Page 100 of Cooking Up My Comeback
“Your kids make excellent teachers,” Brett says.
I raise an eyebrow. “Even when they’re being difficult?”
“Especially then. Difficult people usually have the most interesting perspectives.”
I laugh. “Your way of calling me interesting?”
He shrugs. “Among other adjectives.”
“What other adjectives?”
“Stubborn. Passionate. Frustrating as heck.”
“You sure know how to charm a girl.”
He grins. “I’m working on it.”
I can see him struggling against instincts telling him to keep everyone at arm’s length. Letting people in doesn’t come easily for him. But he does it anyway.
“Brett?”
“Yeah?”
“When I said you’re afraid to trust people?”
“Yeah.”
“I can tell you’re trying.”
“Yeah. I am.”
I reach for his hand. “That’s all I need.”
He kisses my knuckles, a gesture so gentle it makes my heart flutter. “Good thing I’m stubborn too.”
“The best thing.”
Outside, boats come in with the evening tide. I smell salt air and possibility through open windows. The restaurant opens in weeks, but the foundation feels solid now. Not the business plan or the supplier relationships alone, but this. Brett and me, figuring out how to become partners in every sense of the word.
Tomorrow we’ll probably argue about something else—arguing seems to be how we work through problems. But tonight, we’re here together, building something meaningful.
That’s the kind of promise I can believe in.
TWENTY-TWO
BRETT
The sun barely kisses the horizon when I hit the beach for my run. Yesterday’s boat trip keeps playing on repeat—the way Amber looked when she talked about her family’s fishing traditions, the moment her hand slipped into mine, the kiss at the bow where everything else disappeared.
And then her father’s warning echoes: She’s been through a lot. Her ex-husband was never present.
“Real smooth yesterday, Walker,” I mutter as my feet hit the packed sand. “Kiss the woman senseless, promise her father you’ll never let her down, then wonder if you’re ready for this.”
But this morning’s different. Time to stop overthinking and start proving I meant every word I said to her dad.
I’m halfway through my mental battle plan whenpaws thunder across the sand behind me. Scout comes barreling past like he’s been shot from a cannon.
“Morning to you too,” I call after him.
