I’m not sure what I was expecting Kat to say, but this isn’t it. But everything about this girl screams resilience, so I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s the daughter of migrant workers.
When those beautiful hazel eyes look up at me, they’re guarded, but she continues. “One day, we ended up here. Mel’s dad Bob ran it at the time. I don’t know what happened to her mom. I got the impression she hightailed it when Mel was little. My parents helped harvest and did odd jobs for a while.” She reaches for her hair and braids it as she talks. “Mel’s dad offered to let us stay on, but my father didn’t feel right accepting when there wasn’t much to do, so my family moved to another farm near Dallas. We eventually settled down in Corpus.”
I smile as I tug on her braid. “Okay, Anne of Green Gables, so how did you and Melissa end up being best buds?”
She laughs. “How do you know who Anne of Green Gables is?”
“I might be a momma’s boy. She likes those books.”
Toying with a button on her dress, which I notice is now open along her toned thigh, she grins back, and Jesus, that smile. It’s luminous. “Well, your momma has good taste. Those are great books.” Smiling, she adds, “Mel and I got close after I wrote her a postcard telling her how much fun I had here that summer and thanking her for being so nice to me.”
She shrugs, looking a little shy. “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. It was tough when we moved so often. People don’t always treat migrant workers well. And it’s hard to find common ground with the other kids at school. They return from summer break talking about vacations and Disneyland, and I spent most of that time picking cotton. Anyway, Mel wrote me back, and we stayed in touch from then on.”
God, I can only imagine a young Kat, all big eyes and beaming smiles, her lush, dark hair twisted in a braid, and I have the sudden urge to hurt the assholes who were cruel to her and her family when she was a kid.
“Did you guys live here in the house back then too?”
Kat shakes her head, her face reddening before she whispers, “We slept in our van at a rest stop just off the highway.”
It takes a full minute to process what she says.
What the holy fuck?
I try to school my features because I don’t want to offend her. But Jesus. It makes me realize how easy I’ve had it my whole life.
A declaration like that requires a drink. I pour us shots and hold up my glass. “To being a badass.”
Her eyes linger on the shot glass as though she’s warring with herself about taking another. Ultimately, she grabs it and shoots me one of her killer smiles. “Says the pot.”
My grin widens. This girl. I’m busy staring at her, seeing her with new eyes, when she clears her throat.
“So, um, is your girlfriend back home gonna be freaked out that you’re bringing home a baby?”
Cute. She’s so damn cute. I can’t lie—her fishing for details about me feels pretty good.
Blowing out a breath, I think about how to answer that question. “No girlfriend. No wife. Poor Izzy is going to have to accept that her uncle can’t coordinate her outfits for shit.” I laugh and run my hands through my hair. “Been flying solo for a while, I guess.”
Her eyebrows lift. “You guess?”
How exactly do I explain Gwen and I were only fucking? Yeah, I don’t.
“Maybe I should say the last girl I saw wasn’t serious. For either of us.” She nods, and I can’t help but ask the obvious question. “And you?”
“I broke up with my boyfriend just before coming here.”
I wait for her to tell me more, but she doesn’t. “Was it serious?”
She rolls her lips between her teeth. “Serious enough.”
I want to know what that means, but deep down, I realize I shouldn’t be delving too deep. It’s not like anything can happen here. I live in Boston. She lives in Texas. End of story. Fortunately, the doorbell stops me from asking anything I’ll regret tomorrow.
When I return a few minutes later with a pizza and dessert, she makes this little sound.
I pause as I balance boxes of food in my arms. “Did you just purr?”
A giggle escapes her. “Maybe. I’m just really excited about the pizza.”
“Clearly.”
We chow down for a bit, barely pausing to breathe. I'm feeling so much lighter since we talked about Cal. I didn't realize how much that was weighing on me.
I find myself watching Kat as she munches on a slice of hand-tossed. There's something so disarming about her. Maybe it’s her laugh or that easy smile. Maybe it’s the way her eyes brighten when she’s amused. Whatever it is, I like that I can talk to her. But even more, I like that she opens up to me.
After our second piece, she licks her lips and sighs. “How is it that Pizza Hut is this good? If I were on a deserted island and could only pick one food for all of eternity, it would be this mushroom pepperoni pizza.”
“Hey, there’s an idea. Maybe I can pay you in pizza.” I chuckle as I shovel in another bite, but when I glance at Kat, she’s frowning.