Page 11 of Seaside Cowboy's Fairy Tale

Kennedy responded to his hug. “I know. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out together.”

They were a unit, while Rachel had to go through life alone. But then, her friend’s marriage was one of the few successful ones she’d ever seen. Rachel’s mother had abandoned her father with a young child. Then Rachel’s father and stepmother’s marriage had been painful to watch. And in Rachel’s line of work divorces were rampant, maybe because of the frequent travel required.

Kennedy’s gaze sharpened as she studied Rachel. She tensed, sensing Kennedy saw something Rachel didn’t want her friend to see.

Uh-oh. It was as if a cat spotted a mouse, and despite having several, Rachel had never wanted to be one.

“Why don’t we have some tea and biscuits? Or coffee?” Kennedy gestured toward the kitchen.

“Cheese biscuits?” Rachel smiled innocently.

Kennedy didn’t even blink, though she must understand the hint. They both knew free cheese was only in a mousetrap. “Nope. Chocolate ones. Austin and I baked them together.”

Something suspiciously akin to envy stirred Rachel’s tummy, but she stilled it. “Sure.”

The beagle woke, trotted to them, and barked at the wordbiscuit.Austin smiled as he scooped the dog up. The puppy, glad her friend was up to playing again, jumped right after him, so Austin picked her up, as well. “I smell girl-talk. I’ll leave you to it.”

The puppy gave a tiny squeal, probably insisting she was a girl, too, and didn’t need to be unceremoniously carried away.

“Thanks, honey.” Kennedy kissed her husband’s cheek.

The strange feeling inside Rachel intensified, and she ignored it. Early on, she’d learned that things meant for other people, like having a loving mother and a father who wasn’t a pushover, or even clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs, weren’t meant for her.

The cozy ranch kitchen was almost kitschy cute with the veterinarian’s pet-themed décor. Black paw prints stamped the white kitchen towels and curtains, and a set of porcelain mice posed as salt and pepper shakers under the watchful eye of a cat-shaped teapot.

What a far cry from Kennedy’s previous kitchen, so spacious and gorgeous with skylights illuminating stainless-steel appliances, cream-colored cabinets, and milky-white marble counters. But that immaculate and uncluttered room appeared rarely used, and Rachel suspected Kennedy had existed on takeout and air.

Would Tex’s kitchen look the same, as unused as his heart? Both hardworking business executives, Tex and Kennedy had a lot in common.

Rachel shook her head in response to her thoughts. She’d never know what his house looked like inside and would never get close to his heart. Longing surprised her. She loved being independent, cherished it after spending years serving her stepmother and two stepsisters, who only scolded her and never thanked her.

This much smaller kitchen lacked the stainless-steel appliances of Kennedy's previous kitchen and sported scratches on the beige counter, but it gave off a much warmer feeling. It must be loved and loved often. Rachel breathed in the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Just what she needed.

“Tea or coffee?” Kennedy asked.

“Coffee. I’ll pour it.” Rachel accepted the mug her friend handed her—which, yes, depicted calico kittens tangling themselves in yarn—and filled it with coffee. She took hers black. The scent of gourmet coffee was as rich as the drink and the woman beside her. A thousand times better than the muddy liquid they called coffee at Rachel’s work.

Did Tex have the same gourmet coffee in his kitchen? People like him seemed to want only the best, if his suits or cars were any indication, scorning the simple things and looking down on people like her. Rachel flushed away the bitterness in her mouth with the hot drink.

Kennedy poured herself a cup and added a generous dose of creamer to a cup where a poodle chased the pom-pom of its tail. “Would you like honey or jam with your biscuits?” She opened oak cabinets nothing like the pristine ones in her previous kitchen and, from the clutter within, retrieved a canister with biscuits.

“Honey, please.” The domestic scene made Rachel shrug. After cooking elaborate meals for others who never seemed to appreciate it, she now lived on frozen meals and quickly slapped-together sandwiches, splurging for occasional takeout. She never spent much time at her tiny apartment due to frequent assignments that took her around the country.

Once they were seated at the breakfast nook, Kennedy leaned forward. “Spit it out.”

Rachel, who just took a sip of her hot flavorful drink, swallowed, then blinked innocently. “Spit out what? I hope you didn’t mean the coffee.”

“I mean you look different. You have an absent-minded smile.” Kennedy pinned her with a stare. “You met someone.”

Rachel reached for the biscuit and munched on it after drizzling it with honey. “These are very good. You’re becoming a fantastic baker.”

“That’s something I didn’t think I’d ever hear about myself.” Kennedy preened. “Austin helped. Actually, he did most of the baking, and I did the helping.” A blush rose on her neck. “We almost burned the first batch because we were too busy kissing. Wait a moment! You’re distracting me.Whodid you meet?”

“Technically, the first time I met Tex was at your wedding. He just didn’t pay attention to me in a waitress uniform.” That still stung.

How to become invisible. The fastest way to make people stop noticing you was to be at their service. Working undercover as a cleaning lady worked even better than as a waitress. People considered her little more than an extension of a mop bucket.

Kennedy’s eyes widened, and she clattered her porcelain cup back to the checked black-and-white tablecloth that matched the checkered black-and-white tiled floor. “Tex Lawrence? As in my hubby’s brother?”

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