by Seana Kelly
His cheeks turned a charming pink. “Yeah, see, mostly I just looked down and watched my feet. I could see a few steps ahead. Sometimes I bounced off poles and stuff, but I was wearing a helmet so it was cool. My parents usually held my hand and looked out for me.” He shook his head. “I was convinced that if I wore the helmet every day, eventually the Patriots would have to let me on the team.” He shuffled his feet and tapped his order pad against his leg. “I didn’t realize that skinny guys who barely top five-ten don’t get drafted into the NFL. My dad seemed huge at the time, so I figured I’d be huge one day, too.”
Connor chuckled. “Well, now, by your dad’s standards, you are.”
Kenny smiled. “Yep, you’re right. I got Dad beat, at least.” He held his order pad up again. “Anyway, thanks for that little walk down memory lane, Mr. Cavanaugh.” He looked to me first. “What can I get you, Miss Gallagher?”
“Please, call me Katie.”
Once our orders had been placed, Connor looked down at his buzzing pocket. Excusing himself, he walked out to the porch to receive a call, and I settled back, relaxing into the moment. Connor walked in a moment later, stopped to speak with Kenny and was just sitting down when our drinks arrived.
“All right, Katie mine, tell me about this silly thought of yours.” He took a sip of his beer and leaned back, focusing entirely on me. It was unnerving.
“Really, Connor, it was nothing.” He continued to stare, so I elaborated. “It was just a stray thought.” I blew out a breath and took the dive. “Chaucer and I were walking down Main, and I saw an empty storefront. When I stepped inside—that’s where I met Bear—I could see it was a minuscule diner, barely enough room for eight or ten tables, but it was perfect. I just, I don’t know, I fell in love, and I started to think about having my own little breakfast place, you know? Somewhere I could make pancakes, sausage and eggs, quiches and pastries or whatever. I’d only open for breakfast. I could do all the work myself. Although, I suppose I’d need to hire a server who could wait on people while I cooked. I could just see it all in my head, the decor and the menus.”
I looked up at Connor and said, “It’s just a silly pipe dream. I don’t know anything about running a business. I love to cook, but I wouldn’t know the first thing about starting a restaurant. People are much nicer about food they’re given for free from someone they know. Food they have to pay for from a faceless person in the kitchen?” I shrugged. “Like I said, a fleeting thought. Anyway, how was your day? Watch any ball games?” I asked with a grin.
Connor, however, was not to be distracted. “How do you want to decorate it?”
I took another piece of bread and a large sip of iced tea before nearly choking. “Wow, what did they put in this tea?”
Connor raised his eyebrows. “He asked if you wanted a Seafarer’s iced tea, and you said yes.” I looked at him blankly, so he continued, “It’s a cocktail, like a Long Island iced tea only with more of a kick.”
I fanned my face with my napkin. “Yeah, I’ll say. You may need to call us a cab home.” I took another tentative sip and felt the liquor work through me. I’d need more bread to sop up the alcohol.
Connor leaned back as Kenny brought us two appetizers, placing the dishes in the center of the table, plus an additional small plate in front of each of us. “To start out with, we have our famous lobster rolls, lobster in a cream sauce in puff pastry and our crab-stuffed mushrooms. I hope you enjoy.” Kenny left and my stomach rumbled.
Connor flicked his hand toward the food. “Eat and explain your ideas for the diner.” He popped a mushroom into his mouth.
I tried one of the lobster rolls, closed my eyes and moaned. Connor chuckled, my eyes popping open in embarrassment. “Sorry.” I swallowed. “Really good.” I took another sip of my cocktail. “Well, I was thinking about light walls. You know the creamy yellow of Italian plaster? With the word pancake in every language that has a pancake as part of their native cuisine—Gran and I looked it up once. There are a ton of different cultures that have something similar to what we call pancakes. Just in the US, there’s flapjacks, griddle cakes and hot cakes. And I’m sure if we visited more remote, rural areas we’d find even more names for them. Anyway, I was thinking of those words written in kind of an unbroken chain, ringing the room at eye level—mine, not yours.
“And I’d have small, round, wrought iron café-style tables in the center of the room with a long red leather bench running down each of the side walls. Small square tables could be placed at intervals along the bench so if there was a big party, we could scoot all the tables together to make one long table. Otherwise, lots of eating areas for two to four people.” I felt myself babbling but couldn’t stop.
“There’d be a counter running along the service area in front of the kitchen so people could just eat at the counter, if they’d like. Take half that wall down, like Bear suggested. A large, sparkling chandelier hanging from the ceiling.” I cleared my throat. “I know that sounds silly. I want it to feel warm and inviting, but special, too. I’ve always loved Parisian architecture, so I want it to have that feel. And, yes, there will be crepes.” I paused to gauge Connor’s reaction. He was smiling, but that could have been the smile you give a crazy person as you back slowly away. I ate a mushroom to cover my unease.
Connor wiped his mouth, the smile going with it. “Okay, now, let’s get down to brass tacks. You want to open a diner. I want a tenant in my vacant property. How much do you think this venture will cost?”
I felt my face go slack. “Your property? But,” I sputtered, “that wasn’t your name in the window.”
“Of course not, that’s the agent’s name and number. She fields all the inquiries and lets me know if anything sounds good. I’ve had a couple of potentials, but it’s safe to say that you’re the leading contender.”
The empty plates were taken away. Connor leaned forward. “Sweetheart, I think this is a wonderful idea, and I’m more than happy to help you with—what are you calling this place?”
Nellie’s Kitchen slipped out before I could stop myself. “But really, Connor, I’m not a good bet. My ex would be more than happy to tell you about all the projects I’ve started and left unfinished.”
“I don’t want to hear about him.” Connor’s easy smile disappeared. “He didn’t know you, so his opinion means nothing to me.” He took in my disbelieving look and continued, “If he truly knew you, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from cherishing you. My guess is he was too busy loving himself to give anyone else too much of a never mind, so I don’t give two good—I don’t care what he said about you. I know better. This is here and now, Katie, and I know you’re the best bet. So, how much do you think it’ll cost to open up this diner of yours?”
Dumbstruck, I was saved from answering by an interruption. I felt a large, warm body at my back, a frisson of awareness running up my spine. I knew who it was, even before he spoke. I didn’t think I could deal with Officer Hot & Cold right now.
“Katie, it’s nice to see you this evening.” He circled the table and sat opposite me, with Connor at my left. “Pops, did you order me a beer, too?”
Kenny reappeared. “Chief, it’s good to have you with us this evening. If we’re all here now, I’ll bring out your dinners,” he said, before turning and disappearing once more down the hallway, presumably toward the kitchen.
I hate that my face is so easy to read. Aiden laughed. “Oh, didn’t he tell you that I’d be joining you?” He took the napkin off the table and placed it on his knee. “I wanted to apologize for—well, too many things—most recently for being rude the other night. Buying you dinner seemed like a good way to do it. Pops is just tagging along for the free food.” Connor nodded and ate another mushroom.
I felt my face flush. I hoped Connor didn’t ask what Aiden was apologizing for. Gah! It was like accidentally watching an R-rated movie with your
parents. Oh, are people having sex? I hadn’t noticed. I was just looking through this magazine right here.
I waved my hand. “Please, forget about it.” I gave him a significant look. “Really. Never speak of it again.” I took another sip of my drink, while he chuckled at my discomfort.
“So.” Aiden’s eyes shifted back and forth between Connor and me. “What are we discussing tonight?”
“It’s funny you should ask,” Connor began, but I cut him off.
“This restaurant. Isn’t it interesting that it used to be a boardinghouse for sailors?” Hey, I covered that up pretty well, for once.
“Yeah, that’s what they say. And a speakeasy during prohibition. I think they also had an illegal gambling operation in the back at one point. This is a great place.” Aiden took a drink from Connor’s beer. “So, what were you two really talking about?” Aiden tried using his silent cop mojo to break me, but I wasn’t going down. Connor, however, was apparently not the mojo-deflecting badass I was.
“You know my vacant property right up the street?” Connor asked him.
Aiden nodded. “Sure.”
“Well, Katie and I were just discussing her renting it to open a breakfast diner.” Connor was clearly tickled with the idea, and seemed to be waiting for Aiden to mirror his enthusiasm.
Aiden tilted his head and regarded me for a moment, before looking down at the table, nodding absently while his thumb rubbed back and forth across the white tablecloth.
Kenny reappeared with our food, breaking the tension. “Here we are. I hope you enjoy your meals. Please, let me know if there’s anything I can get you. Chief, would you like something to drink?”
Aiden nodded again, without looking up from his plate. “Thanks, Kenny. I’ll have whatever you’ve got on tap.”
After a minute I felt the table jolt and saw Aiden wince. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded of Connor, who merely stared at him.
I tried to swallow the huge lump in my throat. I wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or humiliation, but it didn’t matter. I took a long drink.
“I know. It’s stupid. I was just explaining to Connor that it would never work.” I smiled too brightly around the table. “Well, doesn’t this look delicious?”
Aiden shook his head disgustedly at Connor before turning back to me. “I don’t think it’s a stupid idea. I was just wondering how much weight I was going to gain, eating there every morning. I was also thinking about Kimberly, Jack’s oldest girl. She could be your waitress. She’s taking classes at the university, but maybe she could wait tables in the morning before going to class. Might work out better for her than trying to find a night job. Also, Bear could do the reno work. He knows the place well.” He turned back to me. “Yeah, this could be real good, Katie. Start slowly, just doing breakfast, and then once you have everything down and a good staff in place, you can start doing lunch, too.”
He nodded, picked up his fork and dug into his potatoes as though that was that. It had all been decided. Connor hid a grin behind his sip of beer, but nothing could hide the twinkle in his eyes. I felt like I’d been poleaxed. I took a deep breath and waited for an offhand comment that would highlight my flaws, but nothing came. Aiden and Connor were eating companionably, discussing the renovation.
I ignored their chatter, breaking into my bright red steamed lobster, dipping a glistening piece into the garlic butter. I let the feeling settle. Both of them seemed unreservedly convinced that I could do this, and do it well. I was floored and then horrified that my reaction to kindness and support was shock. In spite of that revelation, a huge grin pulled at my face.
Aiden glanced over. “Lobster good?”
A gasp of insane hilarity wanted to burst out, but I locked it down. I nodded my head solemnly before responding. “Yep, very good lobster.”
Connor reached under the table to give my knee a quick squeeze, all while continuing his discussion with Aiden. I took another drink and dug in to my most excellent meal.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Aiden
KATIE WAS A little tipsy, and it looked good on her. I’d told myself I would leave right after dinner. Instead, I found myself watching Katie. Again. Damn it. After dinner we’d moved to the lounge. Katie stood at the bar, chatting with Jane, our waitress, who had often hung out with her and Daisy when they were kids.
She scampered back and dropped into her chair. “Oh, my goodness, did you know that Jane married Michael? They have a set of twelve-year-old twins.” She paused to look up at the ceiling, her fingers twitching. “Wait, I don’t think the math on that works.” She turned back around to look at Jane, a mischievous grin on her face. “Why, that little hussy. And with Michael.” She leaned forward to take Pops and me into her confidence. “He was my first kiss,” she whispered. “Ah, well, c’est la vie.” She leaned back. “So, who else got knocked up in high school?”
Pops stood, chuckling. “You’d have to ask this one,” he said, pointing to me. “I prefer to believe everyone is pure as the driven snow when they get married.” He winked at Katie. “Including his grandmother and myself.”
“Thanks, Pops. That’s a thought I really needed floating around in my head.” I fake shuddered.
“Then my work here is done, and it’s time for me to go home.”
Katie immediately deflated. “Oh, Connor, don’t go.” She stood and wrapped her arms around him, her chin on his chest, looking up. I don’t know how Pops could resist those bright green eyes. I couldn’t imagine ever saying no to her if she looked at me that way. “I’ll be your wingman” she said. “Get you hooked up tonight.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, giving her a quick squeeze. He held her tight, his voice just a murmur in the crowd. “Katie, I have a feeling there isn’t much you couldn’t talk me into, but I’m an old man and tired, so I want to go home.”
Blinking and looking thoroughly confused, Katie finally said, “Oh.”
She reached under the table, picked up a tiny handbag and secured the strap across her body. “Okay, let’s go.”
Pops held on to one arm and shook his head. “No, you don’t. You’ve had too many cocktails. Aiden—” he looked to me and I nodded “—is driving you home tonight. I don’t want the proprietor of the newest eating establishment in Bar Harbor getting into any accidents, all right?”
She held up two fingers in a faulty Girl Scout salute. “I promise to be completely sober before I touch my car keys. I’m switching to water right now. Aiden can make me walk a straight line and touch my nose.” She dropped her hand to the side, went up on tiptoe and kissed Pops on the cheek. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
“Ah, Katie, if I were only a younger man, I’d snatch you up and put you in my pocket.” He turned and nodded at someone I couldn’t see across the room. “Phil’s going to run me home. He was here having dinner with his daughter and son-in-law,” he explained.
Pops said his goodbyes and left. Katie immediately tensed up. I felt like a complete shit for having this effect on her. “Come on. Dance with me.” Her eyes were big and bright, shining with confusion and not a little reticence.
“Oh, well, it’s just that—”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the small dance floor. They were playing Patsy Cline’s “Crazy,” which seemed appropriate considering that’s what Katie was driving me. She was so damn nervous and uncomfortable, I couldn’t help but pull her in tight. I rubbed her back, trying to get her to settle, but she felt a little too good, so I stopped.
I cleared my throat. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been sending mixed signals, kissing you and then taking off. I’m dealing with my own shit, and not very well. I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “I see.”
Did I explain that wrong? “I like you, Katie, and I’m
sorry I’ve been such a dick. I’ve been thinking that maybe we should try to be friends.” At her raised eyebrows, I continued, “Yes. I know most friends don’t make out, but maybe we should. You know, kind of a friends-with-benefits deal.”
When she reared back, I pulled her in close again. “I knew you wouldn’t go for that.” I sighed.
We were drawing some attention. I could feel all the town gossips trying to figure out what was going on. I didn’t want to be grist for the mill, but the idea of letting her go and sitting back down definitely didn’t appeal, either.
She glanced around the room, stiff in my arms. “We seem to have an audience, Aiden.”
I slid my thumb back and forth, over her ribs. “Ignore them.” It was an almost imperceptible move, but I watched her eyes dilate.
“What?” She said breathlessly.
I lowered my face closer to hers. “Having trouble concentrating?”
Her eyes were trained on my lips and then she blinked, her gaze turning calculating. “Not at all. I think people might just be worried about your subpar dancing skills.”
I groaned quietly, as I pulled her in closer, her chest pressed against my own. “Maybe. Or maybe people are just concerned I’ll strain my neck, dancing with a pixie.”
She leaned back, casting an assessing glance over her shoulder. “That’s what they’re saying, are they?” I could tell she was plotting. “Is this better for you then?” She asked as she stepped up on my shoes.
I’m sure she thought she was causing severe toe pain, but as I was wearing my steel-toed work shoes and she was no bigger than a minute, all she did was make me work a little harder to lift my legs. When I didn’t grimace in pain, I felt her concentrate all her weight on the balls of her feet, resulting in a not unpleasant pressure and the unintended benefit of bringing her face closer to mine. She clung to me to keep her balance. My hands spread across her back, desperate to slide lower. She swayed toward me, my eyes starting to close in response to the kiss I was readying for. Instead, she blinked slowly and then jumped back off my feet.
