Ryker draws a breath. “I really am sorry, you know. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that and stormed out.”

  I look at him. “Why did you?”

  He touches his forehead and sighs. “I guess I was angry. But not at you. At myself. Listening to you talk about all the places you’ve been, all the experiences you’ve had, and then having you ask me questions about where I am and where I’m going, I just suddenly felt like… like a failure.”

  So that’s why he snapped.

  “Trust me,” I tell him. “I had no intention of making you feel that way.”

  “I know. None of it was your fault. All you did was tell me about the life you lived these past several years, which I asked you to. And believe me, I am so proud of all you’ve accomplished, of what you’ve become. I was in awe of everything you’ve done. I still am. But then I got envious.”

  My eyebrows furrow. “Envious?”

  “You followed your dreams. You went places. You went on adventures. You… flew. And the whole time you were flying, I’ve been stuck here in Chicago behind a desk.”

  “I thought you went to Switzerland,” I tell him. “I saw a picture of you there.”

  “Yeah, I’ve traveled,” Ryker says. “But mostly for business. Most of the time, even when I’m in another country, I’m still behind a desk or at a conference table.”

  “But it’s what you want, right? It’s the life, the career you chose?”

  He shrugs. “I’m not even sure anymore. Looking back, I think I just went with the flow. My father and my older brothers were all working for the company so I went and did the same. It just seemed like the natural thing to do.”

  I can imagine it did. Raise a dog with wolves and it starts acting like one. If my parents were both famous astronauts or esteemed doctors and then my brother decided to follow in their footsteps, I might have done the same.

  Ryker turns his head to look at me.

  “What?” I ask him as I look into his brown eyes.

  “I’ve never told anyone that before,” he confesses. “Not even Joel.”

  I smile. “Then I’m honored.”

  His eyebrows furrow. “Are you? Or are you disappointed? I won’t blame you, you know. I took the easy route. I should be disappointed.”

  And he is. I can see that in his eyes before he looks away.

  “Hey.” I turn my body towards him and place my hand on his cheek so I can hold his gaze. “I’m not. I’m not disappointed in you, okay? I was just curious about your life, about you. I hate that there’s so many things I don’t know about you anymore.”

  “Me?” Ryker chuckles. “Like I said, I’ve been here the whole time. I haven’t changed.”

  “And I have?” I ask him.

  He doesn’t answer. He just looks into my eyes, his own pair of brown ones burning with flames that warm my chest and scorch my skin at the same time. I can’t breathe.

  Then Ryker lifts his hand to touch my cheek as he finally speaks. “You’re as beautiful as you were the last time I saw you.”

  The words light me on fire. I grip his shoulder and lean forward. My eyelids close. A moment later, his lips meet mine. As soon as they do, my heart flutters. As our lips collide over and over, excitement simmers in my veins anew. I caress his jaw. His hand strokes my cheek.

  Then he pulls away with a smile. “And as messy.”

  I frown. “Messy?”

  “You always did like making a mess, like when you were trying to put mustard on your fries and got it all over the table instead.”

  I laugh as I remember it. I can’t believe he does.

  “I hope you didn’t spill anything when you were serving princesses,” Ryker says.

  “I did not,” I tell him. “Actually, I’m very clean when I cook. You should see my station.”

  “And your apron?”

  I touch the nape of my neck. “Well, aprons are meant to be dirty.”

  He chuckles, then goes silent. A light blush coats his cheeks.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “You just imagined me wearing only an apron, didn’t you?”

  Ryker purses his lips.

  “You know, I could wear one for you,” I tell him in a mischievous tone as I run my finger down his chest. Then I bring my mouth against his ear. “And I wouldn’t mind if you got it dirty.”

  He gently pushes me away.

  I give him a puzzled look. “What? Are we not supposed to do more than kiss?”

  Ryker doesn’t answer. I frown.

  “You’re still not afraid of my brother, are you?”

  He draws a breath. “I’m going to talk to him. I’m going to tell him that you and I kissed.”

  He is? I wasn’t expecting that. But maybe I should have, knowing Ryker’s personality. He tried to keep his hands off me out of respect for his best friend. Now that he realizes he can’t, of course he’d want permission.

  I grin. I don’t mind it, actually. It makes me feel like I’m this lady from the Victorian era and he’s a gentleman asking permission to court me. It makes me feel… special.

  I stroke Ryker’s cheek. “Don’t worry. He’s not going to kill you.”

  Chapter Six

  Ryker

  Joel is going to kill me.

  I know that because I’ve known him for most of my life. I know his birthday. I know the name of the pet turtle he used to own. I know his favorite superhero. I know his favorite band and the one he can’t stand to listen to. I know the name of the first woman he slept with.

  And I know that of all the things that matter to him in this world, none matters as much as his little sister.

  Once, Joel almost beat a boy to a pulp because he pulled Claire’s hair in the playground. I tried to stop him but he punched me, too. Another time, there was this older boy who was following Claire around. A jock twice Joel’s size. Smelled of cigarettes, too. I was thinking of reporting him to the cops, then one day he just disappeared. I later learned that Joel did his homework for weeks just to help him get an athletic scholarship and get him to stop hounding Claire. Then there was that time Joel wanted to buy a video game. He had been waiting for it for months, working to save up for it even though I offered to buy it for him as a birthday present. Just a week before the game came out, Claire’s soccer cleats broke. He bought her new ones, of course.

  Claire is everything to him. At least, she used to be. Maybe Natalie’s the one who fills that spot for Joel now. Still, Claire will always be Joel’s little sister, and Joel will always see her that way, even though she’s twenty-six now.

  He was furious when she left. He wanted to go to Greece just to kill the guy she was with, and I was afraid he would, which is why I didn’t offer to accompany him. If he finds out Claire is with someone new, someone right here in Chicago, he’s going to kill him.

  He’s going to kill me.

  At the very least, he’s going to punch me, maybe a few times. And then he’s never going to talk to me again.

  I can’t stand the thought of it. I can’t stand the thought of losing my best friend who’s just like a brother to me, which is why I can’t bring myself to tell him that I’m going out with Claire.

  I gulp down the rest of my beer.

  “Are you okay?” Joel asks me after I’ve finished the bottle. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

  I can’t tell him.

  “I’m fine,” I say with a forced smile. “Just… thinking about work. That’s all.”

  Joel snorts. “Always thinking about work. Has it ever occurred to you that there’s more to life than just work?”

  “Oh, stop it. You were a workaholic yourself until recently. Or have you forgotten that?”

  “Yes, I was,” he admits. “Because I didn’t have anything better. But now I do.”

  I nod. “Now you do.”

  He takes a sip of his beer. “You know, I still can’t believe Natalie is going to be mine for the rest of my life. Sometimes, I think I don’t deserve her.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “You should have heard all these stories her parents had to tell about her, all the things she’s done. And their eyes were gleaming with pride when they talked. They love her. And now they love me, too. I felt it.”

  I pat his shoulder. “Isn’t that nice?”

  His parents died in a car accident when he was twelve. And I know he’s tried his best to be strong, and he has been. But I also know he still misses them. It’s good that he gets to experience how it feels to have parents again.

  “That’s the thing,” Joel says. “She’s giving me the world, and all she gets in return is me.”

  “She’s getting an amazing husband in return,” I point out. “One she loves very much. So I think it’s a fair bargain.”

  He gives me a grin. “Thanks, man.”

  He lifts his bottle of beer. I raise my empty one just so we can have a toast. Then I order another as Joel drinks.

  “You know,” Joel tells me after putting his bottle down. “You really should get someone special of your own.”

  I already have.

  He sighs. “Too bad Natalie doesn’t have a sister.”

  But you do.

  “But she’s got friends,” Joel adds.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you trying to set me up on a date, Joel Parker? After all these years?”

  “Well, it’s been too many years. You’re not getting younger, you know.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t you worry about me. Or have you forgotten that you’ve got a wedding to get ready for?”

  “Oh, I’m ready for the wedding. It’s the wedding that isn’t ready for me.”

  “True.”

  “And it’s your job to make sure it is.”

  I give him a puzzled look. “Really? The last time I checked, I was the best man, not the wedding planner.”

  “Well, you’re supposed to help me get some parts of it ready,” Joel says. “Speaking of which, you need to help me get a tux. You have a good tailor, don’t you?”

  “I do. And I’ll help you.”

  “Great.”

  He takes another sip of his beer. I do the same with my fresh bottle.

  “So, how about you and Claire?” Joel says suddenly.

  I put my bottle down before I choke. “What?”

  “You’re the best man. She’s the maid of honor.”

  Oh, that.

  “Have the two of you met to talk about the wedding yet?” he asks.

  “No.”

  Great. Now I’m lying to my best friend. And I don’t think I’ve ever lied to him before.

  Joel looks at me. “But you will, right?”

  “Yeah.” I take another sip. “We’ll take care of everything.”

  Joel nods. “And you’ll take care of her?”

  I don’t answer.

  He sighs. “That’s the one thing I’m worried about, you know. That I won’t be able to take care of her anymore now that I’m getting married.”

  “Claire can take care of herself,” I tell him.

  “But will you keep an eye on her like you used to, even just when she’s here in Chicago?” Joel asks me.

  A serious request. One made from one brother to another. One that can’t be denied.

  I swallow the lump in my throat. “Sure. Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

  ~

  “It’s not fine,” Claire scolds me over the phone the next day. “You said you would tell Joel about us and you didn’t.”

  “I tried,” I tell her before putting the phone down and turning on the speaker so I can put on my tie. “I couldn’t.”

  “You couldn’t?”

  I can hear the frustration clearly in her voice. Yeah, she’s disappointed in me now.

  “He’s my best friend,” I tell her. “I couldn’t bear to let him down.”

  “So you let me down instead. After all, I’m just… What am I, Ryker? A kissing partner? Someone to help you pass the time?”

  I frown. “You know that’s not true.”

  “Do I?”

  I sigh. When she’s in a spiteful mood, she really is in a spiteful mood.

  “You know me, Claire. I’m not like Asher. I don’t just go around dating and kissing women.”

  “No, you’re not like Asher,” she agrees. “Asher has the balls to go after the women he wants. You don’t.”

  Ouch.

  I pick up the phone. “Claire…”

  “You know what, Ryker? If you don’t want to be with me, you just have to say so.”

  I open my mouth to answer, but before I can say anything, I hear a click. I look at the screen and realize Claire has ended the call.

  Great.

  I think about calling her back, but I don’t. Right now, she’s too upset to hear anything I’m saying. I should just call her later after her temper has simmered away. If I’m calling her, that is.

  I put on my coat and slip my phone into the inside pocket.

  The truth is, since speaking to Joel, I’ve been having second thoughts about seeing Claire. Is it worth lying to Joel? Losing his trust? Destroying the lifelong friendship that we have?

  There are plenty of other women out there, none of whom are Joel’s little sisters. Surely I can be with one of them instead.

  I guess it all comes down to the question Claire was asking earlier—Do I really want to be with her?

  ~

  I realize I do.

  I stayed away from Claire for the past few days. I didn’t even call her. But I haven’t stopped thinking of her.

  Last night, I went drinking with my brothers and all I could think of was Claire. I had to endure listening to them talk about Stella and Violet even though talking about women is supposed to be against the rules—seriously, why do we have rules if no one follows them?—and I kept thinking about how nice it would be if I could brag about Claire, too.

  She’s the only woman I want to brag about, the only one I want to tell them about. She’s the only one I want to come home to after a night of drinking with my brothers.

  She’s not just a woman I’m going out with or kissing. She’s a woman I’ve known all my life, a woman I’ve wanted for a long time. No one else can replace her. No one should.

  I grab my phone from the bedside table and try calling her. No answer.

  I try again after five minutes. Then after ten. Then thirty. Still no answer.

  She’s ignoring me. And I can’t blame her. I haven’t tried to get in touch with her for the past few days.

  Is it too late for me to be with her?

  I shake my head. No. I’m not giving up just yet. If Claire won’t talk to me on the phone, then I’ll just have to talk to her in person. I’ll go to her.

  Then I realize that I don’t know where she lives. Last time, she asked me to pick her up from a cafe. And I can’t ask Joel.

  Fuck.

  For a few moments, I wonder what I should do. Ask Miller to find Claire’s address? Track her phone? Go to the cafe and hope that she shows up there?

  I’m about to try that, since it seems like a better alternative than sitting here in my apartment, losing my mind, but as I pass by the kitchen, I remember something.

  Claire said she was giving cooking lessons at a local school. Maybe I can find out where.

  Chapter Seven

  Claire

  “Goodbye, Claire,” Dorothy tells me. She’s one of the students in my class, a married woman who just lost her job and has decided to devote herself to cooking for her husband.

  I send her off with a smile. “Bye.”

  After she’s gone, I grab a stool to sit on and rest my legs. That’s one of the hardest things about cooking—being on your feet the whole time. The same is true when you’re teaching people to cook.

  But I’m not complaining. I love what I do. I love changing people’s lives through food. I love thinking that people can be happier and make their loved ones happier because of the dishes I teach them to cook. I love knowing that when they walk out of my class, they have something they’ll never forget, something they can make their own, something they can share with their friends or hand down to their children. I’m not just giving them recipes. I’m giving them fresh starts.

  If there’s anything I want to complain about, it’s Ryker. He finally called me earlier. Four times. I didn’t answer. Why should I? He ignored me for four days. He was able to bear going through four days without hearing my voice, without making sure I was fine, without caring about me, while each moment, I was in agony because I missed him, because even though I hated him every second, I couldn’t keep myself from wanting to see him again, from hoping that maybe he’d want to see me.

  Didn’t I tell him that if he didn’t want to be with me, he should just tell me? But he didn’t tell me. So I thought maybe he still wanted to be with me. But then he didn’t call me back to say anything else either, which tells me the opposite. So yeah, I’ve been feeling like I’m being torn in two.

  Last night, I went out with Christy, got drunk and told her that I’d just forget about Ryker. Then this morning, he calls.

  What the hell does he want now?

  “I’m sorry. Did I just miss the class?”

  I look up to see Ryker standing in the doorway in an unbuttoned denim jacket over a knitted, cream-colored top and jeans. What the freaking hell?

  When the initial shock that has me frozen in place subsides, two courses of action immediately come to mind. One is to throw myself straight at him, grab the front of his jacket and kiss him. The other is to walk across the room so I can send my palm across his handsome face. I choose neither. Instead, I avert my gaze, stand up slowly and draw a deep breath to summon every ounce of composure in my body.

  “Yes, you did, Mr. Hawthorne. If you want to learn how to cook, you’ll have to sign up for another class, preferably under a different teacher.”

  “Are you saying you won’t teach me even though I’m already here?” he asks.

  Oh. Now he’s being persistent?

  I narrow my eyes at him as I try to figure out his intentions. I fail, so I decide to ask him directly.

  “Why are you here, Mr. Hawthorne?”

  “Because I want to learn how to cook,” he replies as he starts walking toward me. “And I don’t want any other teacher.”