“Surprised you still remember how to make it,” Fiona ribbed.
From the hallway, Pickles let out an obnoxiousmeowKinley’d learned was a milk petition. He stretched slowly, as if giving his humans time to prepare his delicacy before he strutted forward. He’d be inconsolable until his daily demand was met.
Kinley scooped the onion slivers off the cutting board and spread them evenly into the buttered baking pan. Her chopping skills left something to be desired, but she shielded her efforts from Fiona when her aunt whisked by on her way to the fridge. The onions didn’t have to be pretty, just cut.
“Should I put Pickles in the bedroom before Ryder gets here?” Kinley asked, unsure how the cat felt about canine visitors. Judging how he reacted to closing doors and shadows from birds passing by windows, she didn’t expect him to greet Rowdy with open paws.
“Nope. He’s afraid of his own shadow most days, but he’ll put that dog in her place if she gets out of line.Ifhe even comes out of hiding. Let’s see if they can be friends first.”
Friends. If only Ryder could keep her. There’d been no word on Rowdy’s owner since Kinley left his place last night, but he was certain he’d know today. The only text she had from him was a picture of Rowdy snuggled up against his legs this morning, labeledthe ultimate bed hog.
All other messages were from Laurel, demanding a call. Kinley wasn’t certain whether her bestie was concerned Kinley had fallen off a cliff or if she wanted intel on her ex-husband. Kinley wondered how Laurel would react to hearing Kinley went to dinner with Chase the other night.
“What are we going to do with the rest of this halibut?” Fiona asked, placing seasoning jars on the counter for Kinley. “I’ll freeze some of it, but I hate to rob you of enjoying it before you’re gone for another decade.”
“It won’t be a decade,” Kinley promised. “Not this time.”
“Either way, you should enjoy your catch.”
Kinley recalled the exciting thrill she felt when the massive flat fish emerged from the water. Until it broke the surface of the ocean, she feared it would turn out to be a throwaway fish—or a boot. “I wouldn’t say no to halibut tacos.”
Fiona slipped a tub of sour cream and a jar of mayo onto the counter, leaning her hip against the silverware drawer as she hovered. “We can do that.”
If Kinley thought it possible to convince her aunt to sit down and let her follow the recipe on her own, she might’ve tried a little harder to chase her out of the kitchen. At least the pie was already baked and cooling on the windowsill. Silly as it seemed, she kept checking for Ed, wondering if he’d try to mooch a bite or two of the blueberry pie for himself.Ridiculous.
Loud barking announced Ryder and Rowdy’s arrival as Kinley finished the dish and slipped it into the preheated oven. Pickles hissed loud and long, eventually bolting for the laundry room. He liked to hide on the shelf above the washer and dryer, next to a cloth tote filled with hangers and clothespins. She didn’t expect him to warm up to Rowdy or even move until the dog was gone.
Ryder filled the screen door window, the sight of him causing Kinley’s stomach to flutter uncontrollably. With the back glow of sunlight, every feature was highlighted from his broad shoulders to his untrimmed beard. He’d only grown more attractive during their years apart.
“This must be Rowdy.” Fiona invited them in because Kinley apparently forgot how to breathe, much less move her feet.
Kinley heard faint hissing from the laundry room, but Rowdy seemed oblivious, more worried about head scratches than cats. “Dinner’s not quite ready,” she said from the kitchen, because she needed to saysomething.
“Not a problem.” Ryder’s gaze lingered on her a couple of seconds longer than usual, a hint of a smile sent her way. “I can get that ladder fixed up first.”
As Rowdy trotted off, sniffing the perimeter of the living room, Ryder followed Fiona to the ladder made of logs, tucked just out of sight from Kinley’s spot in the kitchen. From her own examination yesterday, she recalled one of the ladder’s lower rungs was missing and two others hung haphazardly by a single screw.
Creaking drew Kinley to the doorway in time to see Ryder rocking the ladder. “It’s still sturdy. Let me grab my tools out of my truck. I’ll get it back to functional in no time, but you’re not going up there until that arm heals,” he directed to Fiona. “If I hear you tried, I’m removing it from your temptation.”
Fiona patted him playfully on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, Ryder. I don’t have any reason to go up there. If Kinley didn’t need that box, I probably would’ve had you wait.”
Ryder’s gaze fell on Kinley, no doubt curious about the box she’d told him nothing about. Her pulse climbed at the unspoken pull in the air between them. If Kinley had any sense earlier, she would’ve made plans to be anywhere else but here tonight. Ryder Grant had always been quicksand for her, even when she was busy pushing him away. How had she forgotten that?
“Be right back.”
The second Ryder was off the porch, Kinley spun toward her aunt. “Fiona, get that look off your face.”
“What look, dear?” She adjusted the dark purple scarf that matched her skirt, but Kinley didn’t miss the mischievous twinkle in her eyes or her subtle smirk that promised meddling. Why were the people closest to her trying to play matchmaker?
“I’m not staying.”
“You suggesting they don’t have cops in Georgia?”
“This won’t take but a few minutes,” Ryder said upon his return, interrupting any defense Kinley might’ve tried. “But itwillbe noisy.”
“You’re just an angel, Ryder Grant,” Fiona cooed as he lifted the ladder off its track with ease. Anyone with eyes could see the way his biceps flexed through his tight shirt sleeves.
The cramped cabin didn’t offer a lot of space to lay the ladder down, but Kinley jumped into action. Quickly, she moved both coffee table and recliner to give him more room. Anything to avoid gawking at the man. Rowdy barked a couple of times, convinced the furniture shuffle was a game.
