In the end, getting what I’d wanted had been simple. All I’d needed to do was get out of my own damn way.
But I’d never forget how I’d walked away from this woman and made myself miserable. I’d never be so dumb again. Never take us for granted, or think there was anything we couldn’t work through. There was no problem we couldn’t solve, so long as we didn’t turn away from each other.
“You have my heart,” I murmured. “That means everything I am and everything I have belongs to you. Get used to it.”
She tilted her face up to mine. A smile lifted her lips, her eyes were unfocused, and her messy hair tumbled over her shoulders. She’d never looked more beautiful.
“I love you, Kade,” she whispered. “All of you, every bit. I’m a love locomotive, and I’ll never stop.”
I lifted my hand to stroke her soft cheek. “Two locomotives, parallel tracks,” I whispered back. “Let’s circle the world together.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Natalie
“What are you doing?” scolded my father grumpily. “You’re ruining perfectly good pieces of beef.”
“Adding fresh mint will give the dish some zing.” Kade threw a handful of leaves into the pan and flashed a mischievous grin at the camera.
“Zing?” My father sagged dramatically over the arm of his wheelchair, slapping a despairing hand against his forehead. “If I wanted zing, I’d add chili, not mint.”
“Actually, cilantro’s the next ingredient.”
“Cilantro?” Dad jerked his head up, his jaw loosening in exaggerated horror. “Are you mentally ill? Have your taste buds died? Or did that cow do something so horrible to you, you’ve sworn vengeance against it? That’s it, isn’t it? Cilantro is your bovine revenge!”
I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from snorting a laugh and being kicked off the set. But I wasn’t the only one. The camera men were grinning, and even the dour-faced director was pinching his lips together to hold his amusement.
“Cilantro will add freshness and flavor.” Kade grabbed a handful of the herb, ignoring my father’s groans as he chopped it. He kept talking while he scattered it over the meat, describing to the camera how delicious the dish was going to taste, while Dad rolled his eyes and shook his head.
Though there wasn’t much room for spectators, the director had said it would be okay for me to squeeze into a corner of the café’s kitchen and watch today’s shoot for a while. And I’d enjoyed every minute of it.
I’d never in my wildest dreams imagined my funny, exuberant, sometimes grumpy father could be a TV star. But Dad and Kade’s onscreen bickering over the best way to prepare their recipes was so hilarious, Dad’s short cameo performance in the first episode had become longer in each subsequent one.
Dad was in heaven. Especially because his dearest wish had come true, and he was finally back in the kitchen at Mack’s Place.
When the scene was done and they were taking a break, I blew an admiring kiss at Kade. He came to my corner to wrap his arms around me.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“You’re wonderful. Dad’s hilarious. You’re great together.”
“Mack’s a natural.” He glanced from side to side, then leaned closer to my ear and lowered his voice. “I’m trying to get him his own show. That fancy kitchen you installed in his apartment is too small for filming, but the studio could build him his own set.”
“Really? He’d love that!”
“Billy wants to sign him as a client.”
I gaped at him. “Seriously? Does Dad know?”
“Not yet. Billy’s going to talk to him after shooting. Until then, don’t say anything okay?” He kissed me again. “We’ll be shooting for another two or three hours. Are you going to stick around?”
I shook my head. “I can’t. I have to get to my life drawing class.”
His dimples flashed. “You mean your cocktails and gossip session?”
“What?” I folded my arms and glared at him over the top of my glasses. “I’ll have you know it’s a serious art class.”
“So you’re a famous author and a serious artist now? I’m impressed.” He tapped his chin. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be in your study working on your sequel to Murder At Mack’s Place? Didn’t your publisher pay you a rather large advance?”
I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“It’s not going well?” His teasing smile vanished and real concern appeared in his eyes. “Honey, is everything okay? Remember, you can ask for more time if you need to. Don’t let them pressure you.”
“No, it’s going okay. Actually, I’m almost finished. But endings are hard. I can’t decide which of my characters will get to live and which will end up in the meat grinder.” I pouted. “Next book I write will definitely be a romance. At least that way I know how it’ll end.”
He quirked a suggestive eyebrow. “Aren’t romance novels all about meat grinding?”
“They end with a happily ever after.”
He smirked. “Only yours will have sex from cover to cover, because I’m going to be the hero of that book, right? It’ll probably need to be two books so you have enough room to squeeze in all the different ways I make love to the heroine. Or an entire series. Like Game Of Thrones, but with sex instead of murders.”
“I’m not sure I’ve decided who the hero of my romance will be.” I widened my eyes innocently, pursing my lips as though it was a matter I needed to consider. “Maybe I should hold auditions for the part.”
“What?!” Sliding his hands around my waist, he tugged me against him. “There’ll only be one audition, and it’ll start as soon as I get you home.” His voice was so growly, it sent a shiver of heat and anticipation down my spine. “And you’d better call your agent, because during my audition you’ll be too busy to write anything for a very long time.”
“I’ll send her a text message.”
