Part 6 (1/2)

”Just hold on,” I said, defeating Zara in tic-tac-toe with a vicious diagonal line. I redrew for another game before she could notice. ”Saying we both like food is like saying we both enjoy breathing oxygen. It is no basis for a love connection. And what's his boss Howie up to here, anyway, at this 'diner'?” I made quotation marks with clenched claws. ”Is this some kind of cult-y diner? Everything is vegan? Are we talking meat-subst.i.tutes here, because I told you about my bacon waiting for me in my brand new, stainless steel fridge. Seitan is just what it sounds like. Lucifer-” I took a breath to open the menu and felt my salivary glands kicking in.

”I love that girl's name!” Zara said. ”I'm going to name my Barbie Suns.h.i.+ne Ruby Mae Henrick right when we get home.”

”Barbeeeeee!” Dane said. He was gripping an oversized crayon over his kids' menu and coloring an oversized drawing of French toast.

”Charlie,” Jack said, one arm holding Polly, the other spinning some kind of psychedelic rainbow mobile in front of her face. ”You know you're in the Pacific Northwest when your waitress's name is Suns.h.i.+ne.” He shook his head and went back to getting his baby stoned with a toy.

Zara paused in her coloring. ”I have a girl in my cla.s.s named Begonia. And a boy named Cloud.”

Manda shrugged under my gaze. ”People are allowed to make their own decisions, Charlie. You might surprise yourself. When your own little one is looking up at you one day, your entire body heavy and tired after you've pushed out the placenta-”

”Eww.” I shuddered. ”Please don't mention any more birthing details before breakfast.”

”You might, in that moment, think, 'This child is called to have the name Maple.' You will feel it in the depths of your bones.”

I scowled, turning my shoulders more deeply to one side so my back was to the kitchen. ”Maple is not a real name.”

”Totally is,” she said, nodding thanks to Suns.h.i.+ne, who had delivered her tea. ”And androgynous. Works for boy or girl.”

”What's wrong with Sam?” Jack said with sudden vehemence. ”Or Jane? Or John?” He handed Polly across the table and into Manda's arms. ”Why must we wonder if it's a girl or a boy when we see the kid's name on the cla.s.s list for his or her whole life?”

This sparked a spirited dialogue between Manda and Jack, during which I played roughly eighty-seven games of tic-tac-toe with Zara and eighty-seven games of pretend tic-tac-toe with Dane. I loved hearing Jack push Manda's b.u.t.tons and watching her erupt, curls bouncing. I also loved the way Jack laughed in exasperation at his p.r.i.c.kly wife, and the way she watched him with smitten eyes. I nearly forgot how cruel and unusual they were to conspire against me for a breakfast blind date. All in the name of fun, but, inevitably, these meetings left me feeling more empty-hearted than when I'd walked in.

b.u.t.termilk pancakes weren't typically equipped to fill gaping holes in one's heart, but the ones I ate that day at Howie's came pretty darn close. My first bite of Wilma's Cakes made my mouth water while eating. They were spongy and light but still had some gumption. The b.u.t.termilk seemed to be paired with something fantastic-sour cream? Creme frache? Not here, certainly ... There were subtle notes of nutmeg and cinnamon, just the right touch without the pancake turning into a spice fest.

I moaned when I bit into a raspberry m.u.f.fin.

”Exactly,” Manda said, her eyes closed around the joy of a pecan roll. ”Better than you-know-what.”

”Watch it, now,” Jack said, but without heart. His bacon, asparagus, and goat cheese omelet was nearly gone, but he ate with one protective arm curled around his plate in defense anyway.

”Everything tasting all right?”

I looked up, startled from my happy pancake moment. Kai stood at the head of our table, but the diner was so packed, he had to lean forward slightly to allow room behind him. I tried not to notice how close he was to me.

Jack reached above Zara's head to offer Kai a hand. ”Wow. We heard about your restaurant from the Harpers, but honestly, we thought they were exaggerating. Dude, they were not.”

Kai ducked his chin to receive the compliment. ”Thanks a lot. I'm happy we didn't disappoint.” He turned to the junior members at the table for a round of fist b.u.mps. ”Everybody like their food?”

Zara fulfilled her duties as spokeschild as Dane was occupied with finger-painting circles in a puddle of leftover syrup. ”The waffles were perfect, but next time, can I have chocolate chips in them? But not carob because carob is revolting.”

”Absolutely.” Kai nodded a military a.s.sent. ”And carob is revolting.”

I couldn't hold it in any longer. ”Why didn't you tell me you were a chef?” I snipped. If I could have wedged a hand onto my hip in defiance, I would have.

He looked at me, amused. ”Well, for one thing, I'm not a chef. I'm a cook. At a diner. Not exactly Michelin stars and all that.”

I winced to remember how that must have sounded. ”You misled me. You said nothing about this.” I gestured to the bustling room, my empty plate.

”I don't remember you asking much about me,” he said, a bemused smile settling in. ”Also, are you always this intense? You know, some people just have conversations instead of interrogations.”

Manda cleared her throat. ”So, apparently you two have met. No need for the whole 'Kai, Charlie, Charlie, Kai' thing. And yes, Kai, she's always this intense. But very likeable. And a fantastic baker. And athletic!”

”And I have a strong 401K!” I erupted, my cheeks en fuego. ”Enough!”

Kai laughed with his eyes and his mouth. I wanted to hear him do it again as soon as possible. ”Listen,” he said. He leaned both arms on the table and settled his gaze on me.

I swallowed.

”I'm a cook at Howie's Diner. I hope this doesn't freak you out, but I actually own the diner, which may or may not be a good thing in your world. We've only been open a year, but I think we're doing okay. Howie was my grandpa's name and I named the pancakes after my grandma. My 401K is pathetic, but I hope you can get over that. Because even though Manda appears to have been right about your control issues and your food sn.o.bbery, you do have a great smile.”

I bit my lower lip, my heart pounding into my s.h.i.+rt.

”And you look much prettier without the scowl.”

Manda sighed. ”I've been telling her that since she moved to New York. Thank you for agreeing with me. She totally looks prettier without it.”

Kai kept his eyes on mine. ”Totally.”

”Pretty sure an insult with a compliment equals an insult,” I said.

He ignored my words. In fact, he appeared to be ignoring everyone in the room but me. ”Are you free for dinner tonight? I'll cook.”

I made a face. ”Or I can cook. I do know how.”

”So that's a yes, Intensity Freak?” He had delightful lips, this one. They were distracting.

”Yes,” I said. ”But no. No, I can't tonight.” My thoughts returned to the pile of papers on my floor, the pastry kitchen at Thrill, the email from the management team asking for my final notes on Tuesday's opening menu.

”Okay,” Kai shrugged. ”Tomorrow.”

”No.” I shook my head. ”I can't tomorrow. Or this week. I'm sorry, but I'm starting as the new head pastry chef at a restaurant downtown, and I can't even think about anything but that right now.”

Manda vouched for me. ”She's not brus.h.i.+ng you off. I had to kidnap her for breakfast.”

Kai ran a hand through his hair. His eyes traveled back to the kitchen and a stack of order slips piling up on the metal wheel. ”I get it.” He thought for a moment, then turned back to me. ”Your next day off, then. Meet me here at lunch. I'll feed you, and then we'll see what happens.” He was already backing up, answering the call of the bell Suns.h.i.+ne kept ringing to get his attention. She glanced at me, then Kai, then rang it again for emphasis.

”Great to catch up with you guys,” Kai called back over the din of the room. ”And really good to see you again, Chef.” He winked before letting the kitchen door swing to a close.

I shook my head slowly when I pulled my attention back to our table. ”Now what?” I demanded of Manda and Jack, my eyes two question marks.

”Boom!” Jack said with a fist pump. ”I'm not usually one for subtext, but even I could see the chemistry there. See, Char? Totally not creepy.”

I sighed. ”And just how does he fit into a sixty-hour work week, a cross-country move, a commercial kitchen, and an ex-boyfriend boss?”

Manda ate the final bite of her pecan roll. ”When a man can cook like this, look like that, and give you the sa.s.s you desperately need,” she said, locking eyes with Jack, ”I think you'll figure it out.”