“Hey,” Camilla called, “do you need help finding those tongs?”
“Found them.” Kimmy drew a deep breath and pushed Booker back, gaining much-needed space.
Booker followed her out to the patio. “I think we found more than tongs.”
“Kimmy looks happy.” Haywood nudged Booker and gestured with his beer to the cluster of women sitting on the enclosed patio.
“She makes me happy.” But for how long? Once Kimmy knew the whole truth…The grilled oyster appetizers he’d eaten squirmed in his stomach. Booker should have told her the rest of the truth at Shaw’s or in her food truck or tonight before he kissed her.
The two men stood at the outdoor bar. Haywood was opening beer bottles. Booker was mixing another pitcher of margaritas.
“You told her though, right?” Hay asked, counting beers and then comparing his number to a head count. “About the menu?”
“Not yet.” Booker doled out ice cubes in tall bar glasses. “But she’ll understand.” He held on to a sliver of hope.
Hay stopped double-checking his beer order and began giving Booker the stink eye. “She won’t. I wouldn’t. It’s one thing to use her sammies to work your way through college.” He lowered his voice. “It’s another thing entirely to use her to make your fortune.”
Booker kept his voice just as low. “You know how Kimmy is. She’d give you the shoes off her feet if she thought you needed it.” Those oysters banked and rolled in his gut.
“And what would you give her if she needed it? A share of the profits? Part ownership in the Burger Shack?” Hay waited for an answer. When he got none, he gathered beer necks between his fingers. “You know, I showed her a lot of empty buildings to buy or rent when she was considering opening her own sandwich shop here in town. She couldn’t afford any of them. And yet you…”
“I’m going to give her a fair offer, Hay.” Booker sucked down some water, hoping to drown the oysters who’d taken on the role of his conscience. “She’ll get paid. I promise.”
“I understand you wanting to protect the family business but…” Haywood nudged Booker’s chest with a handful of beer bottles. “But Dante…” He bit back whatever he’d been about to say.
“Dante what?” Booker pushed the beer aside.
“Dante doesn’t deserve a free ride.” Hay’s voice was hard and unforgiving. “Yeah, I know he had cancer back in the day. But what has he done with his life since then besides being a mama’s boy?”
“Don’t you remember what he went through?” Outrage shook Booker’s voice. “Pale. Sunken eyes. Tubes coming out of him.” Half-dead before he was even four.
“I remember what he looked like when he was a toddler.” Hay blew out a breath. “Has it ever occurred to you that we turned out so well because it was either sink or swim? Adversity builds character. Let it build Dante’s.”
“So you’d have me stop everything? Change the menu back to burgers only?”
“Yes. And do you know why?” Haywood leaned closer. “Because you love Kimmy.”
The oysters hardened. Booker rubbed his chest, trying to relieve the heartburn, unable to deny Hay’s statement.
He loved Kimmy. He’d always loved Kimmy.
But he didn’t deserve her.
Chapter Nine
After that hot kiss in the kitchen, Kimmy had expected a hot good-night kiss.
She’d received a very chaste peck on the cheek at her door.
But she was nothing if not optimistic and fully expected Booker to call or text or swing by Thursday after work.
That was a big nada.
She made excuses for Booker: he was busy preparing for a relaunch; he was busy with ownership responsibilities for two businesses. But it wasn’t until she remembered that Haywood’s bachelor party was tonight that she stopped making excuses and relaxed.
He’d call. He’d call tomorrow.
Friday dawned clear and bright, belying the forecast of overcast skies and afternoon thunderstorms.
Kimmy went to work and prepped the lunch counter for the day’s special sandwich—bacon, zucchini, and spicy mozzarella paninis. Her sauce was divine. The grill was hot. And she had a date with Booker tonight. Who cared if a storm was on the horizon?
At eleven thirty, Emory came up to the counter, wearing a dark expression and a black bow tie. “I haven’t seen any of our regulars. Today’s the Burger Shack test run with their new menu. All proceeds go to charity. If I wasn’t so nervous, I’d appreciate how brilliant Booker’s strategy is.”
“The bell hasn’t tolled on us yet.” But Kimmy smoothed her clean, already smooth apron. “You’ll see.”
By noon, she’d served five customers instead of ten and was getting nervous.
Emory walked past slowly, raising his brows at her one customer.
By one thirty, Kimmy was ready for an early lunch break. With Janet behind the counter and no line, Kimmy removed her apron and walked the two blocks to the Burger Shack under gathering clouds.
Thunder rumbled over Saddle Horn Mountain. Trepidation rumbled inside her.
Kimmy went around to the back.
“Kimmy!” Mrs. Belmonte sat at the outdoor employee table, the same one where Booker, Haywood, and Kimmy had taken breaks on summer days. She closed a travel magazine and scurried over to give her a hug. “Seems like I haven’t seen you in ages.” She held Kimmy a little too long. And her smile was a little too big. “I’m so glad you and Booker are finally dating.”
Kimmy made a noncommittal noise and entered the Burger Shack, looking for Booker.
She’d worked at the Shack on some popular burger holidays—Memorial Day weekend, Fourth of July, Labor Day. It had never been this chaotic before. What kind of menu change had Booker made that had created such a feeding frenzy?
The chill hand of suspicion grazed the back of her neck.
Seven people were working in the kitchen. They had the fryer crackling and the grill sizzling. There was a crew working the assembly row, nervously checking the posted ingredient lists as they put together sandwiches and then placed them on a panini press.
Sandwiches.
She moved deeper into the kitchen, peering over Agnes Hempstead’s shoulder to see what she was making.
Monte Cristo Waffle Sammy.
The bottom dropped out of Kimmy’s world. It was one of the first few sandwiches she’d created in this very kitchen. For Booker and Hay.
She stepped to the left, looking over Joyce Jamison’s shoulder.
Mac and Cheese and Pepper Panini.
Again, it was a sandwich she’d created for Booker and Hay. Her heart flattened as if someone had put it in a hot panini maker.
She circled around the assembly stations, finding more familiar recipes. Somewhere along the way, she found her anger. It flamed hot, burning romantic hopes to ash.
“Hey.” Booker, standing tall but maybe not so proud. A man who knew he had some explaining to do.
Thunder rolled across the valley—boom boom boom boom.
A voice in her head echoed its cadence—fool fool fool fool.
“Outside,” Kimmy told Booker. “Now.” She didn’t look to see whether he’d follow. She was too busy trying to make sure her legs didn’t give out.
She pushed through the back door and stomped out from under the cover of the portico.
“Is something wrong, honey?” Mrs. Belmonte asked from her place at the table.
“You need to go inside, Mrs. B.” Kimmy worked hard to keep from shouting. “There’s a storm coming.”
On cue, thunder cracked overhead. Lightning sparked through her.
Mrs. Belmonte went through the door, passing Booker on his way out.
They stared at each other. Kimmy, feeling empty and betrayed, standing unprotected from the elements. Booker, looking handsome and unreadable, standing beneath the portico.
“You said you used my recipes while you were in college.” Her words were as jagged as the lightning flashing overhead.
“Yes.” His answer was disappointing.
She’d expected him to apologize, maybe grovel a little. It might have been a fantasy but hearing him beg would’ve been good for her heartbroken soul. But no. He’d gone for taciturn. He was going to make her dig out every transgression.
Kimmy wasn’t going to play that game. “I need to hire a lawyer.”
His eyes widened. He probably hadn’t counted on her cutting right to the chase.
Thunder shook the buildings around them. It shook the legs beneath her.
“I…” He faltered then, gaze sliding toward the Burger Shack.
She knew the family business had always been his top priority, overriding everything. Apparently even what little honor she’d ascribed to his character.
Booker swallowed. “I drew up a contract to pay for your recipes. I was waiting for the right time to show it to you.”
“Now. Now would be the right time. Or last weekend before the auction. Or before that first time we kissed.” Before I fell in love with you.
She felt so empty. There was nothing inside left for him to hurt.
Big, fat drops began to fall, striking the pavement angrily. They were like her tears, those drops. The tears she didn’t want to fall.
Booker held out a hand. “Come inside. We’ll talk in my office.”
The pace of the drops increased, along with the pounding of her heart.
“You had your chance to talk.” She was being pelted by drops but it was a good thing because tears were rolling down her face nonstop, and she didn’t want Booker to realize she was crying. “You had days of chances to talk.”
Her chest was folding in on itself, brought down by heartache and betrayal. And the rain was dumping on her, harder and faster, the way life was dumping on her. The way life always dumped on hardworking people reaching for the elusive American dream.
“Your lunch business is going to shut down Emory’s lunch counter.” She knew that for certain now. “I’ll be out of a job.”
Just six more weeks.
She didn’t think Emory would keep her on the payroll that long.
“I’ll hire you.” Oh, how he was quick to speak now.
She hated him for that speed. And the hate rose up inside her like too much fiery kimchi. “I’m not going to work for you on the assembly line. Those are my sandwiches. Mine! And you stole them the same way you’ve stolen…” My heart.
Her breath hitched, and she could no longer speak. He’d betrayed her trust. He’d sabotaged her dreams.
She had to go. She had to run.
Into the heart of the storm.
And away from him.
Booker sank into his chair in the office and put his head in his hands.
“Everything okay, honey?” His mother closed the door behind her. “Was it safe for Kimmy to leave in this storm?”
“No, Mom. No.” But he’d been unable to stop her, because every word she’d thrown at him had been true.
“If it wasn’t safe, why did you let her go?” His mother came around behind the desk and put her arm around his shoulders.
“Because I’ve always put you and Dad and Dante first.” Only this time, he’d gone too far. He hadn’t listened to Hay’s warnings, even though he’d known in his heart he should have.
“I love her.” The words sounded raw and lost.
“I know, honey.” His mother rubbed his arm consolingly. “You’ve always loved her. Such a good, sensible choice.”
“Love isn’t sensible.” If it were, he’d have done everything differently. He’d have asked Kimmy’s permission. He wouldn’t have stayed away while building the business, burdened with guilt. He’d have stopped trying to prove to his family that he could solve all their problems and ease all their worries. “Love isn’t sensible,” he said again. “Especially not in this case.”
“You’re selling her sandwiches, honey. Without her permission, I imagine.”
He nodded.
She slapped him upside the head, not hard but with enough verve to get his attention. “What were you thinking?”
“You hit me.” He stared up at his mother in amazement. She wasn’t one to discipline with more than stern words. He’d never even been spanked.
“Well, someone’s got to knock some sense into you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “We’ve never given you the credit you deserve for holding this family together. But you can’t just make a mistake this humongous and then wallow in self-pity. You’ve got to own up to those boo-boos and set things to rights.”
Booker rubbed his head. Not because it was sore but because he knew it would annoy his mother. “So my humongous mistake is just a boo-boo, eh?”
“Has Dante’s experience taught you nothing about life being too short?” She began to pace. “I’ve been thinking about life a lot lately. About your father. About you. About Dante.”
“If this is your midlife crisis, all I can do is beg you not to leave Dad.” His old man would never recover.
“If it is my midlife hurrah, then I’ll do as I please.” She tossed up her hands. “And if I needed to divorce your father, I would. But he’s having a little crisis all his own.” Judging by her tone, her patience with his dad was at an end. “Why do you think I come here every day? Your father has been trying to come to terms with this new life stage. It’s…It’s pitiful.” She shook her finger at Booker. “And if you tell him I said that, I’ll deny it.”
The fire in her eyes went out, and she dropped into a chair. “We can’t sell Kimmy’s sandwiches.”
“Not without her permission, I know.” He would have talked to her about it if he hadn’t kissed her Monday night. Or Wednesday night. “I was afraid that I’d lose her when she found out.” And now he had.
“You were blinded by the dollar signs, I suppose.” His mother sighed. “Before you were born, your father tried selling pizza. Burgers and pizza. The way he talked about it, you would’ve thought it was the second coming.” She huffed.
“What happened?”
“Our good friend Jerry over at Sunshine Pizza paid him a visit.” His mom wore her I-told-you-so smirk. “He told your father he’d blanket the town with coupons and deals so great that no one would ever order pizza here again, much less burgers. And your father—valuing Jerry’s friendship, of course—returned the pizza oven he’d purchased and stuck to burgers.”
“You’re saying I should honor the original menu of the Burger Shack.” Booker stared at his hands. Burgers wouldn’t finance Dante’s college education.
“I’m saying it’s your business.” His mother stood, back straight, chin high. “Do what you will. But make it right with Kimmy. You love her. And you’d make such beautiful children together.”
Chapter Ten
I hear you need a wedding date.” Clarice stood on Kimmy’s doorstep, leaning on the doorframe and shouting. “May I come in? I brought my hearing aids.” She dug a small container from her raincoat pocket and rattled it gently. “Didn’t want them to get wet.”
If it hadn’t been raining, if Kimmy hadn’t been crying, she’d have politely declined. But it was raining and she had been crying. In a moment of weakness, she opened the door wider.
She ushered Clarice inside, took her coat, and found her a seat that wasn’t covered in cat hair.
Skippy lumbered out, sniffing at her visitor.
“You have a three-legged cat.” Clarice was putting her hearing aids in. Already, her volume was below shouting range.
“I got her from that rescue Eileen Taylor runs.” Kimmy brought Clarice a glass of water and a small bowl of almonds. “I don’t have much else in the house to offer you.” Today was payday, and under normal circumstances, she would have done her grocery shopping after her shift ended but she’d been too drained emotionally to push a cart through the store.
“Now, let’s get down to business.” Clarice fiddled with her ear before patting the couch next to her, waiting for Kimmy to sit before continuing. “I’m break
ing the rules here but it had to be done. I wanted you to have the perfect wedding date for Hay’s wedding, someone who’d make it a most glorious evening, one you’d never forget.”
“Never fear. I’m not going to go to the wedding.” Kimmy couldn’t bring herself to attend, not when Booker was the best man.
Skippy wound her way around Clarice’s rain boots.
“That seems rather cowardly.” Clarice bent to pet the cat. “And you don’t strike me as a coward.”
“It’s more complicated than me breaking a date with Booker.” And she’d given him her word, sworn over French fries. But he’d honored nothing, not even their childhood friendship. “He stole from me. And he wasn’t going to tell me.” That much was clear. “I went to see Rupert Harper today. He’s going to represent me in this case.”
According to Rupert, it was going to be drawn out and messy and cost her a small fortune. There went the money she needed to pay for her transmission.
Damn you, Booker.
“Well”—Clarice slapped her palms on her pink polyester pants—“you’ve picked up the pieces of your life rather quickly. More quickly than Booker, who—from what I hear—hasn’t come out of his office since you stormed away from the Burger Shack.”
“You mean the Burger & Sammie Shack.” Apparently, a broken heart made Kimmy snarky.
“It will always be the Burger Shack to me.” Clarice waved a thin hand. “Just like your memories of Booker will always be tied to your grill.”
Kimmy tried to speak but she didn’t know what to say, so only a strangled noise came out of her mouth.
“Anyway…” Clarice petted the cat in long strokes, head to tail. “I don’t think you should hide from the wedding tomorrow with Spanky.”
“Skippy.”
“That’s why I came here with a solution to your problems.” Clarice drew herself up. “I want you to go to the wedding, and I’d like to be your plus-one.”
Booker was waiting for Dante in the kitchen when he got home on Friday night.
His little brother carried his skateboard and a teenage smirk.
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