Enough.
“Kat, stop.”
She did, surprisingly, without fuss, and turned, her body inches from his, face lifted. Man, he could kiss her again. But that wasn’t what he’d meant. Was that what she wanted?
No. It had messed up too much before.
Darren’s reminder rang like a warning bell in his ears. Do not stir up nor awaken love . . . Had he learned nothing? He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not yet. There was still too much unsaid, too much yet to be determined to keep putting either of their hearts in that vulnerable state.
“Now I need to tell you something.”
She stiffened a little, the wind tossing her hair in her eyes, and he reached out to tuck it behind her ear before he could stop himself. “It’s not bad. Just news.”
The anxiety in her eyes faded, and she shook her head. “Then don’t. Let’s just . . . walk. And talk. About regular stuff.” Hope filled her gaze. “Like we agreed before dinner.”
Regular stuff. Right. Was that even possible for them anymore?
He hesitated, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sure. Let’s go.” They began walking, sand kicking up against the back of his slacks and sliding into the heels of his shoes.
She must not be over her confession about Thad from dinner if she was still trying to avoid any serious or heavy conversation. He’d thought he’d done well, hiding his anger, when it’d taken everything in him not to turn the table over and go running to the studio to find the preppy punk’s address. Kat wasn’t taking the issue as seriously as she should, but he could see her point in the awkward factor. If she didn’t win, it would become a moot point.
But if she did, how could she go to New York to work for him? What if Thad tried something more aggressive on his own territory? Or . . . what if he somehow actually won her over?
The thought threatened to make his seafood gumbo return to the sea.
“You miss your team?”
Kat’s quiet question thankfully redirected his thoughts, and he shook off the lingering doubts. “Yeah, a bunch. I’m constantly wondering if my coaches are remembering to do this or that with the boys. It’s like I’ve been gone a month instead of less than a week.” He laughed, picturing the headache his guys must be giving the assistant coaches, then sobered at the thought of Tyler and all the unknowns. “Just hope I don’t go back to a mess.”
“Your assistants have learned from the best.” It was Kat’s turn to elbow him in the ribs, and he basked in relief at the simple gesture. She was trying. “They’ll be fine. All of them.”
“And Tyler, and his dad . . .” His voice trailed off, and he ran his hand over his jaw. Was the kid’s old man behaving himself? Would he be coming home to more drama, more fires to extinguish?
Or had everyone somehow survived in his absence?
He wasn’t really sure which scenario he considered worse. “It’s just a lot at one time.”
“For everyone,” Kat agreed, looking off to the ocean, the wind whipping her hair around her bare shoulders. He started to wrap his arm around her to warm her, then thought better of it. The less physical contact right now, the better. He kept his hands shoved in his pockets.
“You really love what you do, don’t you?” The words came out of Kat more like a statement than a question. “You practically light up when you’re talking about your team.”
He smiled down at her, grateful for the upbeat change in conversation, the natural flow between them slowly returning. Smart move, getting him to talk about his boys like this. Somewhat of a default safe topic—one of the things they’d never argued about. “I guess I do, huh? Sort of the way you do when you talk about cupcakes.”
Like she did about cupcakes.
Like she did about cupcakes?
Kat’s heart squeezed in a vise, pulsing, pounding, throbbing to escape . . . all of it. All the stress of the last few days, all the changes, all the unknowns swelled inside her rib cage and pressed. She was going to burst. Right there in the sand.
She stopped walking, panic gripping her voice tighter than her sudden hold on Lucas’s arm. She didn’t even remember grabbing him, but she held on for dear life. “I don’t get it, Lucas. What’s wrong with me?” The sand swirled beneath their feet, and she choked in air. A panic attack, on the beach? She was losing it. Had lost it.
Gone.
But they were right. What if they were right?
“What do you mean?” Confusion clouded Lucas’s face, and he gripped her arms in return, as if afraid she might fall over if he didn’t. And maybe she would. His simple statement had driven her to a terrifying realization that left her wobbly. Light-headed.
Were her parents right? Was she that . . . hollow? Like a cored-out cupcake?
She struggled to put words to her fears, to pass air through her lungs. “You’re passionate about a sport and teamwork and kids . . .” She sucked in another gulp of oxygen, the salty wind taking her panic down from Code Red to a shade of burgundy. “Some of those kids are even underprivileged. They need you, depend on you. And the comparison in my life is—cupcakes?”
His head dipped low, brows pinched. “No. I mean, yes. But no. Kat, it’s not like that.”
But it was. Wasn’t it? He couldn’t even really say otherwise, or he would have by now, instead of staring at her with that expression she couldn’t quite decipher.
Didn’t really want to try.
She sank down to the sand, curling her legs sideways beneath her, staring at the ocean. She picked up a handful of the tiny grains and held them tightly, the contact somehow soft and coarse all at once. It slowed her raging pulse enough to think, to process. Lucas knew who he was, what he wanted. What he was supposed to do. He had a flavor—one imprinted deep and not subject to change. He was what he was.
And he was amazing at all of it.
She looked up at him, wishing she could guard her heart—guard him—against the storm stirring inside. “You’re settled, Lucas. You’re exactly where you need to be.” A fact that wasn’t changing, whether or not she asked him to come to New York. He wouldn’t go. It would break her to even try, to set herself up for obvious rejection. “You’ve found your calling in life.”
And who was she to mess that up?
Even for love.
The sand slowly drizzled through her clenched fingers.
Lucas lowered himself to his knees in the sand beside her, his eyes searching hers, confusion still lingering around the edges. No wonder. She’d done a complete 180 on him, but she couldn’t help it. Los Angeles, this competition, this constant proximity to Lucas, were all doing a number on her soul. How much longer could she keep this up?
She was breaking—one uncertain crack at a time. Where would she finally crumble? What would be left of her when she did?
“I’m flavorless, Lucas.” She didn’t mean to say it out loud, or maybe she did. Either way, it was there between them now, embarrassing and honest and real. “I’m worse than vanilla.” At least vanilla was a classic, a staple, dependable. Something everyone could count on and default to. “I have nothing real to offer.” Lucas opened his mouth, then closed it, probably afraid to even try to touch this one. She didn’t blame him. She couldn’t quite touch it herself.
But then he spoke. “Kat, you’re not flavorless. If anything, you’re so full of flavor, there hasn’t been a name invented for it yet.”
His words stirred a longing she kept futilely trying to kill, and once again, she pushed it aside, desperate to let it grow but terrified that if it did it’d choke the life out of her.
“Look at me.” He gripped her chin lightly, just long enough to turn her face toward him, then let go. But the feel of his fingers on her face lingered, just like these words of his would. “Some days, you’re like a mocha cupcake with espresso frosting. Driven and productive and on a mission to help someone, to show someone else love. You’re jacked up and impossible to stop.”
She snorted.
“I’m serious.”
His face grew thoughtful, and he continued. “Then other days, you’re more like a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese. Classic, and rich, and leaving a mark on everything you touch.” He was touching her face again, eyes shadowed with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. “Red velvet is classy and always unforgettable.”
Her breath caught, and her heart ached—physically ached—for those words to be true.
“Then other times, you’re a tiramisu cupcake. A little sassy but always elegant, always a favorite.” His voice trailed off. “Trust me, Kat. You’re far from dull or invisible. You have a purpose.”
With the end of his monologue came the rush of the too-familiar insecurity. She forced her tone to sound casual, despite the fear pushing and shoving into the crevices of her thoughts. “Then why does it seem like it’s so easy for everyone else to go after what they love but I have to constantly fight for it?” Maybe he really saw her as all those things, but did anyone else? Why did his opinion not mean enough?
Probably because she needed to believe in herself before she let someone else.
He leaned toward her, his shoulder touching hers, and she wanted to grab on and never let go. But she had to let go, whether or not she wanted to. Fate was happening, right now, and she couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop it any more than she could count how many grains of sand she’d just held, or how many she’d released, or how many clung to the folds of her dress. The dress that was supposed to have been magical.
More like cursed.
His voice shook through the fear. “Fighting makes you stronger, Kat. If it was easy, it wouldn’t mean as much.”
Then why didn’t it mean more now? She was one round away from getting her dream, from getting to start over in a new city with new people, where she could bake whatever she wanted and begin her career outside of the shadow of her family and the expectations and the disappointments.
But her heart . . . it was listless. Disengaged. Detached.
None of it meant nearly as much as she’d hoped.
Would it ever? Was she chasing the wrong dream?
What else was there?
“We both grew up in Bayou Bend, Lucas. So what’s the difference?” She pleaded with him for an answer, knowing he couldn’t truly give it. They were different people, after all. Different journeys, different experiences. Somehow, Bayou Bend had become ideal for Lucas, offering security, purpose, and small-town fame, as well as a sense of direction that he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—get elsewhere. A perfect fit, like a puzzle piece nestled snugly into place.
Yet for her, Bayou Bend meant staying stifled. Unable to breathe. Unable to be.
“The difference? It’s all what you make it, Kat.” He moved her hair out of her face, and she turned her cheek into his palm. His touch lingered for a moment before he planted his hand back in the sand, propping his weight. “You have a history in Bayou Bend. That can be a good thing with the right perspective.”
“You know my family, Lucas. It’s not a matter of perspective; it’s a matter of what is.” She drew a ragged breath, playing with the strap of her new shoe, knowing if she made eye contact she’d fall facedown in the sand and never get up. “I still have no idea if people would ever actually like my own cupcakes or would feel obligated because of my last name. Because of my aunt. My bloodline.”
“Blood is important.” His voice sobered, almost lost on the wind as he gazed out at the dark waves, churning foaming whitecaps. For once, Lucas didn’t seem to have all the answers. For once, he appeared like he might need a few himself.
Imagine that.
Los Angeles was taking them both through the wringer.
“Not everyone has blood, Kat.” He looked at her then, and years of pain and a longing for what he’d never have back filled his eyes. Sometimes she forgot he lost his mom; he never talked about her death. Never talked about how truly alone he was without anyone besides her, a few friends like Darren Phillips, his team, and his coworkers. “Some of us have to make strangers into family, because it’s all we have.”
Ironic.
“And some of us have family who are more like strangers.” Kat shook her head, pushing her hair away from her face with both hands, holding it up into a ponytail as reality crashed like the waves. Overwhelming. Endless. “Guess that’s the difference.”
And would always be. Whether she left for New York or stayed behind. Whether Lucas came with her or stayed behind.
Some things would simply never change.
Despite her heart’s desperate cry for everything to do just that.
twenty-three
So much for no heavy conversation that night.
Lucas walked Kat from the cab through the hotel lobby and into the elevator, leaving a trail of sand along the carpeted path. Her bare legs were still covered in goose bumps from the nighttime breeze, her shoes still dangling from her fingertips as she pressed the elevator button for their floor.
He leaned against the wall and studied her as the elevator began a slow climb. Her pale complexion, makeup all but erased from time and wind and tears. Slight black smudges under her eyes where the conversation had gotten the best of both of them earlier. Yet her eyes, startling blue and just as striking with or without makeup, still had the power to stop his heart in his chest.
She turned the full force of her gaze on him then, her eyes full of the same questions and pleas for assurance that he asked of her. Assurances that he couldn’t supply, couldn’t answer. Wanted to take. Wanted to give.
Impasse.
At least until tomorrow’s competition played out, and they saw what choices were really before them. It would be hard to make a move until then, despite his heart still insisting he come clean, tell her about his land. Tell her about his big plans, and beg her to want the same thing. To give up her dream and marry him instead. Make him her new dream.
Why wasn’t he enough? The elevator dinged, announcing their floor, and he walked Kat to her room. He figured the cleaning lady wasn’t around this time to see how he’d made it right. But had he, really? Because the lines of defeat around Kat’s eyes suggested otherwise.
They’d tried. So hard.
Just to come full circle back to this?
It was beyond depressing.
She fumbled with her key card, then flipped it around before sliding it into the lock. “Thanks for dinner.” She wouldn’t look at him again, and he was halfway disappointed, halfway relieved. He couldn’t stand the pain in her eyes, knowing his own reflected right back.
“No problem.” Except, there were a ton of problems, but they’d already talked a useless labyrinth around those.
“Good night.” Kat attempted a smile that fell miserably short, opened her door, tossed her shoes inside, and let it fall shut behind her with a solid click.
If only that deadbolt was the only thing between them.
He shuffled toward his end of the hall, his heart as heavy as those tackling dummies he made his guys use in practice, and he reached for his own key card in his wallet.
No.
He turned back toward her room, working into a near jog. He couldn’t end things like this between them for the entire night. Not with too much unspoken, with so much said. Neither of them would sleep, and the big finale was tomorrow, and he might not want Kat to win, but he sure enough wasn’t about to let her sabotage herself from lack of sleep. Not because of him.
He’d done enough sabotaging on this trip.
He pounded on her door, shifting his weight anxiously from foot to foot. Except he didn’t know what he was going to say to fix it, to break the ice, to bring back more than a decade’s worth of friendship. There wasn’t a sentence in the world that could reverse time, or speed it up, or do whatever the heck needed to be done to get them through this impossible valley.
He’d think of something, maybe, when he saw her again.
The door opened, and she squinted at him, still wearing that dangerous black dress. “You forget something?”
&
nbsp; No. More like he needed to remember.
He reached across the frame and pulled her into a kiss.
She didn’t even hesitate, just melted into his embrace like butter in a skillet. She pressed closer against him, and he tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. All the anxiety, all the fear, all the doubts, slipped away as he returned her breath and she, his.
Her hands slid up his back, digging into his shirt, a soft sigh escaping her lips that nearly melted him right back. This wasn’t an accidental, celebratory kiss.
This was a kiss.
This was everything he’d ever wanted, all wrapped up in one little black dress and one big moment in time that he never wanted to end.
But he had to end it.
Because somehow, they were completely in Kat’s room now, and the door was shut behind them, and his hands were sliding with her against the wall. He grasped her arms by her shoulders and pushed himself away, just far enough to separate, to breathe, to clear his head before he did something stupid.
Really stupid.
“We can’t—just . . . wait. Hold on.” He couldn’t think, just wanted to kiss her again, and there she was, slipping back into his arms, pressing her soft lips against his cheek. “Kat.” The groan in his voice didn’t even sound like his own, it was so full of torment.
She grinned, finally taking him seriously, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Not the bed.”
She stood up quickly, leaning instead against the open bathroom door. “Better?”
“For now.” He kept one hand on the doorknob leading out of her room, refusing to allow himself permission to let go of it. Clarity was slowly returning, along with a rush of oxygen and a sense of euphoria he couldn’t tame.
But he had to. He wouldn’t compromise her, or their friendship, or whatever this was called now. Not even for that. Because morning would come, and nothing would look the same. He wouldn’t ruin it.
All’s Fair In Love and Cupcakes Page 21
