Reserved (15 page)

“Green peppercorns.” Travis sipped his water.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had better food.” Kate wiped her mouth and looked at Kenna. “I see Sloan finally caved and got you the linens. Do you like these? I mean, I like the look of them, but they’re sort of scratchy.”

“I think they’re pretty, but you may want to go with flax. I didn’t dare say anything to Sloan, but I think the ones you have are a burlap-linen blend. We use burlap feed bags on the farm, so the rustic is there, but I don’t know that I’d want to put that to my face.”

Kate and Grady both laughed.

“Logan picked out flax napkins when we opened. Here, feel.” Makenna grabbed two napkins from a server station.

Kate put the napkin to her mouth. “Yes, much better. Thank you.”

“Okay, napkins solved. The wine is excellent too. Let’s let Sloan handle the champagne, but have Logan’s guy do the wine?” Grady looked at Kate, she nodded in agreement, and then as if they were sitting at a cozy little table for two, he kissed her. It was simple but felt so human for two public figures. Grady pulled his eyes back to the rest of them. “Sorry for that, but we’ve spent so much time sneaking around that I kiss her every chance I get. I can’t seem to help myself.”

Kate shook her head. “I think we’re finished and we indicated everything on the card. Thank you so much for this. It made it really easy.” Kate handed their selections to Makenna.

“You’re welcome. So, all we have now is the wedding cake samples and coffee. Your cake guy is in the kitchen and we have two local coffee roasters I’d like you to try,” Logan said, standing.

Travis stood after him and looked like he was going to add something when Summer came into the dining room.

“Travis, I’m sorry to disturb, but your family is here. I sat them in the bar.” She flashed him her hostess grin and then quickly vanished.

Makenna watched Travis go from casual and thriving in his element to visibly uncomfortable. He looked to Logan, who reluctantly nodded.

“They’re early,” Logan said.

“Does that surprise you?” Travis shook his head.

“Not really.”

Travis found his smile as he turned to Grady and Kate to shake hands and again extend his congratulations. His eyes swept past Makenna, and she saw what looked like armor fall into place. He appeared ready for battle, and then he was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

W
hile the happy couple tasted cake and sipped coffee with Logan, Makenna excused herself and went through the kitchen to the bar. She’d never seen Travis’s family and she had to admit she was curious. The picture he’d painted in the stockroom wasn’t particularly flattering, but families were complicated—she was sure they weren’t all that bad. Sneaking behind the bar, she waited as Sage cashed out a couple of suits and ties.

“How’s it going?” Kenna asked, leaning in to catch a glimpse of the bar table closest to the front door.

Sage exhaled. “Jeez Louise, those guys asked me to do a hand-muddled old-fashioned, which is a pain in the ass. The one in the bow tie said he read about it in
Men’s Journal
. Who the hell came up with lifestyle magazines for men? Now every guy anywhere close to the corner office thinks he’s Don Draper.”

Makenna was still leaning, her eyes focused ahead.

“Oh, that’s why you’re here.” Sage looked over Kenna’s shoulder. “Yeah, I’ve had my ears on them. Poor Travis.”

Makenna stopped leaning and looked at Sage. “Why poor Travis?”

She held up her finger, smiled as she turned to deliver a credit card slip, and then said, “Look at the poor bastard. His dad seems like a real blowhard, as my Uncle Mikey would have put it.”

“I didn’t know you had an Uncle Mikey.”

“He’s dead. Heart attack. You didn’t miss much. Anyway, Travis’s dad is the one standing even though there’s a seat, kind of loud like maybe he’s on the sidelines coaching the Super Bowl, but without the bad polyester coach pants. Travis’s older brother, I think his name is John, is wearing those. Yikes, it’s a little hard to believe our Travis, well, your Travis, from the looks you’ve been giving him lately, was raised by the Cleaver family over there.”

Makenna laughed and then went around to stand at the bar so she could hear.

“This is a nice place, Trav. Seems real urban. What was this, like a garage?” The “blowhard,” according to Uncle Mikey, said right as Kenna turned her back to the group.

“Lumberyard,” Travis said, barely above a mumble.

“Huh, well, it’s cool, but they don’t have nachos.”

Kenna heard Travis laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not eating anyway, so I’m sure you’ll find those at the airport bar. I should probably get back to work.”

“They can’t spare you for a few more minutes? I hope they’ve got other cooks back there.”

“Yeah, do you punch one of those time cards in the back? Like are you ‘on the clock’ as they say in the movies?” a different, younger male voice asked.

The table laughed and Makenna found herself squeezing the edge of the bar.

“No,” was all Travis said.

“Huh, well, that’s good, and you don’t have to wear a hairnet, so that’s a bonus, right?” Blowhard added.

“Okay, that’s enough, guys. There’s certainly nothing wrong with food service work,” an older woman’s voice chimed in. Makenna was certain she was the mother.

“Yeah, but I always thought of food service as a transition job. You know, something you do on the way to somewhere else, or something bigger. Trav, did you work in a restaurant when you were in high school?”

Makenna was pretty sure it was time to punch Blowhard, or at least ask him to sit his ass down.

“Yes.” Again one word from Travis.

“I thought so. Like I said, transition. He’s still doing the same job he did in high school.”

“Easy, Dad. It’s not Trav’s fault he got injured. He’s doing the best he can with his shitty knee, right Trav?”

“Right.”

Holy cow, isn’t he going to say something, anything?

“Well, anyway, let’s not waste our time on this crap anymore. Your brother here has some big news . . .” Makenna rolled her shoulders back. She was filled with something that felt like protectiveness or affection, she wasn’t sure, but whatever it was coursed through her like one of those five-hour energy drinks. As Blowhard was rambling on about some endorsement his son with the good knee just “scored,” she walked over to the table with her best interview smile and stood next to Travis, who still smelled delicious.

“Excuse me, Travis.” Kenna put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Logan needs you to approve the changes to the menu, and if you have time, the senator’s son and his fiancée would like to say good-bye.”

Travis looked at her dumbstruck, as if waking up from a self-induced coma and surprised someone was stepping in to help him.

“I . . . sure. I’ll be right over. Makenna, these are my parents, Tom and Trisha, my older brother John, and his wife.”

“Avery, nice to meet you.” The blonde with the high cheekbones and the huge ring extended her manicured hand, which Kenna quickly shook.

“And I’m sure you already know who this is,” Blowhard said, putting his hand on the shoulder of the young man sitting. He looked at Makenna as if she was about to break out in some sort of fan frenzy. Whoever the superstar was, he looked like Travis, but with a different nose and no facial hair.

Kenna politely looked to Travis for direction.

He let out a huff of frustration. “Dad, not everyone follows football. Kenna, this is my youngest brother Drew.”

Drew managed to pull his face from his phone long enough to deliver a toothpaste commercial smile and shake Makenna’s hand. It was one of those greeting-a-weak-girl handshakes, and Makenna wanted to puke.

“Okay, well, it’s very nice to meet all of you, and again, I’m sorry to pull him away, but we have some pretty important guests here today and they always love to hobnob with the chef.”

“Oh, well, Trav, you go on. We don’t want to keep you.” Trisha McNulty was now wide-eyed and almost as shiny as the blonde with the big rock on her finger. Her hair was cut into a short bob and reddish like the lightest parts of Travis’s beard. She was exactly as her son had described her: a mom.

“Please tell Mr. Malendar and the soon-to-be Mrs. Malendar that I will be right over.” Travis played along.

Kenna nodded and when she turned her back to the table, she smiled, a big cheek-hurting smile. That felt good, really good, and the look on Travis’s face was priceless.

She heard his mother say, “You know a senator?”

Kenna grinned all the way back to the kitchen. Grady and Kate had already left, but Makenna guessed unless they were in football jerseys Travis’s family wouldn’t even notice. She knew that sounded mean, even in her mind, but she didn’t have a high tolerance for bullies. At least from what she heard, the McNultys seemed like bullies. Kenna sat down in the back kitchen and opened her laptop. She remembered in the fourth grade her friend Marty used to get really winded because of her asthma, and anytime she used her inhaler, this group of kids in their class made fun of her. Kenna eventually learned that people picked apart other people to make themselves feel better, but her fourth-grade self was pissed that her friend was always crying, so she kicked Timmy Britton’s ass and ended up in detention. Bullies made Kenna mad—maybe that was the farm girl in her. She grew up with teasing brothers. Teasing was one thing, but what happened to Marty, and out there with Travis, was cruel. There was a difference.

A few minutes later, Travis came into the back kitchen. “What was that?” he asked on a laugh. “Yes, chef. No, chef. Did that really happen?”

“It did.” Kenna opened the box containing their latest liquor order and tried to focus on the invoice. She needed to restock the wine rack and add the new inventory to her master spreadsheet.

Travis ducked down to catch her eyes. “Where did that performance come from?”

“I was curious, so I went to the bar to spy and your father asked, ‘How many cooks does this place have?’ I lost it.” She clicked her mouse with one hand and then added the bottle she’d pulled from the box to the concrete and steel rack. When she turned back, Travis’s gaze seemed puzzled.

“You were sticking up for me, Ken.”

Makenna raised the next wine bottle like she was going to swing it at him if he called her Ken one more time.

“Sorry, Makenna. Is that what that was?”

Her face was warm. She hadn’t meant to get involved, but she felt something: a need to protect him and the brilliance of his work. She couldn’t allow them to make him feel—how had they made him feel?—less than. In the past, she had always been first in line to help knock down Travis’s inflated ego, but what happened out there wasn’t fun bantering between friends. It was ugly and rooted in something Kenna couldn’t begin to understand. Family wasn’t supposed to act like that.

As Paige liked to put it, Travis was part of their pack. He was one of theirs, and the likes of the football contingent, family or not, wasn’t going to mess with him.

“Yeah, I guess I was sticking up for you. They were rude.” She added two more bottles and stared a bit longer than necessary at her computer screen. She glanced up and Travis had pulled himself up onto the counter next to her, his legs swinging, like a little boy with a secret.

“You like me.”

Kenna blew out a puff of air and turned back to the wine rack. “Hardly.”
Two more merlot, and what the hell was the one I just added?
Damn it, she could feel the weight of his eyes. When she turned to figure out if it was rosé or pinot noir she had just added, he jumped off the counter.

“Makenna.” He was standing next to her.

Holy smokes!

“Yes.” She tried to look over his shoulder, anywhere but his eyes, but he was too damn tall, so she lowered her eyes and focused on his neck. Not helping. It was a pretty great neck.

“I’m not sure anyone’s ever stuck up for me, except maybe Logan, but never a woman.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t surprise me considering the women you associate with.” Kenna closed her laptop; the rest of the wine could wait until tomorrow. She needed air, needed to go pick up her daughter.

Travis laughed. “Well, thanks, but I’m used to dealing with my family.”

“I know you’re used to it. I could tell, but it pissed me off. It’s not a big deal.” Goodness, he was still so close and she wasn’t used to this new soft, thankful Travis voice. It sounded lethal. “I just wanted to rub a little bit of your success in their faces.”

He laughed again and, this time, put his hand to his stomach, sort of like he was feeling his abs or he was hungry. Kenna wasn’t sure what he was doing, but her mind wandered and her face grew even warmer. “That you did. My mother will probably be talking about the senator for months now, so thanks for that.”

She grinned and backed toward the door. He took her arm, clearly not aware that lately the simple touch of him rushed through her body.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said quickly and made her escape through the back door. The air was cool, the sky was blue, and she hoped to God her keys were in her bag because she wasn’t sure she could take one more minute of him.