And I act on that urge.

“Shhh, you loon,” Ryan says, yanking our hands back down.

He makes me promise I’ll behave when we go into the restaurant, and I agree, but only because I have one hand behind my back, fingers crossed. I’ll do as I see fit once we get in there.

When we step into the kitchen, a hush falls over it. It’s equal parts reverence and fear. Ryan’s dark eyes slide over every surface, and the entire staff waits with bated breath. I had no idea Ryan struck this kind of fear in people (clearly, they didn’t know him during his saggy-jeans-and-green-leprechaun-boxer phase). But I’m not going to lie; it’s sexy as all get-out holding hands with the man who’s making the poor guy in the corner tremble in his stained apron.

I glance up and see the beautiful severe lines on Ryan’s face and savor that I get to be on this side of his life now. The side that knows how many crinkles live beside his eyes when he smiles and that his dimple only pops when he is really and truly happy.

“Chef, you’re back,” says a woman stepping forward before her troop. Her eyes slide from Ryan to me and down to our hands. Her face softens a little—almost as if she’s relieved to see our interlaced fingers. I like her immediately.

“Not officially,” he says, the new stern quality to his voice a little shocking to me. It sends a happy little chill dancing down my spine, and I can’t wait to see what happens next. “I just wanted to stop by, see how the kitchen is running, and show June around.” He squeezes my hand, and for a brief moment, his severity slides away, and he’s just Ryan again. “Nia, this is June. June, Nia is my sous-chef. And an incredible one at that.”

Judging by the way Nia’s face beams from Ryan’s praise, I don’t think it’s a usual occurrence for him to dish it out.

For the next ten minutes, I follow beside Ryan as we walk around the kitchen. Everyone quakes, and no one escapes Ryan’s notice. “Tim, you hungover? Don’t let that happen tomorrow or you’re out of my kitchen. Sanders, tell me you’ve not been scorching my sauce like this the whole time I’ve been gone.” He’s ruthless.

“You,” he says, pointing to a wide-eyed young guy. “I don’t even know your name, but if you keep chopping at the pace of a snail, those orders won’t be out until Christmas. Don’t mess it up.” Actually, I cleaned up his language a bit. Turns out, Ryan has a real potty mouth in the kitchen.

It’s Top Chef in here. High-stakes cooking, and if you’re good, you go on to the next round. If you’re bad…I don’t know, maybe you just keel over and die? It feels that way by the fear radiating off these people.

As much as I’m enjoying this live episode, I can’t help but notice Ryan never once smiles in here like he did in my donut shop. But I don’t know. Maybe that’s just the way things go in the chef world. What I do know is how happy I am to be on this side of Ryan’s wrath.

A few minutes later, we follow Nia out of the kitchen, and while she and Ryan are talking shop in the hallway, I slip off to use the bathroom. On my way back, I peek my head into the kitchen again.

“Hey! Y’all are doing great! Keep at it!” I offer my encouraging speech with a big cheesy grin and a thumbs-up. I feel really good about my contribution to the staff morale until I exit the kitchen and find Ryan’s lifted brow and smirk aimed at me.

“Did you just pep talk my staff?”

My eyes go wide. “Never. No. I was just giving that guy some pointers on the sauce.”

“Mm-hmm. I’m getting you out of here before you have them all holding hands and singing campfire songs.”

“Oooh, that sounds fun! Do you think they’d do it?”

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and kisses my temple. “Maybe next time. We’ve got a date to get ready for.”

My stomach dips at his words. I have no idea what to expect. All I know is that Ryan has been dragging this out for so long that I’m sure he’s got something spectacular planned. A man does not haul a woman all the way to another state for a mediocre date.

“Oh, so are you taking her to the opening tonight, then?” asks Nia.

“Opening?” I ask Ryan.

He looks down at me. “That’s not the date I have planned. She’s talking about a restaurant opening of one of my old friends from culinary school.”

“Oh, let’s go, then! If it’s your friend’s restaurant, you should be there to support him.”

Ryan studies my face with furrowed brows, trying to find any hints of a lie. “You sure?”

I poke him in the cheek, ready for him to stop looking so serious. “Why wouldn’t I be? Sounds like a fun night out.”

He looks back up to Nia. “All right, looks like we’ll see you there.”

There’s something about hearing the word we that makes me tingle.

They say their goodbyes, and when Ryan and I are both situated in his truck again, he leans over the console and kisses me. Just as I start to taste the mint in his mouth, he pulls away and smiles. “Are you ready for that date now?”

My heart hammers against my chest. For some reason, I thought the opening tonight would mean postponing the date. I like this option much better.

—

We get back to Ryan’s place to get ready for this mystery date, and before we part in the hall, he says, “Wear whatever makes you feel most like a sexy woman.”

That phrase is majorly ick and doesn’t sound at all like something he’d say.

I have no idea what that means. It’s not very helpful and leaves me more confused than before he said it.

“I’m going to pretend you never said that horrific sentence. Should I dress up or dress casual?”

But Ryan doesn’t answer. He buttons his lips with a smirk and disappears into his room. Unfortunately he shuts the door; otherwise, I would absolutely watch him dress for no other reason than to get an idea of what to wear myself. NO OTHER REASON.

I open the top drawer of the dresser, where I unpacked my clothes, and my eye catches on the i ♥ nick socks my mom bought me. My heart twists. It’s time to tell her the truth. She deserves to know.

Without allowing any time to talk myself out of it, I grab my phone, flop myself back on the bed, and dial Mom. It rings three times before she answers. “Hi, sugar! I was just thinking about—”

“Mom. Ben cheated on me!” I blurt it out in one big rush, like a balloon that’s had its end cut off. “I found out just before the wedding. That’s why I called it off.”

There’s a stunned silence for a minute, and I shut my eyes, worried that she’s upset with me for keeping this from her for so long.

And then I hear the three words I was not expecting. “We know, darlin’.”

I peek my eyes open, my shoulders relaxing against the mattress. “You knew?”

This time, I hear the a cappella choir of my giant family. “Yep!”

I shoot up in bed. “Why am I hearing ten annoying voices?”

“Because we’re all together and I had you on speaker when you called,” says Mom.

“Hi, June!” That’s Jake, and he’s grinning ear to ear; I can hear it in his voice.

“Having fun in Chicago?” Evie adds.

“All right, y’all skedaddle. I don’t think June meant for everyone to hear that declaration.” Thank you, Mom.

“Okay, we’re going. But, June, we all already knew about Ben. So there’s nothing to feel weird about,” says Jake, his voice slipping farther away.

I sigh. Nothing to feel weird about? Nothing other than my family all knowing my giant secret for five years and pretending they didn’t know!