She didn’t. She stepped back, taking in Hay’s beautiful backyard. The guests’ upbeat chatter. Barb’s melodious laughter. Ariana’s delicate beauty. The twinkle lights. The Chinese lanterns. The breeze swaying the branches.
Kimmy stared at Booker’s broad back and remembered…
Summers when she helped her mother clean Ariana’s house or Barb’s. Watching Barb and Ariana sun themselves in the backyard while she dusted their pretty, expensive things. Every visit making her realize the differences between them.
She remembered winters when they couldn’t keep the heat on higher than fifty in the house at night because they couldn’t afford their electricity bill. Sleeping in two layers of clothes and beneath two blankets and a sleeping bag to stay warm.
She remembered high school bells ringing. Kids running to after-school activities—sports, clubs, causes. And Kimmy running to work at the Burger Shack. She was a member of the family at the Shack. Never cold. Checked on by Mrs. Belmonte if she called in sick.
And then there were Booker and Hay.
For three years, the teens had done the heavy lifting at the Shack while little Dante battled for his life. They’d signed up for the most shifts and worked the most hours.
Oh, they hadn’t been complete angels. There’d been food fights and grill-offs. And competitions. Man, the competitions. Who could eat the most burger patties in five minutes (Hay). Who could clean the dining room the fastest (Kimmy). Who could prep and slice the most potatoes for French fries before Mrs. Belmonte came back from the dentist (Booker).
Three teens who enjoyed each other’s company and shared the value of hard work.
And now?
It was as if they shared nothing.
The only time Kimmy saw Haywood was when he stopped in for a sandwich. She hadn’t seen Booker in years. What kind of friendship was that?
Kimmy knew the answer. It wasn’t a friendship. She didn’t belong here.
She took another step back.
She could leave. No one would miss her.
She could walk home a mile or so in heels. She’d suffered through worse. She was suffering now.
Another step and…
“I’m glad you came.” Hay took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Don’t go.” Booker took her other hand and gave it a squeeze.
She felt their gazes upon her but couldn’t look at them. If she had, she might have done something stupid, like shed a tear, grateful as she was for their past friendship.
But here in the present, Booker had kissed her.
And she was afraid nothing was ever going to be the same again.
“Did I hear right?” Booker’s mom came through the back door into the Burger Shack, dressed for work in black slacks and the Shack’s black polo shirt. The thick streaks of gray in her hair glimmered under the fluorescents. “Are you dating Kimmy Easley? Can I say I heartily approve? It’s about time you took a moment to think about your future.”
“Mom.” Booker jumped into the void when his mother took a breath. He’d been prepping potatoes, and he dried his hands on a towel. “Don’t start planning my wedding. Kimmy and I have always been good friends.”
“And she always had that crush on Haywood.” His mother tsk-tsked. “Patience really paid off for you, didn’t it?”
Patience? He’d kissed Kimmy at the first opportunity. And when it was done, she’d looked at him in just the way he’d imagined. Slightly breathless, slightly dazed, completely blissful.
And then she’d looked at Hay. Shades of summers past.
Booker gritted his teeth.
And then Hay had taken her hand, sensing—much as Booker had—that Kimmy wanted to bolt.
Booker’s jaw clenched so hard that it popped. He’d driven her home but the ride had been quiet.
“Can you imagine the two of you together?” His mom opened the supply cabinet and grabbed a bag of napkins. She was like a savant, sensing the staff who’d closed last night hadn’t refilled the dining room’s napkin holders. “Dark-haired babies with your smile and her smarts.”
“Mom.” Seriously, the woman needed a hobby. “Shouldn’t you be home? Gardening or knitting or something?”
“Knitting?” His mom rushed to his side, dark eyes wide and hopeful. “Baby booties?”
“No. No babies.” Booker put his hands on her shoulders. “I meant you shouldn’t come in the Shack every day. I bought it from you so you’d be able to enjoy life. You’ve given so much to Dante and me. It’s time you focused on you. Book a massage at Prestige Salon.” If she didn’t, he’d make the appointment for her. “Join the gym.”
“But…” She crushed the napkins to her chest. “This is my life. And when Dante leaves for college…”
“You’ll have Dad,” Booker was quick to say. He drew her back toward the office. “You can travel, like you always talked about.”
His mother sat down in a chair by the door, still embracing the napkins. “Your father doesn’t want to travel. All he’s interested in is the television remote. He discovered he can record shows last night. And this morning, he’s watching all the shows he recorded.”
Booker frowned.
“So you see, Booker”—his mother turned puppy-dog eyes his way—“unless you’re going to give me a grandchild, the Shack is all I have.”
“Your bangs bothered me all last night.” Ariana shook out a black polka-dot cape and fastened it around Kimmy’s neck. “I even dreamed about them.”
“I’m sorry?” Kimmy was still unsure of her footing where Ariana was concerned. Add to that the fact that she’d helped her mother clean the salon a time or ten and it felt odd to sit in a client chair. “I didn’t know hairstylists were bothered by the botched work of other hairstylists.”
“All the time.” Ariana picked up Kimmy’s bangs and let them fall. Repeatedly. “So.” Her gaze met Kimmy’s. “What was it that finally got you and Booker together? Hay and I have talked about the chemistry between you guys for years.”
“Years?” That couldn’t be.
Ariana chuckled. “Were you the last to know?”
“Apparently.” It was hard to believe that others had noticed an attraction and she hadn’t. Booker was just…Booker.
Caring. Considerate. Smart. Handsome. Sandwich thief. Booker.
Ariana lightly sprayed Kimmy’s bangs with water and took thinning scissors to her hair. “To think we were all in high school together. It’s funny, isn’t it? I was such a dork back then. Trying so hard to fit in.”
“You did fit in.” Ariana had hung out with Barb and the in-crowd.
She shook her head. “I felt like I was one wrong shoe decision away from expulsion. If it hadn’t been for Haywood…” Ariana fluffed Kimmy’s bangs. “He’s so grounded. And funny about money. I wanted to get engaged way back. You know, when we had that little break.”
Oh, I know.
Kimmy pretended the silence wasn’t awkward as she waited for Ariana to continue.
Haywood’s bride-to-be worked some mousse into Kimmy’s hair. “There was a reason Hay didn’t want to get married when we were younger. He wanted to make sure we were financially stable. His parents never have been.”
Kimmy kept silent.
Hay’s parents, like Kimmy’s, were blue-collar workers. But Hay’s sports ability had earned him a place on the popularity ladder, which Kimmy had been unable to climb. But she wasn’t about to admit any weakness while in Prestige Salon—the hub of town gossip.
“So I waited because he’s so totally worth it.”
Booker might be worth it too.
A dangerous thought. So Kimmy chose silence again.
“And then at the town’s tree-lighting ceremony, he proposed with the choir singing Christmas carols and the lights sparkling in the trees. It was perfect.” Ariana grabbed a hair dryer and blew Kimmy’s bangs dry, raising her voice to be heard. “I hope Booker is as romantic as Hay is.”
Kimmy wanted to say, That man is not goi
ng to propose to me.
Kimmy should say, I hope so too. If only to keep up the ruse that she and Booker were indeed infatuated with each other, which would give the impression that Kimmy was no threat to Ariana’s special day.
But Kimmy managed only a meek “Yep.”
Who was she kidding? Booker was going to be gone in a week, managing his growing restaurant empire from Denver. He’d probably forget about that kiss before he returned home. If he was thinking about settling down, he certainly wasn’t thinking about settling down with Kimmy, chemistry or not.
Ariana returned her hair dryer to its place near the rest of her tools and picked up a flat iron. After a few passes over Kimmy’s bangs, it was time for hair spray and a final fluff. “There.” She whipped off the drape as dramatically as a stage magician. “Booker is going to love this. Parted to the side, it gives interest to your face and makes your eyes look huge.”
The face that stared into the mirror looked the same to Kimmy. She was the woman behind Emory’s lunch counter. The woman who’d stood in the crowd in the town square when Hay had proposed to Ariana.
Kimmy stared at her reflection and nodded. Bangs made no difference whether blunt cut or fluffed to one side. Same woman.
She’d best remember that.
Chapter Eight
See you tomorrow, Emory.” Kimmy shut off the lights behind the deli counter. She had to hurry home and get ready for another wedding-related event.
She hadn’t seen Booker since the dinner at Haywood’s house two nights ago. She wouldn’t be surprised if he texted and gave her an out for the evening, regardless of whether he’d noticed chemistry between them for years or not.
Emory walked into her path, blocking her exit. His bow tie today was a solid blue. “I hear they’re testing their new menu at the Burger Shack this Friday at lunch.” His tone had the quality of Eeyore’s doom and gloom. “I don’t expect much business that day. And you shouldn’t either.”
Kimmy resisted the urge to check the time on her cell phone. “We’ll be fine.” Of course, she experienced a niggle of doubt as she said it. She was just the lunch-counter clerk, not the store manager. “People are loyal to us.”
Emory considered her words, pursing his lips until he came to a judgment. “You and Booker…”
Oh, not Emory too. Customers in her line today had asked Kimmy about her relationship with Booker.
“Booker is loyal to you,” Emory was saying. “He’d show you their new menu if you asked. And if you saw it, you could design something better for us.”
“That seems kind of low, doesn’t it?” Besides, she’d declined to review it twice. How would it look if she asked now?
“It’s called survival.” Emory shook his head. “You know, Kimmy, there’s a push to turn that abandoned mill down by the interstate into a distribution center. If that happens, everything’s going to change. New homes will go up out there. New businesses too. And we’ll be left here to wither away.”
“No.” Regardless of her short-term-employee mentality, Kimmy refused to believe Emory’s prediction.
“Mark my words.” Her boss eyed her. “Unless you come up with something new and slam-bang, something that keeps customers here, the Burger Shack will ruin things for this store.”
Then Emory was paged to the front of the store, leaving Kimmy to ponder his opinion and whether they applied to food trucks too.
“I was just about to call you.” Kimmy stood in the open doorway of her apartment, trapped between the hot late-afternoon air and Booker climbing her stairs and the cool air-conditioning and the safety of her normal life inside.
Should she kiss his cheek hello? Drag him inside for a lip-lock? Or ask about his menu?
Booker hurried toward the door in a dark suit and tie, checking his cell phone and looking like a businessman from Denver, not her childhood friend.
“I thought you might cancel.” She’d give him an out. After all, Booker still hadn’t looked at her. That kiss. Every second that passed made it more awkward to bring up.
He drew his brows together, released them, and then pocketed his phone. “I’m late, that’s all. Dante was out at the old mill with some friends and somehow got left behind.” He stopped on her welcome mat and looked at her. A slow smile built on his face. “Now that”—he gestured toward her from head to toe—“all works together, bangs included.”
Booker’s attention was building her confidence. Her dress this evening was a sapphire-blue sheath. Kimmy was getting used to the new haircut and dressing like an adult. She could get used to Booker’s compliments too. And yet she felt deflated. The fact that they hadn’t talked about that kiss had to mean something.
“What’s wrong?” His smile fell, and he hustled her inside, closing the door behind them.
“This.” Why beat around the bush? She gestured from him to her. “Us pretending. Me holding your hand. Being in your space. Kissing you.”
Booker tilted his head and studied her face, saying nothing as the heat built in her cheeks.
“Say something,” she whispered.
“I’m just putting everything in context.” He came forward slowly until he was close enough to brush the bangs from her eyes, although he didn’t touch her. “You’re taking responsibility for a deal we both agreed to. It isn’t you deciding to hold my hand. As far as I recall, I’ve always reached for your hand first.”
So true. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, but we do.” His hands came to rest on her shoulders, sliding slowly down her arms until his fingers closed around hers. “You haven’t been moving into my space. I’ve been dragging you into it. And that kiss the other night? I kissed you, not the other way around.”
“I didn’t just stand there,” Kimmy mumbled.
“No.” He broke out that infectious smile. “You didn’t.”
“But…” How to say this? “Everyone’s been telling me this…” She held on tight to his hands and shook them. “That this was bound to happen. That all the signs were there.”
Booker stared at her tenderly. “And you didn’t see these signs?”
“No.”
“Does that mean you want to call things off?” There was a wary note to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Like you suggested the other night?”
“And go back on my word?” Yes. No. She didn’t know which would be worse.
“I know you’d never break a promise.” He leaned closer and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I can tough it out,” Kimmy said, unsteady in her heels. She risked looking at Booker, so close she could have leaned forward and kissed him again. “If you can.”
His trademark smile returned as his arms came around her. “Like it’s a hardship.” Before she could ask him what he meant, he’d released her, grabbed her purse and her keys, and ushered her out the door.
The dinner for the wedding party was being hosted by Ariana’s parents. Another home Kimmy used to help her mother clean.
“We need a set of tongs.” Ariana’s mother glanced around.
“I’ll get them.” Kimmy hurried from the patio into the kitchen.
Booker followed her, although not as quickly. “I thought you might need help rifling through Camilla’s drawers.” He slowed to a stop at the large kitchen island, where Kimmy stood holding the tongs she’d dug out of a drawer. “How did you…”
“Mom and I used to clean this house.” She’d never told him that. Back in the day, it’d been too embarrassing. “Come on.” Kimmy retraced her steps. “Don’t look at me like that. This is my Cinderella moment. As soon as the wedding reception is over, I’m turning into a pumpkin.”
He fell into line behind her. “Besides the fact that Cindy doesn’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight, you were never Cindy. You were Sleeping Beauty, and I’m sorry it took me so long to show up and give you a kiss.”
Kimmy’s breath caught. That was without a doubt the most romantic thing
a man had ever said to her. And he’d spoken the words when she was wearing a beautiful dress, standing in a beautiful home, and having a good hair day. Could life get any better?
Booker caught Kimmy’s arm, bringing her around to face him. “In fact, I’d like to give you another.”
Kimmy stared at him through her lashes. If he was going to kiss her, she wasn’t going to object. “Camilla needs her tongs.”
“Camilla can wait.” Booker’s arms came around Kimmy. He tilted her chin up and gathered her close, hesitating, lips practically touching hers. “You want another kiss, don’t you, Sleeping Beauty?”
Kimmy’s heart pounded out an answer he couldn’t hear so she had to say, “Sometimes the magic takes more than once to work.”
His eyes sparkled, and he was smiling when his mouth came down on hers.
Their last kiss had been soft and surprising. A first-date kiss stolen on a whim.
There was nothing soft or whimsical about this kiss. There were heat and hunger, demand and declaration.
This. Him.
Her heart pounded harder, emboldening her to kiss deeper, to hold on tighter.
The floodgates opened in her head, and she put together pieces of memories she hadn’t allowed herself to previously. The flutter in her chest when Booker’s shoulder brushed hers in the school library as they worked through a complex equation. The weakness in her knees when his smile connected with hers in the school hallway. The tremble in her fingers when he asked her to scratch his nose while he was elbow-deep in dirty dishwater.
Yes, she’d been attracted to Booker as a girl. But he was going places, and everyone knew it. Kimmy was the daughter of an auto worker and a maid. She might have talked big dreams about going to college with Booker but she’d known the truth. She wasn’t going anywhere. Haywood came from her side of town. He was the more logical choice.
But now…
But this…
She was falling in love.
“Wow,” Booker whispered.
“Ditto.” Dizzy, Kimmy had to lean against the wall.
Sealed with a Kiss--A Sunshine Valley novella Page 7
