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“Not planning on it. Now, let’s go put some breakfast on. Mom deserves the morning off.”
“Pancakes?” They were her go-to comfort food.
“Absolutely.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
San Diego, California
Sunday, April 24, 10:30 a.m.
Clutching Snickerdoodle’s leash tightly in one hand and the gift bag Betsy had prepared in the other, Kit approached the corner café. A kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she didn’t like the feeling.
She was thirty minutes late. She wondered if he’d still be waiting.
Who was she kidding? Of course he’d be there.
Sam Reeves had promised to meet her for brunch in the café near his apartment. He wouldn’t break that promise.
Betsy would be so upset if she’d known that Kit had kept the man waiting, but once she’d parked her Subaru, she’d simply sat there, staring at the passersby.
What am I doing?
She was meeting Sam Reeves for brunch, which was insane. She’d started so many times to break the date but couldn’t make herself do it.
He didn’t deserve a brush-off. But this was complicated.
I let him hold me. In front of everyone. Everyone in the world because the photo had gone viral. It was a disaster.
But he made you feel safe when you needed it most.
She didn’t need anyone to make her feel safe. Well, maybe Harlan and Betsy and Akiko and Baz. But that was all.
Somehow Harlan and Betsy had found out about the date and prepared gifts for the man. She couldn’t back out now.
But this was insane. She didn’t do relationships.
You hadn’t met Sam Reeves yet.
Shut up.
So she’d come up with a plan for this morning. She’d use the time to bring him up to speed on what they now knew about John Scott and Colton Driscoll. Then she’d bid him a cordial goodbye.
And that would be that.
She’d even brought Snickerdoodle with her to be her excuse to leave. Rita was waiting for them to come back. The girl had slept with Snickerdoodle every night since they’d rescued her from John Scott.
They. Kit and Sam. Together.
The butterflies in her stomach became lead weights. There was no they.
And then she saw him. He was watching her approach, slowly standing at the table he’d snagged at the very edge of the outdoor eating area, shielded on two sides by a wooden fence. They’d have privacy there.
His expression was serious, his eyes intense behind his dark-framed glasses.
She really liked those glasses. She liked a lot of things about him. That was the problem.
The butterflies were back, dammit.
