by Darcy Burke
“Yep. Parents are funny, right?” She half choked, half laughed. He looked sideways at her. “You all right?”
“Yes. I was just talking to my mom, in fact. Funny isn’t the word I’d use to describe her.”
“What would you use?”
The word came out before she could censor herself: “Strange.”
He laughed, the sound deep and delicious, sliding over her skin like the softest T-shirt after a relaxing hot bath. “That’s a new one. Why is she strange?”
“Oh geez, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” And she didn’t want to tell him. There was a reason Mom had only met Mark five times in three years. As a general rule, Maggie kept Mom sequestered from the rest of her life. It was why she lived over an hour away.
He stopped at the corner, waiting for the crosswalk light to turn. “Come on, you can do better than that.”
“Okay. Have you ever seen the show Portlandia?”
“Of course. I’m from here. It’s the perfect lampooning of Portland’s hipster subculture. I tried to explain to people in Florida that while it’s satire, it isn’t really that far off the mark. They thought I was full of it.” He chuckled.
She nodded in agreement. “Totally. And my mother is living proof that it is true. She actually pickles things, shops at a feminist bookstore, and, yes, has even ‘put a bird on it.’ ”
He laughed harder and then stopped when he saw her face. “Oh my God, you’re serious.”
“Serious as hipsters insisting on locally sourced produce.”
He grinned. “That’s sort of awesome. I bet she’s a hoot.”
Maggie couldn’t resist smiling. “Ha, not quite.”
“Maybe I’ll meet her sometime and judge for myself.”
Not even if this actually was a date. But it wasn’t, she reminded herself.
The light turned, and his hand grazed her lower back as they stepped into the crosswalk. For just a moment, she imagined what a date with him might be like. They passed a woman who looked him up and down then shot Maggie an envious glance. Oh yes, going on a date with Kyle Archer would be ridiculously fantastic.
He was a complete gentleman. When he wasn’t leaping out of the shadows and scaring her half to death.
He was thoughtful. Even when he was offering to break into her rental house.
He was also dedicated. As evidenced by his commitment to finding out who’d sold his brother drugs.
Yes, Kyle Archer was far too attractive for his own good. Perhaps she ought to focus on the negative things Alex had told her—that he was a bit self-centered, rash, and stubborn as all hell. She supposed the stubborn and the dedicated probably went hand in hand.
They reached the other side of the street, and he guided her to the path that led to the stairs up to the restaurant. When they stepped into the entryway of the old, renovated house, the hostess met them. “Good evening.”
“Hi, Kyle Archer for two.”
She glanced at the iPad mini in her hand. “Welcome. This way.” She led them to a table in the back corner next to a window. “You requested this table, right?”
“Yep, thank you.” He held out one of the chairs and looked at Maggie. Total gentleman.
She sat, and he pushed her gently in before taking his chair across the table. He placed his laptop next to his setting.
The hostess set the menus before them. “All the specials are there—we print the menus every day. Can I have your server bring you a cocktail? A glass of wine?”
“How about a bottle of the two thousand eight WillaKenzie Triple Black Slopes?” He looked at Maggie, his brow raised in question. She nodded.
“Excellent choice,” the hostess said. She left them alone, and Maggie perused the menu.
“What’s good?” She looked up at him. “You’re the chef.”
“You’re asking my professional opinion?”
“Of course.”
He looked over the menu. “I haven’t actually eaten here yet, but since I know the chef from culinary school, I have a good idea of what he’ll make. I’m sure the beet salad is amazing, but maybe you don’t like pickled things given your disdain for Portlandia.”
She laughed. “I actually love that show, but it’s sometimes a little too close to home for my comfort.”
“The hand-cut potato chips are also fantastic, and the onion dip that comes with it is about as close to a sex-free orgasm as you can get.”
His words heated her in places she didn’t want to think about when she was on a not-date with him. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had one of those.”
He winked at her. “Then we’ll definitely need the onion dip.”
Their server arrived with the wine. “Hi, I’m Whitney. Andy said this bottle’s on the house.” She cut the foil and pierced the cork with the corkscrew.
Maggie looked at Kyle as Whitney opened the wine. “Is Andy your friend?”
Kyle nodded. “This is his restaurant.”
Maggie glanced around at the rustic décor and the cabinet stocked with what was probably only a portion of the wine collection. “It’s great.” She’d eaten here a few times but only for lunch.
Whitney splashed a few swallows of pinot noir into a balloon glass in front of Kyle. He picked it up and swirled it, inspecting it as it moved around the glass. Then he inhaled the scent, and finally, he took a sip. “Perfect.”
Whitney smiled, then filled Maggie’s glass and added to Kyle’s. “Can I get anything started for you?”
“The onion dip, please,” Kyle said.
“Great choice.” The server left again.
Maggie looked down at her menu. “What about dinner? I can’t decide. It all looks good.”
“I’d go with the scallops. Or the duck.” He looked over at her. “Or maybe the risotto if you’re vegetarian.”
“Not a vegetarian, despite my mother’s best efforts. She’s full vegan, of course.” Maggie sipped her wine. “Oh, this is really good.”
They discussed the menu for another minute before Maggie noticed a couple across the room glancing over at Kyle and then talking, as if they were discussing him. “Do you know those people over there?” she asked.
He turned his head briefly. “No. Should I?”
“They keep looking over here at you, like they know you.”
His lips spread in a lazy smile. “That happens sometimes. I used to be on a TV show.”
“Oh my gosh, that’s right. What was it called again, Seven Is Enough?”
“That’s it.” He leaned forward, his blue-green eyes spearing her with a humorously intense gaze. “Quick, how old were we when it ran?”
She knew he was kidding, so she played along. “Ten, twelve?”
He looked to the side. “You don’t know?” He laughed. “That’s about right.”
“I admit I didn’t watch it very much. Mom didn’t allow us a lot of television.” Which had totally sucked when all of her friends were glued to Buffy the Vampire Slayer and she’d had to wait to watch it at Dad’s, provided he remembered to record it for her.
“I’m sure we have copies of it, if you’d like to educate yourself.”
She took another sip of wine. “How’d you guys end up on TV anyway?”
“A friend of my parents. His uncle was a producer, I think, and they were looking for a ‘feel-good’ show.”
“That was before reality shows were really big.”
“Yeah, and I think we were actually ahead of the trend. The idea sort of came from MTV’s The Real World and early reality shows like that. But people weren’t as into feeding off of others’ drama back then.”
She chuckled, thinking of the volume and variety of reality shows available now and how ridiculous most of them were. Dance moms and duck hunters. Crazy. “True. It sounds like maybe you didn’t like it?”
“Actually, I loved it. My siblings, not so much. Tori didn’t mind it, but Liam hated it, and Sara and Evan just sort of clung to the background. Hayden didn’t love it eith
er, but that’s because he was the ‘oops’ kid and consequently not one of the focal points of the show.” She noticed he didn’t mention Alex but didn’t want to question him about it. Alex hadn’t talked to her about the show very much, but she had the sense that he’d enjoyed it.
Instead, she thought back to the few episodes that she’d seen and recalled that Kyle, Tori, and Liam had seemed to be the stars, with the emphasis on Kyle, who she remembered as funny. “You were the ham.”
He cracked a half smile. “Totally. I’ll admit it, I loved the spotlight. I cried when they canceled it.”
She felt a tinge of remorse for him. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard, given how young you were.”
“I guess. But because we were young, we bounced back.” He took a drink of wine.
The couple was still sneaking glances at Kyle. “And you still have your celebrity,” she said, thinking that her assessment of his Hollywood looks was dead accurate and she hadn’t even realized it.
Whitney brought the dip and took their dinner order. Maggie decided on the scallops and Kyle got the duck, both on the condition that they would share bites. This was feeling more and more like a date. She needed to remember that it wasn’t. “Do you want to show me the laptop now?”
He looked a little surprised. “Before dinner? Okay, sure. But first, you have to try the orgasm-inducing dip.”
Picking up a chip, she swiped it into the thick, creamy dip and took a taste. “Oh. My. God. You weren’t kidding.”
His gaze was fixed on her mouth, heightening the pull she felt toward him. “Delicious, right?”
She had the discomfiting—and arousing—sense that he wasn’t talking about the dip. Or maybe that was her prudish imagination. Ha, as if. The images that were pinging around in her mind at present were anything but sedate. She tried not to think of his muscular thighs or his long chef’s fingers or the breadth of his shoulders. And she sure as hell tried not to think of how much she liked him, despite wanting to keep her distance. Oh crap, this not-date was not going the way it should. “The laptop?” she reminded him.
“Right.” He pulled it from the sleeve and opened it. He ran his finger over the track pad and turned it so they could both view the screen. He’d pulled the contacts up. The As stared back at her. Most of them were Archers. “Can you just scroll through and see if any names jump out at you?” he asked.
“Sure.” She helped herself to another chip and the fabulous dip, then wiped her fingertips on her napkin before turning to the computer. She scrolled down through the Bs, the Cs, and onward. Nothing looked familiar. Her gaze landed on a phone number at the end of the Gs that looked like her brother’s but wasn’t.
Kyle must’ve noticed she’d paused. “What is it?” His tone carried a hint of excitement.
She shot him an apologetic glance, hating disappointing him. “Nothing. Just a number that looked familiar, but it’s not.”
He stared at the screen, his hand frozen halfway to his mouth with a chip. “Shit.”
“What?” she asked, her neck prickling for some reason.
“You’re looking at the numbers as well as the names. God, I’m so stupid.” He set the chip on his plate and clicked on the name: Dane Hawkins.
Maggie dipped another chip. “Why are you stupid? Did you miss that person before?”
“Yes, but I know him. As Shane Dawkins—I recognize the number now. I hadn’t been looking at numbers before, just names.” He sent her a grateful glance. “See, I knew you’d be helpful.”
A flush of pride washed over her as she swallowed the chip. “You’re welcome. Who is he?”
His mouth formed a grim line, and his dazzling blue-green eyes dimmed. “My bookie.”
Chapter Four
“YOUR BOOKIE?” SHE stared at him a long moment. “You gamble?”
“Not if I can help it. I’m an addict.” He couldn’t believe he was telling her this, exposing his most closely held secret. He’d never discussed the depths of his problem with his family, with Derek, or with any of the friends he’d made in Florida. So why her?
She twirled her wine glass. “Wow. So . . . you’re surprised that Alex had this guy’s number?”
“Yeah, particularly since he went to the trouble of disguising his name. That seems to scream concealment.”
“It does,” she said slowly. “You think this guy—Shane—had something to do with the drugs?”
Kyle couldn’t think of any other reason that Alex would have his number. God, if Shane was somehow involved . . . Kyle’s shoulders bunched, and anger curled through him.
She reached out and touched his hand near the laptop. The light contact of her fingers rocked through him, tossing his already overworked senses into overdrive. “Just take a breath.” Her voice caressed him, but instead of relaxing, his body coiled with frustration. “Kyle, breathe. Maybe Alex just wanted to place a bet.”
Kyle blew out a breath. “Maybe.” He still had to have gotten the number from Kyle, but shit, how in the world had that happened? He thought back to four years ago. “I don’t know how Alex would’ve gotten Shane’s number.”
“Okay, we’ll work on that. Do you want me to keep looking through the numbers?”
Kyle shook himself, but the sick feeling in his gut persisted. If Shane had provided the drugs and Kyle had somehow led Alex to him . . . God, how would he rebound from that? He’d made a shit-ton of mistakes and was trying to do better, but if he’d brought opportunity to Alex’s door . . . with a shaking hand, he took a long drink of wine.
“Kyle, are you still with me?” Maggie’s soothing voiced pulled him back to the here and now. “Talk to me.”
Hopelessness choked him. “I don’t know what to say. What if this is my fault?”
“It’s not. No matter what. Your brother killed himself—you are not responsible, no one is.”
The passion in her tone grounded him, gave him something to cling to. “That includes you, right?”
“That includes me.” Her dark gaze bored into his. “And believe me, there are days when I still have to convince myself of that fact.”
“Yeah, I bet.” He winced. “Poor choice of words.”
She laughed, further calming him. “I think you did that on purpose. I’m beginning to understand that you like things to be easy and fun. That makes life more palatable for you, especially now, doesn’t it?”
He thought about that for a minute. “If you’re asking me whether I avoid tough situations, the answer is sometimes. I just think life’s short—now more than ever.”
“Sure, I get that. But a gambling addiction is pretty heavy. If I were you, I think I’d want people to look at anything but me, lest they see things I don’t want them to.”
Hell, she was headshrinking him. He wanted to hate that, but damn it, he didn’t. “You’re therapizing me, Dr. Trent.”
She arched a brow at him. “That’s not a word.”
“But you know exactly what I mean,” he challenged.
“I do. And yes.” Her gaze turned sheepish. “Sorry, it’s what I do. Even before I was a therapist, I tried to solve people’s problems. I had a teacher once who called me a busybody.”
He suddenly remembered how he’d come to be here with her in the first place. She’d treated his brother. Unsuccessfully. But was that really her fault? No, like she’d said, it wasn’t. Any lingering anger or resentment he felt toward her began to dissipate.
Whitney brought their entrees, and for a few minutes, they dug into their food.
“These scallops are amazing.”
Kyle checked out her plate. “Great sear.” Andy was a good chef. Seeing his friend’s work gave him an itch. He cooked at home, had done some restaurant work in Florida the past few years, but nothing permanent. The thought of designing a menu, creating something from scratch at The Alex, filled him with excitement and reminded him of why he’d decided to go to culinary school in the first place. That and the fact that he’d dropped out of college and his
parents had pushed him to find something else to do. He’d always liked to cook and decided to try it to get them off his back. He’d been surprised to find he actually had a passion for it.
“Here.” She forked a bit of scallop and held it up to him.
He took the proffered bite and closed his eyes. Now he really hated Andy—for his successful restaurant and his amazing scallops. “Your dinner is better than mine,” he said, opening his eyes. He offered her some duck.
She sampled the succulent bird and smiled. “I don’t know, that’s pretty freaking good.”
“I heard that!” Andy came to the table with a wide grin. He liked to eat his food as much as craft it, and he looked like he’d gained a good fifteen or twenty pounds in the years since Kyle had seen him last.
Kyle stood and hugged his old friend. “Great to see you. You look good.”
Andy clapped him on the back as they drew apart. “No, you look good. I look doughy.” He smiled to take the sting out of his self-deprecation.
“You also look happy and accomplished.” Kyle gestured toward Maggie. “This is Maggie. Maggie, this is Andy.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said.
“Ditto. Watch out for this jerk,” Andy said, jabbing his thumb toward Kyle. “He’s a smooth talker.”
She smiled, her eyes lighting with mirth. “So I’m learning.”
Kyle reluctantly pulled his gaze from her sexy stout-colored eyes and lush, peach-hued lips. He could just sit and stare at her for a long time, he realized. And that wasn’t weird. Mentally shaking himself, he looked at Andy. “This place is fantastic. You should be really proud.”
“I am, but it’s a ton of work. I hear you’re opening a place in Ribbon Ridge—your family’s renovating that monastery?”
“It was my brother’s plan.”
Andy grabbed his shoulder. “I’m such a douche. I was really sorry to hear about Alex. You okay?”
Kyle glanced at Maggie, who’d stopped eating and was watching their conversation. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s been a little rough, but we’re working through it. The project helps—gives us something positive to focus on.”
