Sparks lit.
A faint glimmer.
A glow of what could never be.
“You guys have a great day,” she said, cinnamon eyes jumping around to land on each of us.
“Bye, Dakota. See you soon,” Caleb and Ezra both said.
I turned over the slip, pulse catching when I read what was on the other side, her swirly handwriting woven deep into the paper.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Shouldn’t take it as something it was not.
But it never failed to stab me in the guts.
Love is on the house.
SEVEN
DAKOTA
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I didn’t whirl around or gasp with the gravelly voice that hit me from behind. Why, when I already knew he was there? That dark intensity wisping through the air and curling over me like a blanket.
Both comfort and something so utterly uncomfortable I wasn’t sure I could ever make sense of it.
I already knew he’d come, the way he always did, so I chucked him a saucy grin from over my shoulder where I was bent over the front of my desk, my laptop shifted around so I could look up a sales order to check for when it was scheduled for delivery.
“Working,” I told him, and I tried not to get hung up on the way he had a shoulder leaned against the jamb of my office door, every sinewy inch of him cocked in an easy casualness that still looked like you might get electrocuted if you got too close.
His edges so sharp they could cut with a glance.
Not that or the way his gaze seemed to snap up from where it’d been locked on my backside. I just hoped my dress wasn’t hiked up so high that my underwear was showing.
He scoffed, stuffing those tatted hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You have to stop doing that.” It grated from those plush lips.
“And what would that be?” I asked, shifting around and propping myself against the wood of my desk.
He pushed off, coming closer, the ground doing that trembling thing as he took a step my direction, then another until he was right in front of me.
Towering tall.
Sweet severity dripped from every inch of his flesh.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled, though there was a softness to it. “Thinking you have to comp my meal every time I come in.”
My head barely shook. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Something flashed through that gunmetal gaze.
Something stark.
Potent.
“We are like family,” I rushed to clarify, holding back the automatic response that I really wanted to give.
The truth that this restaurant wouldn’t exist without him.
But every time I brought up the money, he got angry and insisted it was mine.
A gift.
But there was no way I wasn’t paying him back. It just didn’t feel right. I was getting close to being able to.
He exhaled a short breath, and he angled in closer, his whispered words breezing across my face. “Yeah, we are. But that doesn’t mean you need to be tossing out what you have to offer for free. You worked hard for this place, and I want to support it.” He hesitated for a beat before he muttered, “I want to support you.”
Did he have any idea how much he’d already done that?
That I could never ask him for more?
“And maybe I just like feeding you.” Somehow my voice had gone choppy where I was pinned to my desk with an inch separating us, shallow as I stared at him as he gazed down at me.
His gaze drifted, landing on the metal box I kept on my desk. My nickname was etched on the lid, and I wondered if it made me pathetic that it was my most prized possession, every recipe I’d ever created tucked inside like a treasure.
“You’ve always liked feeding me, haven’t you? Taking care of me?”
“I thought that’s what we do for each other.” It came out a rasp.
A breath.
Air that stirred and danced.
An entrancing vapor that I’d gotten sucked into.
I screeched when another voice came from out of nowhere.
“Hey.”
Caught off guard, I fumbled and gasped, flustered as I tried to push out from under Ryder while angling far enough around him to find my brother standing in the doorway to my office.
Ryder peeled himself back, totally unaffected, so cool as he shifted to face my brother while I fidgeted as if I’d been caught doing something salacious.
But I was pretty sure mine and Ryder’s versions of salacious were entirely different.
Cody had both hands pressed to either side of the doorway and was leaning in. My brother was 6’2”, wide and thick, wearing worn jeans and work boots and a thin button-up flannel. His hair was short and the same color as mine, a full beard on his face.
“Hey, man. What’s up?” Ryder asked him, crossing his arms over his chest while I clung to the edge of my desk, worried my knees might not be strong enough to keep me upright if I let go.
Especially when my brother’s gaze jumped between us, narrowed and full of speculation.
I didn’t know what he thought he needed to be worried about.
Just because my mind kept dreaming it up didn’t mean there’d ever been anything going on between us.
Cody must have realized it, too, because he grinned at Ryder. “Was just grabbing a to-go order and wanted to say hi to my sister. Didn’t know you were here.”
“Yeah, had lunch with the cousins,” Ryder said. “I was telling Dakota goodbye before I head out.”
I finally gathered myself enough that I could pry myself from the desk. “Hey, Cody. How’s it going?”
A full smile climbed to his mouth. “You know how it’s going. Got word it was Monte Cristo Day, which we all know really means Best Day Ever, and I came running.”
I couldn’t stop the affection-filled giggle. “It means that much to you, huh?”
He shrugged, the man nothing but a burly brute. “Sure does. Because my baby sister loves me and knows her Monte Cristos are literally the sustenance of life. I was about to die, it’s been so long since I’ve had one.”
So yeah, I had a thing about making my family’s favorites.
It was the way I expressed how I truly felt about them.
The way I showed them my love.
I eased around Ryder, ignoring the buzz in the air, the vestiges of his close proximity still flickering across my flesh as I moved to my brother.
I popped up on my toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You know I only bring them back around for you.”
“That’s right.”
“Excuse me, I like me a good Monte Cristo, too.” Ryder’s playful voice hit me from behind.
Cody’s grin turned smug. “That’s because you don’t count, my friend. Hell, this place wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for me. Who was it that Dakota continually baked for when she was a little girl, testing her recipes out on? Who encouraged her to step out and take the chance and make it happen when she got older? Who tells her every damned day she’s the best baker who ever lived?”
I bit down on my lip.
Ryder, Cody. It had always been Ryder.
Because Cody might have always supported me, but it was Ryder who’d given me the courage to chase my dreams.
EIGHT
DAKOTA
SIX YEARS OLD
Dakota stood on a stool at the kitchen counter next to her momma. A big silver mixing bowl was in front of them, and Dakota’s momma helped her hold up the big bag of flour so she could pour it into the measuring cup.
Her arms strained from the weight, but Dakota knew she was big and strong, and she totally could do it. Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth as she concentrated. “All the way to the two, right?”
“That’s right.”
When it hit the line, Dakota grinned and let go of the bag. “There.”
Soft laughter rippled from her momma.
Dakota loved that sound.
It was warm and made her feel as squishy and comfortable as it did when she snuggled up in her bed.
Her momma said since she was six, she was finally old enough to cook, even though she was constantly telling her to be careful so she didn’t burn herself.
Dakota had only done it once, and she thought she’d learned her lesson and she wasn’t ever gonna do it again.