little chemistry experiment? Or is this for real?”
Shit. If she continued like this, the entire population of the Portland metro area would know before the week was over.
Before she could decide on a response, the bathroom door swung open, and Ky stepped out.
Regan forgot how to form words other than “wow.”
Ky was wearing the dark gray chinos she’d chosen for their date at La Casa Nostra—why mess with perfection, right? This time, she had paired them with a white button-up shirt with faint vertical stripes. She had rolled up its sleeves past her elbows, and it struck Regan as the sexiest thing she’d ever seen in her life.
Lilia looked back and forth between their faces and laughed. “Well, that answers my question.”
Ky ignored her. She ran her gaze over Regan’s sleeveless wrap dress, lingering on the knee-length hem and the V-neck for a second. “You look stunning.”
The look in her eyes made Regan flush with pleasure. “So do you.”
“Can I wear these?” Ky waggled her foot, which was covered by a white sneaker.
“They’re perfect. There’s no dress code where we are going.”
“Oh, good. Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
As Ky joined her for the walk to the car, the fresh-forest-air scent of her perfume engulfed Regan, and she deeply breathed it in.
They both got in and clicked the seat belts into place, their movements so in sync that they ended up with their faces only a few inches apart.
“Hi,” Ky murmured. “Since Lil now knows, can I kiss you hello?”
Regan loved how Ky always asked before kissing her. Consent was sexy. “Yes.”
Their lips met across the middle console as soon as she’d finished her reply.
Ky’s mouth was incredibly soft. She kissed Regan with a tenderness that made her ache, but there was also an undercurrent of desire buzzing between them.
“Speaking of knowing about us,” Regan said when the kiss finally ended. She sank fully into the driver’s seat so she wouldn’t be distracted by Ky’s lips. “I, um, told my dad about us. He asked, and I didn’t want to lie.” She glanced over to see Ky’s reaction.
A gentle grin tugged on Ky’s lips. “I know.”
“You know? How?”
“I got a text from your mom while I got ready for our date.” Ky pulled her phone from the pocket of her chinos, unlocked it, and held it out to Regan.
Her mother had written only four words: Welcome to the family, followed by a confetti emoji, a party hat emoji, and two bride emojis.
Groaning, Regan thumped her forehead against the steering wheel.
Ky laughed and lightly put her hand on Regan’s back. The warmth of her palm drifted through the thin cotton, heating up Regan’s body. “It’s okay.” More quietly, she added, “It’s kinda nice to be part of a family again.”
Regan took her head off the steering wheel and reached across the console for Ky’s hand. “You always were, and you always will be.”
Ky swallowed audibly, then lifted Regan’s hand to her lips and kissed it.
The emotions vibrating between them were intense, especially for their first real date, but Regan realized she didn’t want it any other way. She left their fingers melded together while she drove them toward her apartment.
* * *
“Ya Hala.”
“No.”
“Redwood.”
“Nope.”
“Oh, I know!” Ky stuck her finger in the air. “The Observatory.”
Regan snorted. “No. Give up. You’ll never guess.”
Ky had thought they were headed toward one of the restaurants on Stark Street, but Regan continued north, then took a right onto Burnside Street and finally a left onto 74th Avenue. They weren’t going to that greasy spoon diner two blocks from Regan’s place, were they? Ky grinned as she imagined them walking in, all dressed up.
But Regan drove past the diner. When she finally stopped the car, they were parked in front of her apartment complex.
“Your place?” Ky sw
allowed.
“Is that okay?” Regan looked uncharacteristically insecure. “I mean, we said we wanted to go somewhere where we won’t run into anyone we know, so…”
“No, it’s fine. It’s great.” Ky had always loved spending time at Regan’s place. She felt more at home there than in her own apartment—because Regan was there. But staying in, with the bedroom readily available, instead of having dinner at a public place would be a lot more intimate and enticing. Was Regan hoping to take things to the next level? And if she was, was Ky ready for that?
Regan studied her intently. “Are you sure?”
Ky pushed her nerves aside. She was being silly. Just because there was a growing, decidedly nonplatonic tension between them didn’t mean they would jump each other’s bones the moment they were alone. Besides, they would be at Regan’s place for Netflix night tomorrow anyway. “Yes. It’s perfect. I don’t even care what we order. As much as I love food, I’m here for you, not for whatever’s on the menu.”
“O ye of little faith. We’re not ordering.”
“You cooked?” Ky was so stunned that she stayed in the car while Regan was already climbing out.
She walked around the car, opened the passenger-side door for Ky, and offered her hand. “I cooked. I wanted tonight to be special.”
Ky’s heart melted into a puddle of goo. She put her concerns aside and slid her hand into Regan’s. When she got out of the car, Regan barely stepped back. They stood so close that their bodies almost brushed, and Ky could feel the heat emanating from Regan. “It already is.”
“Then what has you so tense?” Regan brushed Ky’s bangs out of her eyes.
She should have known she wouldn’t be able to keep it from Regan—not that she wanted to. Ky glanced around. The driveway really wasn’t the place to discuss their love life. “Um, can we maybe talk about it over dinner?”
Regan raised herself up on her tiptoes and placed the softest of kisses on Ky’s lips. “Of course. Let’s go in and check on my creation. It’s in the oven, and I don’t want to tarnish my spotless reputation as a chef by burning it.”
Laughing, Ky let herself be dragged to the door.
Usually, they ate on the couch, but today, Regan had set the table in the dining area. The heavenly scent of sizzling cheese wafted over from the kitchen.
Ky’s mouth watered. “Want me to help with anything?”
“No,” Regan answered. “You cook for hundreds of kids every day. I’ve got this. You just sit and look sexy.”
“I’ll try my best.” Ky slid the chair into a position that allowed her to watch Regan.
Regan turned on romantic music—the album of Jenna Blake’s love ballads—before she went to the kitchen. She drizzled lemon juice and olive oil over the lettuce she must have prepared earlier, carried the bowl to the table, then bent over to peek into the oven.
Ky told her about turning down the promotion to assistant cafeteria manager, but her focus wasn’t on the conversation. Watching Regan move around the kitchen was the most enjoyable thing Ky had done all week. The way the dress swirled with every graceful movement, how she closed a drawer with her hip, her smile whenever their gazes met… Ky couldn’t look away.
“So, no regrets that you turned the promotion down?” Regan asked while she worked.
“None,” Ky answered without hesitation. “It felt right.” Just as right as being here, on a date with Regan.
“Good. I hope you know I don’t care whether you’re a lunch lady or a cafeteria manager as long as you’re happy.”
A ball of emotion lodged in Ky’s throat. Both of her parents had cared too much about status and money, but she knew Regan truly didn’t. “I know. I am happy.”
They looked at each other until the oven timer went off.
Regan opened the oven door, releasing a cloud of steam and a delicious scent. She lifted out a casserole dish and set it on the table between them.
Ky stared at the golden-baked crust. “That looks like the potato cake your grandma used to make.”
“That’s because it is.” With a proud grin, Regan put a generous portion onto Ky’s plate, then served herself before she took a seat. “I hope it tastes like hers too.”
“I’m sure it will,” Ky said. Neither of them had had potato cake since Anonn had died shortly after her husband, and it meant the world to her that Regan had chosen to make it for her.
Regan jumped up. “Oops. I forgot our drinks.”
“Let me get them.” Ky pressed Regan back onto her chair. “That’s one of the many advantages of dating your best friend. I know where the glasses are.”
Regan’s booming laugh filled the apartment, putting a smile on Ky’s face. “Oh, is that the only advantage?”
“No,” Ky said. “I also know where all your ticklish spots are.”
“And that’s an advantage how?”
Ky bit her lip. Her automatic impulse was to hold back the flirty comment that immediately came to mind—probably a result of years…or decades of keeping things strictly platonic. It would take some time and conscious effort to let go of that habit. “Well,” she drawled, “I figure those sensitive spots might also be erogenous zones. And I already know each and every one of them.”
Regan’s eyes went hazy. “Maybe not each and every one,” she said, her voice hoarse. “There might be one or two spots you haven’t…tickled so far.”
Heat rose up Ky’s chest and shot into her cheeks. “Drinks,” she got out.
“Yeah, I could use something cold too. Extra ice in mine, please.”
Grinning, Ky took two glasses from the cabinet and opened the fridge. It was great to know that Regan felt the sizzle between them too.
“Top shelf,” Regan said, her voice almost back to normal now. “I made us a pitcher of the blackberry lemonade you love.”
Aww. Regan had really gone all out for their date.
“So,” Regan said while Ky was pouring them each a glass of lemonade and adding extra ice to both, “what was it that made you so tense earlier?”
Lemonade splashed onto the counter. Ky rushed to the sink to clean up the spill and hide her flushed cheeks.
“Ky?” Regan’s chair scraped over the hardwood floor, then her light footsteps approached. She gently laid her hand on Ky’s back.
Slowly, Ky put the rag down and turned around.
“Are you okay?” Regan soothingly trailed her fingers up and down Ky’s forearm, sending a delicious shiver through Ky’s body.
“I’m fine.” Ky decided to take a page out of Regan’s book and just say what had been on her mind since Regan had pulled into the driveway. “I love having our first real date at your place, where we can both be ourselves. But I know you don’t usually invite anyone over for a date or go to their place unless…um, you’re ready to have more than dinner.”
Regan’s lips formed a startled O.
“It’s not that I don’t want that—eventually,” Ky added quickly. “Believe me, the thought of having dessert in the bedroom is tempting. Very tempting.” Her voice came out in a thick, scratchy whisper. “But I’m not sure we should rush things. Of course, after twenty-five years, no one can really accuse us of that, but…” Ky realized she was rambling and snapped her mouth shut.
“You’re afraid we would mess up what we have if we move too fast,” Regan finished the sentence for her.
Ky stared at her sneakers. One now had a deep purple stain from the blackberry lemonade. “Yeah. I am.”
Gently, Regan tipped up her chin and placed a featherlight kiss on her lips. “Okay. Let’s take things slow, then. I wasn’t planning on dessert in the bedroom when I invited you over anyway.”
Another flush swept up Ky’s neck. Great. Now she had made an ass out of herself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make assumptions.”
Regan chuckled. “Nah. You weren’t that far off. You know me. I’m the go-with-your-impulses kind of woman. I didn’t invite you over for sex, but I don’t think I would have protest
ed too much if you’d suggested a nonplatonic sleepover.”
The flush now reached the tips of Ky’s ears, but it was no longer only embarrassment that heated her skin.
Regan stroked Ky’s cheek with the back of her fingers. “And just for the record: Whatever I did when I was dating other people has nothing to do with you and me. All my dating rules went out the window the moment I, um, started dating my best friend.”
For a second, Ky thought she had wanted to say something else—that she’d fallen in love with her. Don’t read anything into it. You are the one who wants to take it slow, remember? “Ditto. This is completely uncharted territory for me too.”
“But we’ll navigate it together—at a pace we’re both comfortable with, okay?”
Ky blinked against the sudden burning in her eyes. “Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?”
A rare blush dusted Regan’s cheeks. “Tell me that after you’ve tasted my dinner.” She took one of the glasses and nodded at Ky to grab the other.
Hand in hand, they went back to the dining area and took a seat at the table.
Ky cut off a small piece of potato cake with her fork and slid it into her mouth. The potatoes, mozzarella, parmesan, and ham blended together in perfect harmony, exactly the way Ky remembered.
“How is it?” Regan asked instead of tasting it for herself. “Do you still think I’m wonderful, or has this establishment just lost a few stars?”
Ky let out a hum. “You get top ratings both for being wonderful and for dinner.” She took another forkful. “This is better than anything they serve at The Observatory.”
“Good. Because I wasn’t about to take you there and have Flirty Waitress interfere with our date.” Regan shoved her fork into the potato cake, then chewed vigorously.
Ky couldn’t help the broad grin stretching across her face. “God, I’m so slow sometimes! You were jealous, weren’t you?”
“Maybe a tiny bit.” Regan held the thumb and index finger of her free hand a fraction of an inch apart. When Ky gave her a doubtful look, she widened the distance between her fingers. “Okay, maybe more than a bit. But I convinced myself I was just pissed because it was disrespectful. After all, Blondie couldn’t know our date was only a little chemistry experiment.”
