Taste: A Love Story

by Tracy Ewens

  “You know, I was in the back, doing all the work”—Travis pushed through the door from the back kitchen—“and I heard parts of this conversation. Was someone talking about me?”

  “We were discussing man-whores, so yes, Travis you fit that category.” Makenna swept into the dustpan and slid past him to empty it.

  “Man-whore is a harsh label, Ken. I prefer being called a field researcher.”

  Logan shook his head as he gathered up the rolled silverware and brought it to the server’s station.

  “You’re going to want to back away slowly.” He passed Travis. “You’re outnumbered.”

  “Nah, these ladies love me.”

  Sage threw a towel in his face and Makenna laughed.

  “Oh, and now on top of everything else I’m running around doing things half-assed, Paige tells me yesterday no one makes lunch like Uncle Rogan.” Makenna put away the broom as Logan came back into the bar.

  “That’s my girl. Great memory too, I mean, when was the last time I made her lunch?”

  “What are you talking about? You make her lunch at least two or three times a week. Every time I forget her lunch box here, the next morning it always has what she’s now calling ‘a gourmet lunch’ in it. So, thanks for that.”

  “Kenna, I’m not making Paige’s lunch. You do forget her lunch box all the time, but I haven’t been putting anything in it. I just assumed you picked something up on those mornings.”

  Makenna sat down on one of the barstools. Sage was now cleaning out her fruit and olive bins and Travis had gone back into the kitchen.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re not filling Paige’s lunch box with sandwiches made on homemade bread and giving her some kind of fruit salad she talks about nonstop? You’re not responsible for why my daughter now makes me buy hummus?”

  Logan shook his head, trying to replay some of those hectic mornings.

  “Well, then who the hell is?” Makenna asked.

  At that moment, Travis came out of the kitchen holding his bag and helmet.

  “We’re all good back there. If you don’t need me for anything, I’m gonna take off.” He rounded the bar.

  Makenna was still dumbfounded, but Logan figured it out as soon as he saw Travis making his getaway.

  “He is.” Logan was just as shocked as his sister was about to be.

  “What?” Disbelief hit her eyes.

  “Travis—he’s making Paige’s lunch.”

  She laughed. As Travis walked past her toward the door, Logan nodded to his sister.

  “Wait,” Makenna said and Travis stopped just short of his escape. She walked over and stepped between him and the door.

  “Is that true? You make Paige’s lunch?”

  Travis smiled and Logan could see him trying for casual, but it was no use. Douche bags didn’t make lunch to help out frazzled single moms. Man-whores didn’t make fruit salad complete with heart-shaped strawberries for little girls to brag about at the lunch table.

  “It’s not a big deal. Sometimes I notice you forget her lunch box. Instead of leaving it hanging around, I throw a sandwich in it, save you a trip in the morning.” He moved to go around Kenna who was still dumbstruck.

  She tilted her head up because Travis was almost the size of two of her. Sage and Logan were both silent, like they were watching two animals on one of those National Geographic shows Paige loved so much.

  Makenna watched him, seemingly trying to figure him out, and then she went up on her tiptoes, leaned her hand on his chest, and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  Logan could see Travis’s chest moving in and out, but other than that, there were no signs of life.

  “Now that you’ve spoiled her, she’s instructed me to forget her lunch box every night after school.” Makenna’s voice was soft, almost gentle.

  The whole scene was a bit surreal.

  “You’re welcome, and let Paige know I’m taking special requests,” Travis finally said.

  Makenna laughed. “Oh, you are in big trouble now.”

  Travis’s face warmed, and Logan wasn’t sure why it didn’t make him uncomfortable to have his best friend locked on his sister that way, but it didn’t. The energy between the two felt genuine, so real, that Sage literally sighed and rested her arms on her bar.

  “It’s good trouble.” Travis moved past her. “Goodnight guys.” He glanced back toward the bar. “’Night, Makenna.” The words hung between them for a beat, and then he was gone.

  Makenna stood staring after Travis, then sat down and said nothing.

  Before Logan could get up and lock the door behind Travis, Kara came through the front door.

  “I know this is a bad time, that you’re closed and probably tired, but I needed—” Kara stopped when she saw Makenna and Sage. “Oh. Hi. How’d everything go tonight?” she asked.

  “Great.” Sage looked at Makenna who was already collecting her things.

  “We were just leaving.” Sage pulled her bag from behind the bar.

  “Right, I’ve got to get home.” Makenna slid past Logan and left out the front.

  Sage was right behind her and Logan turned to lock the door.

  He followed Kara back into the bar and closed the blinds on the three windows. She was clearly upset and he thought it best to wait her out.

  “I’m trying to find myself.”

  Logan turned and tried not to look confused.

  Kara laughed.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have started with that. Eloise had her birthday party today.”

  “Oh, that’s great. How old is she?”

  “Three.”

  “So, you must have hung out after the party?” Logan was trying to make conversation until he could figure out why she’d shown up at 11:30.

  “Jake said I hide and that I only do things or associate with people my parents approve of.”

  Ah, Logan thought, now we’re getting somewhere.

  “Do you want some tea? I can see if we have some in the back.”

  “I don’t want tea.”

  “Okay, well I’m sure Jake doesn’t know what it’s like dealing with the press or all the other crap. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No, I don’t want to talk.”

  “Right. Sure, come here.” Logan took her into his arms.

  “I need you. I’m at your door again, Logan.” She looked up at him. Her eyes told him exactly what she meant, but he needed to clarify before he made an ass out of himself.

  “What does that mean, Kara?”

  “It means so many things, and I don’t want to figure them all out right now. I just want you to find me, Logan. See me.”

  She put her hand on his chest, and he stopped.

  “Make your move, Logan, or I will.”

  He smiled at his own words being thrown back at him in a much sexier voice.

  “Well, normally I would say ladies first, princess, but I think I’ll take this one myself.” On the last breath, he kissed her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Last chance to call this off.” Logan held her as they stumbled into the kitchen.

  “This is a bad idea, right?” Kara tugged at his shirt. “Take this off.”

  “Probably one of our worst.” He pulled his shirt over his head.

  “Oh dear God, it does go onto your chest.” Kara ran her hands up his tattooed arm, along his collarbone, and down his stomach.

  Logan unbuttoned her blouse. “Kara, things are great right now and I don’t want you to do this and then regret . . . Oh Jesus”—the silk blouse fell off her shoulders—“forget it. Best idea I’ve had in a long time, maybe even ever.”

  He backed her up until they hit the wood counter of his kitchen.

  “I want you to know that I recognize the cliché here, that I cook and I’m getting ready to devour you on the kitchen counter. I get it and while I’d love to lay you down and love you all over my actual bed, I never seem to leave this damn place, so k
itchen counter it is.”

  With that, Logan swiped his arm across the counter and sent steel bowls and tomatoes flying. He pulled her in and his body pulsed, as his breathing became urgent. His hands dug into her sides as he lifted her onto the counter and then reached behind her to knock the last couple of bowls out of their way. Gently laying her back, he slid her body up the counter and removed her jeans. As he ran his hands up her bare, long legs he realized she’d been eating. Her body was glowing. It was nourished and so damn sexy, he thought he was going to lose his mind. He undid the buttons of his jeans and hoisted himself onto the counter. Slowly crawling her body, he kissed soft skin he recognized from a distant memory, now fresh and different. Kara’s hands went into his hair, caressing and then pulling. He could feel her need as he kissed his way past her stomach, to the dip in the center of her chest.

  She sighed and reached for him. “Logan.”

  “Right here, princess. At your service.” He gave her a wicked smile, still hovering over her body.

  Kara laughed. “Get up here.” She tugged on his hair.

  “Hang on, I just got to one, well two, of my favorite parts.”

  He teased his way around her body and slowly brought her from playful to near crazy. The things the man could do with his tongue, she thought as her hands clung to the sides of the wooden counter. Logan moved as if he had all the time in the world, as if they were on some tropical island instead of the massive counter in the middle of his kitchen. He met her eyes, smiled and her body hummed. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  “I . . .” was all that came out as he took her mouth again and finally pressed his body against her. Resting his weight on his forearms, Logan moved her hair out of her face, held her, and continued kissing her lips, pulling, dipping. He moved to her neck, behind her ear, and then he bit her earlobe. He seemed to know exactly what she craved.

  “You remember me,” fell out of her mouth, breathless.

  Logan’s gaze locked on hers.

  “There are some things a man never forgets. Your body, what turns you on and has you panting my name. Yeah, I’m never going to forget those things.”

  “I . . . I don’t pant.”

  Kara didn’t have time to say anything before he was gone again, kissing her hip bone, the back of her knees, and then he slowly removed the only thin strip of silk that was left on her body. Her body lifted toward him as he kicked off his own jeans and remained suspended in some sort of plank above her. Kara was never a fan of structured exercise, but if what Logan was doing actually was a plank, she could certainly get into that. He kissed her again, and then they slowly slid together. As he began to move, she felt as if her entire body might simply melt into him.

  “Okay, maybe I pant a little.” She was fighting for breath and he smiled, eyes hazy as if he recognized her again. He wanted to tell her something, but instead he moved one last time and they were both gone.

  “Do you remember the first time we . . .” Logan paused as if he wasn’t sure how to say it.

  “Had sex?” Kara added, shifting into him and smiling into his shoulder.

  “Yeah.” He laughed and pulled her closer, balancing them both on the counter he would never look at the same way again.

  “It was my first time, of course I remember it.”

  “Which I still don’t understand. How did you make it to twenty-one without someone . . .”

  “Have you seen my life? Not a lot of college guys clamoring to be a part of that mess.” Kara kissed his shoulder.

  “Well, I didn’t know your mess.”

  “And wasn’t that so wonderful?” She leaned against his chest and with each passing moment, the present was outdoing the past.

  “I guess it’s all how you look at it. We were in sort of a bubble.”

  “It was a great bubble, and that night in your tiny little apartment was the most spontaneous thing I’d ever done. I’d only known you forty-seven days.”

  “You counted?” He’d wanted her from week one, but even he hadn’t counted.

  “Sure, when I was berating myself for being reckless.”

  Logan laughed.

  “I got over it though. Turned out I really liked sex, so thank you for that.”

  “You sure did. And you’re quite welcome. I’m sure you’ve gone on to bigger and better things.” They both laughed.

  “I’ve actually become well versed in ‘me’ time.”

  Logan nearly rolled off the counter at the thought of Kara and—Christ, he’d never run that particular fantasy.

  “I . . . you got me. I’m speechless. All sorts of great new images are flooding my mind, but I can’t find my words.”

  “What? It’s perfectly natural to . . . help yourself in that department. Besides, I gave up on group play once my parents pulled me away from . . .”

  “From what?”

  “From the sunshine.” Kara sat up and slid off the counter.

  He joined her and jumped back into his jeans. As she buttoned her shirt, he turned her to face him. “I’m sorry, Kara.”

  “For what?”

  “For not seeing what all that did to you. I was so busy being pissed that you weren’t who you said you were, I never thought about you.”

  “We were young and why would you? I did lie to you.”

  “True.”

  She swatted him and pulled her jeans up.

  “Could we revisit the sex thing for a minute?”

  She laughed. “Sure.”

  “Since metaphors seem more comfortable here, when was the last time you had . . . group play?”

  Kara busied herself as if she was avoiding his question.

  “I’m hungry, are you hungry?” she asked.

  “I am. I’ll make us something. Kara?” He lifted her chin and their eyes met. He knew her answer before it came out of her mouth. Holy shit!

  “Stop looking at me that way. You don’t understand my life and when I left Paris I decided it was easier to shut down.”

  “I’m not looking at you any way.” But he knew it wasn’t true. He tried to erase the pity from his face, but that was what he was feeling. In what world did a woman so full and breathtaking hide herself away like that?

  “And don’t do that stupid Hallmark movie scene where you tell me you’re honored.”

  Logan belly laughed and she joined him.

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He pulled out two pans.

  “I’m not embarrassed.”

  “You look a little pink in the cheeks there, princess.”

  “Shut up. Make me something to eat, farm boy.”

  Logan was more than a little stunned that he was the only person Kara Malendar felt comfortable sharing the deep, hidden shiny parts of herself with. It was indeed an honor. A brilliant sunrise kind of honor, but there was no way he was going to tell her that.

  “So, this self play”—Logan decided to move on for both of their sakes as he came back from the walk-in with butter and cheese—“are spectators allowed to watch?”

  She laughed and threw a mushroom at him as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into him. Right before he kissed her for the hundredth time that night, a feeling washed over him, the one men write stupid poems and love songs about. He took to her mouth deeper and ran one hand up the side of her body, under her blouse, to the warm, well-loved curve of her breast. She reached up and took hold of the back of his neck and Logan didn’t care anymore if she was going to destroy him; it didn’t matter. He wanted to touch the sun, feel her warmth. That was all that mattered. Men throughout history had made the same stupid mistake and he was going to join them. He just hoped what he had to give would be enough.

  By the time they pulled apart again, the butter had softened. They made grilled cheese sandwiches. Logan swore by his blend of cheeses, thick crusty bread, and a grainy mustard Travis made in-house every week. Kara’s version was her take on brie and granny smith apples, with the fig jelly the restaurant had on hand
for their charcuterie.

  “Nice to see you in the kitchen again.” Logan popped the last piece of grilled cheese into his mouth.

  “Well, it’s a great kitchen.” Kara smiled and sipped her wine. “It’s beautiful, so personal. Not exactly the school kitchens, huh?”

  “You mean the assembly line from I Love Lucy?”

  Kara laughed. “It so was. Remember when that guy—I don’t remember his name—fell asleep during the browning butter demonstration?”

  “Victor!” Logan added laughing.

  “Dear God, no one ever fell asleep in class again.”

  “I’m pretty sure it took him a week to get that butter out of his hair. Remember he had that long ponytail that Madame kept telling him to—”

  “Tuck up, tuck up,” they both called out, now tearing up with laughter.

  Wrapped around each other, in one of the large booths, the plan was to head back to Logan’s place. But as the lull of sleep pulled them in, their bodies softened into one another. Kara lightly touched the colors of Logan’s arm.

  “What does all of this mean?” she asked, tracing her fingers along the lines of his tattoo.

  “It means a lot of things,” he said, barely awake.

  “Am I in there somewhere, Logan?”

  “Of course you are,” he replied unable to filter what he was saying because he was halfway in a dream. “All men get tattoos of the women who break their hearts, princess.”

  The last thing he remembered was her kiss.

  The next morning, Logan was warm and sleeping better than he had in months when he heard Garrett’s voice calling him. His foggy brain was beginning to process where he was and whose naked body was tangled around him under a blanket, but it was too late.

  “Well, it looks like someone had a slumber party.” Garrett’s voice resonated through the empty restaurant.

  Logan flew up, banging his shoulder on the curve of the table. He and Kara were still tucked into the large back booth.

  “I needed to make bread,” Logan offered as a pathetic, half-asleep explanation.

  “Making bread. Is that what you kids are calling it these days?” Garrett asked as Logan finally opened his eyes enough to glare at his obnoxious brother. Garrett was laughing, but at least had the decency to turn his back as Logan slipped into his jeans and Kara, wrapped in the blanket, tried to tiptoe someplace safe.