“I immediately took her shirtoff.”
Krista snorted and stepped into the room. “Sounds like you had a good night.”
“That it was,” Kit said, sighing contentedly while going back to slicing strawberries.
Krista poured herself a cup of coffee and settled onto a stool at the counter while Joe and Kit worked together.
Joe moved around the kitchen like he’d always been there.
It did something to her chest, watching him use her spatula and her skillet while Kit moved on to the bacon, recounting every detail of her reunion hookup.
This was the dream.
And she didn’t want to blink and lose it.
Before she could spiral, a soft knock sounded at the door.
Krista slipped off the barstool, coffee in hand, and went to see who it was.
“Robyn,” she breathed, opening the door, a smile instantly blooming.
Her sister stood on the stoop, a weekend bag slung over one shoulder, hair pulled into a low knot, glasses slightly fogged from the humidity.
“Hey, stranger,” Robyn said.
Krista launched herself forward and pulled her into a hug. “You’re here.”
“Finally,” Robyn whispered into her shoulder.
Pulling back, she looked her over. “You look…good,” Robyn said slowly, eyes narrowing just a bit. “Suspiciously good. Glowy.”
Krista rolled her eyes and stepped aside. “Get in here.”
Breakfast was loud and cozy, filled with overlapping conversations. Kit peppered Robyn with questions about her semester as a lecturer at Yale and whether the food was Ivy League caliber.
“If not, I’d love to make some suggestions. Imagine aconsulting gig like that. Or a trendy restaurant for academics. Challenging? Absolutely. But I’d be down.”
Robyn asked Joe about his favorite places he’d photographed. He regaled them with tales from the road.
Krista mostly soaked it in, filling plates, topping off coffee, feeling that fragile, greedy part of her stretch toward all of it.
She was grateful for this moment. And grateful it was Wednesday; the Hideaway was closed, and Joe had insisted on helping out at the campground today, which meant she didn’t have anywhere to be.
Joe checked his phone as if reading her mind. “I should head to the campground,” he said, setting his mug in the sink. “I told Walt I’d be there before ten and my editor is expecting a call.”
He grabbed his keys from the hook and came around the island to where Krista stood. For a second, the room faded—Kit rinsing plates, Robyn sipping coffee, Frankie sniffing hopefully at the floor.
“Text me if you need anything,” he said quietly. “I’ll swing by your grandparents’ cabin later, see if Gram needs anything.”
“Okay,” she said. She wanted to say more, something annoyingly big likeI like this,I like you, but her throat felt thick.
He must have read it anyway. His hand brushed her hip, squeezing lightly, and he dipped in to kiss her, quick and warm and sure. This wasn’t a casual hookup kiss. Not something you gave someone you planned to forget.
“I’ll see you later, Queen Bee,” he murmured.
“See you,” she managed.
Then he was gone, the front door clicking shut behind him.
