June reached out to grab the empty pitcher from Katie’s hands as they stepped into their shared little kitchen with its buttercup-colored walls and French-blue accents. Though Katie loved it in there, it was really June’s domain. Her friend had been employed at Peach Leaf Pizza since high school and was now the manager. While June enjoyed her work, deep down she hoped to open her own bakery someday. Katie often wished her friend could have her dream job sooner, rather than having to work so long to save up enough to buy a venue. Then they would both have careers they really loved...
Katie stopped what she was doing for a second as the awful recollection of her conversation with her boss pummeled into her with fresh intensity. She would have to tell June; in fact, there were a lot of unpleasant arrangements that would soon require attention. She wasn’t even certain she’d be able to continue living there in the shared home that had become her sanctuary after Bradley left.
So much for the stability she wanted desperately to give her unborn baby.
Katie pulled in a steadying breath and managed to pick her heart up from the floor before June’s cheery voice cut through. “I just cannot believe it. I always told you this day would come.”
“Well,” Katie said, her voice sounding thinner than she’d intended, “you’d better believe it because there he is. And it’s not what you think—” she aimed what she hoped was a cautionary look at June “—so don’t get any ideas in that wild imagination of yours.”
June ignored her and pulled a large container of lemonade out of the refrigerator. She refilled the pitcher while Katie pulled her friend’s fresh cobbler from the oven, the scent of warm vanilla and peaches, purchased from local farm stands and stored up for the winter months, filling the room—the perfect end to a lovely meal of rosemary-lemon chicken and potato salad. “And you expect me to believe you don’t feel anything for him anymore, after the history you two share? Time can’t erase everything, Katie.”
How right she was.
June studied her friend’s face and Katie shrugged, setting the warm dish of cobbler on a blue ceramic trivet, focusing her attention on the deepening twilight outside the kitchen window.
Katie’s heart gave a little kick at the mention of her and Ryan’s past. She’d come to anticipate the feeling by now. A few long-term relationships, the most recent failed but resulting in a welcome new life, and now the threat of unemployment, had done little to ease the ache that his leaving her caused back in high school. But she’d learned to ignore its presence, like a phantom pain after the loss of a limb. Nothing she couldn’t handle.
Katie pulled her gaze away from the window and pointed to a cabinet up high. June opened it effortlessly, her six-foot frame towering over Katie, who held out her hands to accept the china dessert plates she intended to use for the first time. “That’s just the thing, June bug—it’s history. In the past.” She glanced at the stack of plates as she set them on the counter next to the cobbler dish. “Just like Bradley.”
June squeezed Katie’s shoulder affectionately. “At least you’re finally going to use these babies.”
Katie grinned. The four-place china setting was supposed to be June’s housewarming present to Katie when she and Bradley bought the house they’d been admiring together, a gift June had worked extra hours to save for. When Katie told June she was returning the lot so June could have her money back after Bradley called off their plans and had the Realtor shred the house contract, June had insisted they keep and use it. The irony that its first guest would be Ryan Ford didn’t escape Katie.
“Can I just say one more thing, though, and then I’ll stop talking about him? I promise.”
Katie tossed a skeptical look at her housemate. “What do they say about making promises you can’t keep?”
June stuck out her tongue. “All right, fine. So maybe it won’t be the very last thing.”
“Uh-huh,” Katie said.
“It’s just that...well...he’s hot.” Mischief shone in June’s eyes as she glanced at Katie. “I noticed you left that part out when you texted to let me know you two were headed up the drive.”
Despite herself, Katie burst out laughing as she slid a third spoonful of cobbler onto one of the delicate black-and-white-patterned plates she’d picked out for her life with Bradley not so long ago. “I guess I just don’t think of him that way. He was my friend when we were kids. I mean, the guy used to throw water balloons at me and run up behind me to shove me into the pool when I least expected it.” She set the spoon aside and wiped her hands on a dishcloth. “Not exactly the stuff of fairy tales.”
June just blinked, clearly not convinced.
Katie shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, fine,” she said, arranging the plates on a tray with the refreshed pitcher of lemonade. “He does look good. I’ll admit that much.”
“What looks good?”
Katie started abruptly at the warm, low sound of Ryan’s voice coming from the kitchen archway, but caught herself in time to recover before she turned to face him. “Oh, we were just admiring June’s baking.” She pulled in a deep breath as she busied herself again with the tray. “It’s unparalleled in Texas.” She winked at June, who looked a little too pleased with herself. Catching the beginning of a grin on her friend’s lips, Katie shot June a warning look.
What? June mouthed silently, and Katie deployed the stern expression she saved for rare occasions when kids got too rambunctious at the museum.
“Yep, it’s true,” June said, holding Katie’s gaze, “this is one of my favorite recipes. I love how the peaches are so ripe and delicious. They’re just gorgeous.” She winked at Katie.
The nerve.
Evidently Katie’s laser-of-doom glare didn’t work on women over twenty-five.
Some of Ryan’s earlier discomfort at joining the two women for dinner seemed to have dissipated and, apparently oblivious to the ulterior meaning of the conversation going on about him, he rubbed his hands together and beamed. “Looks amazing, June,” he said, turning then to Katie. “Can I take that tray from you?”
Katie regained her composure and nodded. “Of course. Thanks.” She handed it over and let Ryan start out of the kitchen before she jabbed her elbow into June’s side as they followed him through the open sliding-glass door and out onto the lantern-lit patio. He placed the tray onto a turquoise-painted picnic table and sat down just as June’s cat, Harold, pounced onto the bench next to him, and Katie and June settled on the seat across.
“He likes you,” June offered with a smile. “He doesn’t feel that way about most people, especially those of the male variety.”
“What she means,” Katie said as she passed out each plate, “is that he’s kind of a jerk.”
June pretended to look offended, though she knew as well as anyone that her own cat—the cat she and Katie adored in equal measure—was the most irritable feline who ever lived. “He’s just...particular is all,” June said, taking a sip of lemonade.
Katie tucked a fork into her dessert and held it up to cool. “Well, he’s a terrible judge of character,” she argued. “The first night I moved in, he used my suitcase as a litter box, leaving me with nothing to wear to work the next day.”
June had a naughty look in her eyes. “He was just giving you a warm welcome,” she soothed, and Katie nearly choked on her own laughter.
Ryan chuckled, too, and the three of them ate in silence as a welcome October breeze swept over the deck, causing the flames to dance on the citronella candles scattered about. Katie was thankful