What?Was he talking about people and relationships in general, or was he talking about something else—like her andtheirrelationship?No way was she asking himthat,so she settled on a generality.“People can be tricky because they don’t always say what they mean or they might notknowwhat they mean… or they might say nothing, even if they want to, even if their hearts are breaking.They can’t get their feelings out because the risk of getting hurt is too great.And relationships?”She laughed when she considered that one.“I’m not the one to ask because while I might have a strong relationship with my sister, Uncle Jack, Aunt Dolly, and my friends?Anyone beyond that hasn’t quite worked out.”
“Mind if I ask why?”
She didn’t miss the clenched jaw or the tightness in his voice.“Self-preservation, I guess.Or…maybe it didn’t feel right.Maybe the other person pushed too hard…or didn’t know or care to understand who I really was and what I wanted…”
“Or maybe you weren’t with the right partner.”
The words slid across the table, wrapped around her until she could barely breathe.Katie swallowed, forced out the truth.“Maybe I wasn’t, but sometimes the right partner is the one who can hurt you the most.”
His eyes grew bright, burned with intensity.“True, but maybe that partner’s the one who can bring you the greatest joy, and that’s worth the risk.”
Katie didn’t likebig risks or not knowing outcomes, and Ian Finnegan was both a risk and an unpredictable outcome.It was impossible to figure him out, and once emotion—past and present—invaded her brain?That doubled the level of impossibility.
She should not have invited him to dinner.Whyhad she done it, andwhyhadn’t she prefaced the invitation withI have an inventory idea I want to discuss with you.Want to come over, and we’ll make it a working dinner?
But no, she hadn’t been clever enough to think of that line, so she’d flat-out-invited him.Would you like to come for dinner?He hadn’t hesitated when he accepted, and she almost amended the invitation to include,You know, this is just dinner, right?But she didn’t because that sounded silly and unnecessary.Tonight was nothing more than sharing a meal with someone who had similar tastes in food.So what?It wasn’t like it was a prelude to anything, like rekindling their relationship…
Katie wasn’t a complete fool.Shedidknow how to protect herself and her heart.Remain alert and aloof, don’t fall for the slow smile, the intense stare, or the voice that could make her forget why she should never give him another chance.She’d gone all-in once, ignored the commonsense reasons that said they would never work, and listened to him.Believed in him.
And it had almost destroyed her.
Well, she wasn’t nineteen anymore.There’d been other relationships, and for a minute, she’d even had a fiancé.But there’d never been anyone like Ian Finnegan, andthatshould have made her realize age and past relationships weren’t enough to prepare her for the man who broke her heart.
After the talk at O’Reilly’s the other night, Ian hadn’t tried to contact her regarding Katie’s Soups or anything else.No follow-up questions about relationships and shop efficiency.Nothing.She’d been the one to invite him to dinner at her place.
He arrived with a potted rosemary plant and a bottle of wine.You mentioned your rosemary didn’t look so great.And who doesn’t love merlot?The white button-down shirt looked good against his tan, the dark-washed jeans molding his thighs.Had he trimmed his beard?And that long hair?Katie had never imagined Ian with a ponytail or hair that was longer than hers, but it suited him.No sense denying it; the man could shave his head and wear a paper bag, and still be much too attractive.
There was just something about him…andthatwas a problem.
“How can I help?”
Polite.Casual.No heat in that gaze.Good, that’s exactly what she wanted.Wasn’t it?“You could pour us a glass of wine?”She pointed to the cabinet to the left of the sink.“You’ll find glasses in there.”
“Sure.”Ian moved toward the cabinet, his woodsy scent reaching her.Fresh, clean, not the designer cologne he’d worn ten years ago, that cost more than her cookware.
“What’s on the menu for tonight?”He handed her a glass of wine, sniffed the amber liquid sitting in a measuring cup next to the stove.“This one smells like bourbon.”He turned to the second measuring cup.“And this one’s maple syrup?”Ian glanced at her, brows pinched together.“Are you making some kind of glaze?”
“Yes, I’m going to add soy sauce and cook our salmon in it.”She set her wine glass on the counter.“If you’ve never had bourbon-glazed salmon, you’re in for a treat.Add a baked sweet potato and fresh green beans?Delicious.”
His lips twitched.“You had me at bourbon.”
“I thought you were more of a scotch drinker but…” She stopped, sifted through the years to the time when he’d told her he preferred scotch over other drinks.
He fixed his gaze on the measuring cup containing the bourbon.“When I was younger, it was cool to drink scotch or bourbon and do shots.Beer in my circles wasn’t really a thing.I avoided it because I guess I needed to fit in, not just with my friends but with my family.”He took another sip of wine, his voice shifting.“When that stopped mattering, I decided I was just going to be myself.”His lips pulled into a smile.“A beer drinker who occasionally drinks wine, likes old T-shirts, faded jeans, scuffed boots…long hair and tattoos…” He pointed to the full beard.“This is questionable.It’s a nice layer of protection in the wintertime, and it’s a good avoidance tactic if you’re trying to hide your expression.But I’ve had it for two years, and I’m thinking about getting rid of it, or at least, taming it a bit.”He slid her a glance.“Any thoughts?”
You would look good with or without a beard…“Actually, I think the beard suits you, but I can see where you might want to trim it up.”She studied the dark curls of his beard, calculated how many inches he could remove.“I think you’d look good with a little less…shave up the neck, thin it out…”
“As long as it still makes me unemployable at my father’s company.”
“It probably would… Just do what feels authentic.”
Long pause and then a quiet “Interesting you should choose that word.That’s one of the reasons I came back to Magdalena.”He cleared his throat.“That summer was the first time since I was a kid that anything felt authentic.The fallout after made me realize I could live my life according to someone else’s expectations, or I could find my own path.I chose the second.It took me a while—years in fact—to admit I was still hiding and it didn’t have anything to do with the way I looked.I had to come back here and face what happened—” his words spilled emotion and regret, “—and I had to face you.”He held up a hand before she could respond.“Maybe that was a little too much sharing, but you asked for the truth.”
“I’m glad you told me.”He really hadn’t wanted to stay away.Any doubt she’d had about that vanished with this latest admission.“I appreciate you sharing this with me.”
He opened his mouth to speak, and she hoped he’d say more.But what he shared was casual, and more appropriate for a new acquaintance than an ex-girlfriend.“Now, why don’t you show me what you’re going to do with this bourbon?”
And just like that, they were on even ground again, retreating from whatever emotions rested in their hearts.As conversation shifted to topics such as the “heat” levels in O’Reilly’s wings, the eight different types of tomatoes Katie grew in her garden, and Ian’s penchant for American muscle cars, they laughed, they shared, they relaxed.It turned out Ian loved bourbon-glazed salmon and had an extra helping.
