“She’s been busting her ass to prep everything.” Pride surges in my chest.
Mrs. Mac motions toward her. “Did you know she sent press releases to every newspaper in South Texas? She got our event in those weekend calendars in the San Antonio and Austin papers. The smarty pants advertised it as a Christmas event, so that probably doubled our attendance.” She chuckles. “We thought we were just putting up a few little fruit stands.”
I’m not surprised Katherine went all out, but I wonder why she never mentioned all of the publicity she’s done.
“She didn’t even tell you about that, did she?” Mrs. Mac doesn’t wait for me to answer. “No, of course not. Because that’s her way. She just does what needs to be done.”
My attention drifts back to Kat, who is standing behind our stand, talking to customers. Her hair is braided and hangs down her shoulder. Her flannel red shirt fits snug to her slender body, hugging all of her curves in a way that makes my mouth water.
Those bright eyes cut across to mine, and Kat shoots me one of those smiles I feel all the way down to my boots.
Mrs. Mac clears her throat, and I remember we’re in the middle of a conversation. I return my attention to her, and she gives me a wink.
“You’ll never do better than Katherine Duran. And even though her father is gonna give you hell, just remember that she is one hundred percent worth it.”
My mouth drops open. I don’t know what to say. Telling her this isn’t permanent enough to meet her father feels like the biggest dickhead thing to bring up. Never mind that the idea of not being with Kat is damn near soul-crushing.
Mrs. Mac pats my shoulder like she knows the extent of my confusion. “Son, you’re a good man. Worlds better than that fiancé of hers. Don’t let her get away.”
What the fuck?
Fiancé?
She chuckles. “Ex-fiancé, I should say. Good riddance.” She waves her hand like she didn’t just drop a bomb on me. “Spoiled senator’s son. Oh, he said all of the right things, but I knew he was a cad. I’m glad Kat figured it out. Besides, you’re a much better catch.”
And with that, she strolls off, leaving me in more turmoil than I should be feeling for a relationship that doesn’t technically exist.
Fiancé.
All afternoon it bothers me.
That word clangs around in my head until I have half a mind to sit Kat down and make her tell me what happened.
But I don’t.
Because we don’t have that kind of relationship, I remind myself. She never asks about my exes because she understands our boundaries.
Not that we ever drew a line in the sand and said, hey, no discussing former relationships, but we’ve both avoided the subject. I get that that’s only something you do when you’re moving forward, and as much as it bugs the fuck out of me, Kat and I are in a holding pattern as we wait for me to leave.
But it’s not like I can give up my life in Boston for a woman I’ve known for a month. That would be crazy. Right up there with my brother eloping with a girl he’d known for, what? Two weeks? Insanity.
Vowing to keep my big, fat mouth shut, I finish folding the last table as Kat closes up the barn.
I stand on the porch watching the last truck roll down the driveway as she trudges up the stairs. When the Macs offered to take Izzy for the night, I jumped at the chance to veg out with Kat. She put Pizza Hut on speed dial so I’d have it handy for such an occasion. I’ve already phoned in our order.
“You did a great job, killer.” I pull her in for a hug. Her arms wrap around me, and she sighs. “You sold out of everything, didn’t you?”
She nods, a little smile pulling at her lips. “Before I forget, you need to call this guy Frank.” She pulls a business card out of her back pocket. “He runs some fragrance company, and he likes our stuff.”
“Your stuff.”
“What?” Her nose scrunches, and those black-rimmed glasses slide down her nose.
“He liked your stuff.” When she doesn’t say anything, I laugh. “It’s okay. I know you’re not going to take credit for all of those products you sold, but between us, I’ve figured out that those were all your creations.” I let that sink in before I prod. “Right?” When she doesn’t respond, I squeeze her tighter. “You don’t diminish anything Cal and Melissa built by taking credit. But I know enough about this place to realize the only reason Melissa started making those soaps is because of you.”
After a moment, she asks, “How do you know?”
I let go of her and lean back against the porch railing. “This place has been in the red for years. I’ve spent the last few weeks digging through bank statements and sales receipts. I know Mel got some life insurance from her father, and maybe that helped keep this place afloat for a while, but it wasn’t until she rolled out a line of bath products that she had any hope of being financially stable. And I’m guessing that had everything to do with you.”