“Miss?” the guest calls again.

  “One second,” I call over my shoulder. Then to Dax, “What are you doing here?”

  “Tasting the competition. Did you make this?”

  “No. I didn’t know anything about it.”

  “Well, it’s not a fair comparison unless the chef in the kitchen has your recipe.” He stands from the table. Every lumbering, sexy inch of him.

  “I gave that recipe to someone else, so I didn’t think it was fair to use it here.” I meet his silver-blue eyes, which appear to be filled with... Is that hope?

  Oh, God, I hope it’s hope.

  “You gave away your best recipe?” He shakes his head. “That’s not very smart.”

  “How do you know it’s my best?”

  “I’ve tasted a few.”

  “The others made it onto Grand Lark’s new menu. They’re debuting tomorrow.”

  “No quesadilla on that one, either?” His low voice trickles down my spine and weakens my knees.

  “I meant what I said. That one was for you exclusively.” I swallow thickly.

  Him being this close messes with my equilibrium.

  “Are you really here to eat?” I’m half scared of his answer.

  He shakes his head. Slowly. “No.”

  I’m in his arms a second later. I’m not sure how I got here, but I’m relieved as hell that he’s holding me. Big, strong arms pull me close and cradle me against his impossibly broad chest.

  I squeeze him tighter. I never want to let go.

  “Don’t leave, Becca,” he breathes into my ear. “Don’t leave for New York. It’s a shitty thing for me to say, because I know you want it. I don’t want you to go there—it’ll feel like you’re on the dark side of the moon, and I can’t deal with that.”

  I move my hands to his biceps and feel a shake work down both his arms.

  “I’m selfish,” he says. “I tried like hell to fall out of love with you. I’m horrible at it.”

  A tear-filled laugh escapes me. I cover my mouth with one hand.

  “Just the worst.” His laugh follows. I pull back so that I can look at him. His eyes are misted over, damp and filled to the brim with emotion.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nod. “I’m probably worse at it than you are.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.” He lets go of me, but we can’t stop staring at each other.

  “I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Didn’t have a choice, Princess. You pulled the rug out at a time I was trying to find my footing.”

  “You’re not selfish, Dax. I’m trying not to be selfish. I called you that night to ask if you still wanted me—in your life. Maybe in Ohio. But I didn’t want to ask more than you were ready to give. I didn’t want to be one more person in your life taking from you.”

  “You can’t take what’s already yours.” He turns and reaches into a backpack sitting on the table and comes out with a slightly wrinkled, folded sheet of paper. “I have an offer for you if you’re not one hundred percent sure about New York.”

  He knows I’m not.

  I unfold the paper and smooth it on my thigh, holding it up to read the bold, black header at the top. “‘North Street Bar. Menu by in-house chef, Becca Stone.’”

  I blink up at him.

  “I want you there. I want you, period. If you’d like, I’ll put you in charge of the place, which will be like having your own restaurant. It’s not in New York, and you’ll be settling, but...babe.”

  I smile, remembering the first time he called me that.

  “Princess,” he corrects, and that’s even better. “You’re it for me. I love you just the way you are. I know value when I see it. You’re it,” he says again.

  I must be in shock. My extremities are cold, and my brain’s slogging through thoughts as thick as mud.

  “I’ll pay you whatever Tad is paying you here. I can’t open yet, but we’re close. I’ll pay you even though we’re not open. You can design the menu. Hell, design the restaurant. Whatever you want. As long as you’re there. With me. As long as you—”

  I crush my lips to his to stop the stream of words. I give him a bruising kiss, and hope that it successfully communicates what he means to me. His tongue plunges deep, his teeth scrape my bottom lip, and my entire body weakens against his.

  You’re it for me.

  “I’ve got you, Princess,” he whispers against my lips when my body goes slack.

  I steady myself by gripping his biceps. I still can’t believe he’s here. That he invited me to come back to Ohio. That he loves me.

  “I’ve got you,” he repeats. “This time I’m not letting go.”

  At the same moment we both become aware of the palpable silence around us. His eyes slide to the side and my gaze follows. We’re surrounded by interested onlookers in the packed restaurant, Dom behind the bar, and Tad, who’s standing off to one side, arms folded over his chest.

  “You knew he was here,” I say to my brother.

  He dips his chin in a nod.

  “And you didn’t kick him out.”

  He shakes his head.

  “I wouldn’t have left,” Dax says, his attention on Tad. When he snaps his gaze back to me, his eyes are smiling. “Your brother and I have an understanding.”

  “That’s incredible.” I let out a surprised laugh.

  “What’s your answer?” the woman who kept calling me “miss” asks. Her eyebrows are raised into her gray bob, her whole body leaning forward. “Are you going to New York or what?”

  I fix my eyes on Dax, who raises his eyebrows in interest. “No. I’m moving to Ohio instead.”

  That’s when the applause starts. Whistling follows when Dax lifts me off the ground to kiss me. When he sets me on my feet, the applause dies down. Gradually, the diners go back to their meals and the low hum of chattering guests returns.

  “I have one last question for you,” Dax squints one eye. “Can I have your phone number?”

  I toss my head back and laugh. In all the time we’ve spent together—and apart—we’ve never exchanged those ten precious digits.

  “To think we could’ve been texting this whole time,” I say.

  “No.” His mouth pulls into a frown. “I prefer you in person.”

  I run my hand down the T-shirt stretched over his fit torso. “Much better in person.”

  I fist that shirt and tug, but I don’t have to encourage him much. A second later, I’m savoring the press of his lips to my neck. He enters inappropriate PDA territory when he blazes a trail to my earlobe, but I don’t stop him.

  “Where are you staying tonight?” I ask when his lips leave my skin.

  “Grand Lark is at capacity. But I have a Jeep.” He shrugs as easy as you please. “I’ll park under the stars. Curl up in a sleeping bag. Though having someone there to keep me warm would be better.”

  My smile is all the “yes” he needs. I can tell when he grins back at me.

  “Barrett’s moving out this week.”

  “So you have a spare room,” I tease.

  “Sorry. It’s a one-bedroom. I have a couch, or you can take the left side of the bed.”

  The cold shock recedes and is replaced by warmth as my heart beats at twice its normal speed. Dax easily reads the terror on my face.

  “Too fast?” He tucks my hair behind my ear. Still calm. Still collected. I have to take a few breaths to become both of those things, but I manage.

  “It should be too fast.” I turn over the idea of moving in with him. Moving to Ohio for him. “But it feels right.”

  Palm on my cheek, he says, “Let me try something else out and see if that feels as right as the rest of it.” He pulls in a breath. “I love you, Becca.”

  I blink. Stunned. Thrilled.

  Amazed.

  “Damn. That felt really fucking right.” He lets out a laugh that might be an exhale of relief.

  “Maybe I should try it.” I put my hand over his. He loses his smile and focuses on me intently, his eyes heated, his body stock-still. “I love you too.”

  Silence hangs in the air between us.

  “How’d that feel?” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my bottom lip.

  “Really right.”

  He kisses me again. Softer. Slower. We are so going to need a room. Or the back of the Jeep. Whatever. I’m not picky.

  He loves me. Dax Vaughn is in love with me and I love him. It’s unbelievable, but I trust my gut. If I were any happier, I’d be levitating.

  “One condition,” I murmur against his mouth.

  I make out the slightest trace of doubt in the concerned bend of his eyebrows. I put him out of his misery quickly.

  “I’m more of a right-side-of-the-bed kind of girl.”

  His eyes narrow as if he’s trying to decide if he should scold me or make out with me. I know how to tip the scales in my favor. I push up to my toes and whisper in his ear, “I’m really good at blow jobs and pancakes.”

  His hand drops to the waistband of my jeans and he grips the material, holding me hip to hip against every firm inch of him.

  “Check!” he shouts. Then to me, “Can you take the rest of the day off?”

  “No,” Tad answers as he delivers food to a nearby table. “You’re fired, Becca. With a smile, he adds, “Get the hell out of here.”

  He extends a hand to Dax, who shakes it.

  “Hurt her, I’ll kill you,” Tad says.

  Dax tugs Tad slightly closer and promises, “Same to you.”

  They nod after their cavemanlike exchange, and then Dax slings his backpack over his shoulder.

  “I have to collect a few things from the office,” I tell him, and in a way we’re reenacting the first night we met. The first night of the rest of our lives, I think, like a sap. “Meet you out front?”

  “Okay, Princess.”

  I watch him walk out of the restaurant, admiring his perfect ass and the strong, capable way he holds himself. And then I think about how he’s in love with me. How he showed up and asked me not to go to New York because he worried that my choosing him was second best.

  What he didn’t know was that I love him too. I don’t care what side of the bed I sleep on, as long as Dax Vaughn is on the other side of it.

  Damn. This swelling, swirling, too-full feeling in the center of my chest feels really good. Feels really right.

  I think I might have found my destiny.

  Finally.

  Epilogue

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  Becca

  North Street Bar is packed with diners, and not one of them is paying a single penny to eat or drink here tonight. It’s a practice run for the full menu and for the newly appointed waitstaff, bartenders, and kitchen guys.

  In a lot of ways, North Street is my and Dax’s baby. Our firstborn. Sure, he and Barrett may have done most of the manual labor, but Dax and I were creating something new. Something that was us.

  “I can’t tell if I’m nervous or excited,” I say, standing over a table of four with my hand resting on my middle. “How can you tell if they’re butterflies or bats in your stomach?”

  “Bec.” Grace, the bawdy redhead who runs McGreevy’s, raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got this.”

  “Yeah,” Davis agrees, looping an arm around his fiancée’s neck and kissing her cheek. “You learned from the best: Gracie.”

  Grace and Davis are an odd couple at first blush, but since I’ve gotten to know her—and him too, since he rarely leaves her side—I’ve learned they’re perfect for each other.

  The other couple at the table is equally doomed to be together forever, but where Grace and Davis seem like an odd couple, Jackie and Vince are a matched set. His dark good looks and her girl-next-door charm are darling together. They’re full-color-catalog perfect. Plus, they’re really freaking cool.

  “You’ll do great,” Jackie tells me. I’ve been on a few girls’ nights out with her and Grace. Jackie’s fun, but don’t give her liquor. She’s just this side of crazy if you get a shot of tequila in her. “Just picture everyone in their underwear.”

  “Especially me,” Vince says, his blue eyes sparkling. He oozes charm and good humor. Jackie never stood a chance.

  “I’m not wearing underwear,” Dax says, approaching the table.

  Grace slaps her hands over her eyes and Jackie covers her ears.

  “Which one of you is ‘speak no evil’?” I poll the guys. “We have the other two covered.”

  “Ready to do this, Princess?” Dax asks. Jackie and Grace coo over the nickname. He frowns down at them. “Shut up.”

  “I think it’s sweet.” Grace purses her lips and makes a few kissy noises, and everyone at the table laughs.

  “Gotta go,” I tell them. “Wish me luck.”

  “Luck!” my new friends shout.

  Dax links his hand in mine and leads me to the stage at the front of the restaurant. We decided North Street needed an open-mic night. The stage added a month to the construction, but we didn’t care. We wanted it to be right. Now it is.

  Dax insisted that I dance on some nights. I agreed. Like I’d pass up the chance to shake my groove thing at my own place?

  I know, I know. You’re coming in late. I skipped about a million details. To bring you up to speed: North Street Bar is half mine—a fifty-fifty partnership with Dax. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend the bulk of my savings. I guess you could say he and I went all in all around.

  I moved into his apartment and yeah, it’s a tight fit, but since Dax and I haven’t managed to pry ourselves apart yet, it works. We are looking for a bigger space, but we still haven’t found the right space.

  It’s okay, though. We have time. After all, babies take nine months to grow, and I’m only ten weeks along.

  Surprise!

  Just do me a favor and don’t tell Grace and Jackie yet. I have a feeling it’d break their hearts to know that when I go out with them next weekend I’ll be doing so as the designated driver.

  Onstage, Dax has no need for a microphone. He bellows, “Good evening,” and easily gains the room’s attention.

  “Thanks for being at North Street’s soft opening,” he says. The crowd claps. As do I. “When Becca and I decided to do this together, everything became easier. Plus, guys. She can cook her face off.”

  “Hell yeah!” Vince shouts, and Davis whistles his approval. They know. I’ve been feeding them since I moved here.

  “As you know, the grand opening is tomorrow, but that’s not the only grand opening I have planned.”

  I cock my head at him. That’s news to me. Did he buy another bar or something?

  “Couldn’t think of a better time to do this,” he continues. “So here goes.”

  The crowd goes silent as he drops to one knee in front of me. And ohmygawd, I feel faint.

  Speaking low so only I can hear, he cracks open a velvet box and reveals a stunning diamond solitaire in a platinum band. It’s a princess cut.

  Swoon!

  “Marry me, Princess?” he asks. Perfectly.

  I’m such a cliché. My jaw drops. My hand rests on my collarbone. Tears flood my vision.

  “Do it!” comes a shout that I’m pretty sure was Davis.

  “Do it, Princess. I’m lost without you.” Dax lowers his voice even more to say, “Plus, my mom won’t freak out that we’re not married when we tell her about her first grandchild because she’ll be too excited about the engagement.”

  I grin, bend at the waist and kiss Dax, and the room erupts like it did at Grand Lark a few months ago. Only this crowd is three times bigger and three times more invested, since they’re Dax’s friends and coworkers.

  “About fucking time!” comes a supportive shout. I’m certain that was Barrett, the bad boy of the NFL, turned bad boy sportscaster—because OMG did he get himself into trouble recently!

  What am I doing?! I don’t have time to tell you about that. I have to answer Dax.

  “Yes!” I shout and, you guessed it, earn more applause. I’ve always wanted to be onstage earning this much praise, but being proposed to might exceed even my biggest dreams of stardom.

  Dax slides the ring onto my finger and chucks the empty velvet ring box into the crowd. Barrett, reflexes honed from years of playing football, catches it.

  He holds the box in the air, triumphant, until his expression shifts with the realization that catching the ring box could mean he’s doomed to be the next one walking down the aisle. I doubt he’s in any real danger. Finding a woman who would accept all that he is would be stone-cold miracle. Trust me on that one.

  Dax stands and holds me close for a long kiss. I’m dizzy with joy when we part and he shouts, “Let’s do this!”

  We hop off the stage and dart in different directions, Dax to oversee the bar and me, the kitchen. Amid waitresses and waiters buzzing between us, we wink at each other from across the room.

  I take a second in the dim corridor between the bathrooms and the kitchen to admire the sparkle of my diamond in the weak light overhead. Then I rest my hand on my still-flat tummy and blink away more tears as my nose stings.

  When this kid comes into the world, the first thing I’m telling her is that her father swept me off my feet at a time I wasn’t looking for anyone. I’ll tell her how her dad encouraged me to chase my heart, while reminding my family that I was capable of anything. I’ll tell her that he came for me again and again and let me spread my wings wide, but never wide enough to leave him.

  Unless this bundle ends up being a boy. And then I’ll mostly tell him about the flood and the Jeep campsite and how his dad once cut a massive downed tree with a chainsaw.

  I take a step toward the kitchen and pause to look for Dax. He’s watching me while the bustling bar staff races around. He gives me a tender smile that I return, even as I stand frozen in the middle of the melee of waitstaff running to and fro.

  In the chaos we find each other. Gazes locked. Hearts beating in sync. That familiar string of longing and heat stretched out between us.

  “Love you,” he mouths.

  “Love you too,” I mouth back.

  Now.

  We’ll start building our future.