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David was different, though, because beneath all his accomplishments, he was a nice guy. An athlete and a good person, not something Travis had much exposure to in his life. David had come into The Yard a few times for lunch when they first opened. He and Travis struck up some conversations, and then one day he invited Travis down to his gym. That was a few months ago, and now Travis came three days a week for an hour.

“My core? Yeah, tell that to my face.” Travis tossed his stuff into his gym bag and began unwrapping his hands.

“That’ll come. You’re getting stronger from the ground up. None of this sissy football flashy muscles bullshit.”

Yet another reason Travis loved him. Never in all his years growing up on Team McNulty had anyone used the words “sissy” and “football” in the same sentence. It was refreshing.

“Think of it like building a brick house, no reference to your ass kicker back there intended, versus a straw house.”

“Is this a
Three Little Pigs
reference? That’s all you got?”

David laughed and patted him on the back. “Good workout there today. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Not unless I see you first. The dinner special is a pork chop on that polenta you love, just sayin’.”

“Serious? Damn, man. You’re going to fatten me up.” David patted his envious abs as if he were Santa Claus.

Travis grinned. “That’s the plan. Maybe if I feed Brick too, he’ll go easy on me.”

David laughed.

“I think he’s probiotic.”

“Of course he is. The man’s a machine.”

“You know, Cheryl’s been wanting a date night for a while, so I just might send the kids to her mother and stop by tonight.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for you.” Travis dropped the towel over his shoulder and pushed the door of the locker room open.

“Wait, I’ve got a better one,” David said, and Travis hesitated at the door. “It’s like cooking. You use fresh ingredients, good meat, that’s how you build a meal, right?”

Travis nodded.

“Same thing with your body. Good ingredients.”

“You know we usually pound the hell out of our cutlets. Kind of like that?”

Both men laughed.

“I’ll keep at it. Thanks for the workout.”

“Anytime, man.”

Travis showered and by the time he set his foot down at the light on Sixth Street, the beep of his earpiece indicated he had a voicemail. Two actually.
Shit!

His phone was in his backpack, but he already knew who’d left the messages. Pulling his bike back into traffic, he had to admit there’d been a glimpse of “call me” in Trixie’s eyes when he’d thrown on his jeans and made all the right excuses last night. There had been some good times with Trix, but a few . . . nights were his limit. Anything more was too much work and often led to complications.

Occasionally, he’d hook up with a woman and, despite his honesty, she wanted to persuade him otherwise or be the woman to change his ways. He was always up front and made it clear what he was looking for. He never shared numbers or an actual limit with them, but any woman who ended up in his bed knew she would not be putting him in a sweater vest and bringing him home to meet the parents.

Travis parked his bike in front of Nick’s, home of his favorite huevos rancheros, took off his helmet, and grabbed his phone. Shortly after he had finished the last delicious bite, his phone vibrated. He ignored it, but it vibrated again, this time with an incoming call. Travis let out a sigh, tapped the answer button, and like his father had always instructed, he “took it like a man.”

Chapter Two

M
akenna dropped Paige off at St. Christopher’s Private School and drove to work in silence. No music, no podcast, not even her usual audiobook. She hadn’t done it intentionally; it was a beautiful morning and she’d put the Jeep’s top down for Paige, who loved to play super flying pig with Fritters. After drop-off, Kenna found herself in a bit of a trance, thinking and listening to nothing but the rush of traffic.

She arrived at work, grabbed her laptop bag off the backseat, and took solace in the knowledge that there were no meetings today, just payroll, some phone calls, and that social media post she needed to come up with to promote the new menu. Details—a whole day of details stretched out in front of her. She would park herself in one of her favorite corners at The Yard, the restaurant she managed for her brother, and work. That had always straightened her out in the past, and it would surely do the trick this time.

Sage’s car was already in the parking lot, a good thing because Kenna should probably tell someone. Maybe Sage had a simple explanation that would get her back to normal. That’s what best friends were for, weren’t they?

Kenna locked her car, entering through the front of the restaurant. They weren’t open for a few more hours, so she locked the door behind her. After plugging in her laptop at the corner bar table, which had become her office when it was available, she followed Sage into the back kitchen so she could chop more oranges and limes before the lunch crowd arrived. A few oranges in, Kenna leaned over and said quietly, “I had
the
dream last night.”

“Ooh, wow. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, last time was a week or two before we opened here.”

“So, are you all right? I mean, I’m sure you are, but . . .”

“I’m fine, or I was fine until the dream wasn’t
the
dream. It was different this time.”

Sage stopped mid-lime and turned to Kenna, who was now resting her elbows on the counter.

“What? Well, huh, are you sure it was different? It’s been a while.”

“Yup, it was definitely different.”

“But, it’s never different. Always the same every time, so what, the flowers were roses?”

“No, same flowers. They were the—”

“Bouquet from your runaway wedding in Vegas?”

Makenna nodded.

“Was Paige still on the counter in the kitchen?”

Makenna nodded.

“So what was different?”

“I’m not even sure I can say it. It’s crazy. You know I’m in the kitchen and I turned—”

“Come on, babe, don’t be this way.” Travis’s voice filled the space even before he appeared in front of them holding his helmet and barely balancing the iPhone between his ear and the raised cap of his shoulder. “Are you crying? I know. Right, but I thought we both agreed.” He nodded a greeting to both of them and put his beat-up leather bag into one of the cubbies off the back kitchen. Hands now free, Travis took the phone and held it away from his ear while an enthusiastically pissed-off female voice yelled at him. He shook his head and turned away from them, facing the wall.

“Trix, I get it. You need more and you deserve more, babe. I’m sorry we didn’t work out.” He kicked the metal baseboard with the tip of his work boot. “Now, let’s not end things this way.”

The pissed-off female voice hit a crescendo and then went silent. Travis, still facing the back corner, let out a breath and slipped his phone into his back pocket. He appeared to be shaking it off, as Taylor Swift advised through the overhead speakers. When he turned, Makenna and Sage both stared in fascination. It was sort of like seeing an animal in its natural habitat.

Kenna’s eyes drifted.
Were those new jeans?

“Trix?” Sage asked.

Travis grabbed an apron and said nothing.

“That’s like a stripper name.” Sage wasn’t letting up, and Travis grinned.

“Oh wow, you date strippers? You’re
that
guy?”

At this, he laughed and tied the apron at his waist. “No, I don’t date strippers. Her name is Trixie, but she’s a loan officer at JP Morgan. Her parents were a little . . . eccentric.”

“I see.”

Travis went to the sink and washed his hands.

Big hands.
When did he get the leather bracelet?
Kenna wondered. Huh, his beard had more red in it when it was grown out.
You’re staring, Kenna. Cut it out before
—

“How’s it going, Ken?”

She pulled her eyes off him and looked at Sage, who seemed confused.
Damn it.

“See something you like?” He waggled his brows at her. She and Travis had a way of bantering that was usually harmless, but that was before her mind had conjured him up standing shirtless in her kitchen and making her daughter breakfast.

Her face flushed.
What the hell is wrong with you? Fix this, Kenna.

She rolled her eyes. “You have something on your jeans.” She pointed and then quickly turned before he figured out there was nothing there. Kenna pushed through the back kitchen doors and stepped into the bar. She needed her details, the ones she’d been so excited about before Travis arrived wearing that blue Triumph T-shirt. She suddenly noticed how it stretched across his chest.

Her heart was pounding as she grabbed the cool, glossy wooden edge of the bar for balance.

“What just happened?” Sage asked, walking through the door behind her.

“Nothing. I need a Coke.”

“Coming right up. Maybe I should make that a double, because you were most definitely looking at Travis like you wanted to eat him.”

“I was not.”

“You were. There wasn’t anything on those jeans. You were scoping his ass.”

“I was thinking about something and he happened to walk into my line of sight.”

“That’s the story you’re going with? You were fixed on him like you were seeing him for the first—”

Makenna could see the moment Sage put two and two together. “Wait, oh God.” She pushed the Coke across the bar and then one hand went to her mouth. “That’s what was different? Was he . . . it was him, in the dream?”

Makenna closed her eyes and continued sucking Coke into her bloodstream.

Sage leaned on the bar. “Huh, well . . . that’s weird.”

Kenna nodded.

“I mean, it doesn’t mean anything. You’ve just been working too much and he’s always here.”

Kenna kept nodding.

“It’s nothing, honey. Just chalk it up to lack of sleep—or stress. Travis is . . . well, he’s super yummy.”

“Not helping.”

“But, he’s Travis. You’re not into—”

“Hey, did Garrett deliver the artichokes yet?” Travis asked, pushing through the door.

Both women looked at him, Kenna still hooked up, via the straw, to her Coke. They said nothing.

“What the hell is with you two today? Is it Trixie?” He dropped onto the stool next to Makenna. His leg touched hers, and she called on every ounce of self-control to keep from pulling away from him like he was a live wire.

“Because I’ll have you both know that was not my fault.”

Sage rolled her eyes and Kenna scooted over, hoping she wasn’t being obvious.

“We do not care, nor do we want the sordid details of your stripper escapades,” Sage said in her best elitist voice. It was the one she saved for obnoxious bar patrons, drunk or otherwise.

“She’s not a stripper,” Travis said just under a laugh before he leaned over the counter for a mug and held it out to Sage for coffee.

Kenna stared at the bar because that seemed the only safe place for her eyes at the moment.

“Well, either way, no one cares, right Kenna?” Sage prompted her.

“Right,” Kenna said, desperately trying to find her mental balance. This was nuts. It was a stupid dream. Granted, it was
the
dream, the one she’d been having for the past five years since her husband died. The one that had never changed and had always been the same until last night, but that didn’t matter. It was still just a dream.
Pull it together, Kenna.
“Right,” she said again as if trying to convince herself. She finally looked at Travis. His eyes danced with things Kenna was in no mood to tackle. “Garrett will be here in”—she looked at the clock over the bar—“fifteen minutes with the artichokes. What are you doing with them so I can put it on the specials board?”

Travis’s look said he was still trying to figure her out, but he eventually said, “Just roasting them. Garlic, olive oil, and probably a little lemon.”

Kenna nodded and picked up her Coke off the bar. “Sounds good.” She unplugged her laptop and decided to move to the private dining room.

Travis reached out and touched her arm as he’d done a million times before, but this time, a flood of warmth coursed through her body and her heart felt like it was making its way outside her chest.
This must be what an anxiety attack feels like
, she thought, closing her eyes and trying to redirect her mind. That’s when she saw Adam’s face, as clear as the morning they moved into their first apartment. Her eyes sprang open and she pulled away from Travis, no longer caring if she looked crazy because all signs now pointed to completely nuts. Something was happening and Kenna knew only one thing with certainty: she wasn’t ready.

“Ken, are you all right?”

She stared at him for a beat past comfortable and bowed her head before she started to cry. “Fine.” She clutched her laptop and quickly moved to the dining room.

Logan arrived a few minutes later with stupid in love all over his face. That made the third morning in a row Logan Rye, chronic overachiever, was late, and Travis couldn’t have been happier for his friend. Just a few months ago, he was practically living at The Yard. Just as Travis was really starting to worry about him, a distraction in the form of Kara Malendar wound him up and took him under. The guy was so in love—it emanated from him. He hummed and took long lunches at the bar when Kara came to visit. They were getting married next year, but Kara’s brother Grady was first. His wedding was in four months. It would be The Yard’s first catering job, which was both exciting and nerve-racking. Travis and Logan were working on a tasting menu that included a new sea bass entrée they’d put together. They would work up two or three other choices, and whatever Grady and Kate went with would be incredible. He’d make sure of it. Kara was going to be in her brother’s wedding, so Logan needed to attend as a guest. That meant the day of the wedding was all his. He lived for this stuff. The heat, the pace; he thrived on it.