I then began messing up orders and spilling drinks, and, in an attempt to save a woman’s white blouse, I tipped my tray back my way so a full bowl of salsa fell on me instead of her. I’m pretty sure my shirt had been craving salsa anyway.

The after-work rush had just begun to taper off when Kash pushed me down the hall toward the bathrooms and handed me a new work shirt.

“Go change, Rach.”

“What, you don’t like what I’m wearing now?” I laughed humorlessly and grabbed the shirt from him.

He smiled wickedly at me and leaned over so his lips were at my ear. “You look so . . . very . . .” His lips brushed my ear before he leaned back.

I cleared my throat and tried not to lean toward him. “I look what? Edible?” I asked, pointing at my newest addition to my shirt.

Sucking on the metal in his lip, he gave me a once-over, and when his eyes came back up to mine they were heated. Completely not fitting his next statement. “I was going to say disgusting. But sure, edible works too.”

“You’re such an ass**le.” I smacked his arm and turned toward the bathroom.

He laughed and backed up in the direction of the dining area. “Cheer up, Sour Patch.”

Until I was home, in my pajamas, and had a pint of Ben and Jerry’s in front of me, that wasn’t likely to happen.

A part of me hated that he could so easily go back to how we’d been, without so much as a hint of what had happened that morning—but I knew that’s how it needed to be and was thankful that at least it hadn’t changed the friendship I’d come to love from him. I changed shirts, tried to wipe off as much as possible on my other shirt before throwing it in a to-go bag and putting it in my purse, and planted another fake smile on my face. I could get through the rest of the shift. Three more hours was nothing. Right? My cramps made their presence known and my back started aching.

I’d lied. Three hours would feel like forever.

Over two hours later, I’d successfully avoided spilling anything else on myself. And thank God there were no more evil food-throwing babies.

I was clearing some plates off a table when I heard the familiar strum of guitar chords. My heart clenched painfully as I slowly made my way to the kitchen. Tonight was another open-mic night, and while I enjoyed having live music playing throughout the bar and dining room, I didn’t usually pay that much attention to it. But there was no way to miss this song. The deep, husky voice began crooning through the speakers as I came back out of the kitchen empty-handed. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that I knew that voice as I made my way to a spot where I could see the stage.

I rubbed a hand over my aching chest and stopped suddenly when I saw Kash sitting on the stool in front of the mic with a guitar in his hands. What was he doing? Since when did he play guitar and sing? And why this song? His eyes searched the dining area and landed on me just as he began the first chorus of “I’ll Be.” Tears pricked the back of my eyes and my entire body warmed under his intense stare as he continued through words that meant more to me than he could have known. Not once did he take his eyes from me, and my mind and heart fought over my conflicting feelings. Part of me wanted to yell that he was the guy I’d been waiting for. That I was in love with him and was done being only his friend. The other part wanted to know why he was torturing me with this song. With everything else that had happened tonight and the fourth anniversary of my parents’ death less than two months away, I wanted to run away from there, to curl in a ball and mourn what I had lost and would never have. I couldn’t call my mom and tell her I’d met a guy whose presence alone made me dizzy. Who sang to me the same song Dad had always sung to her. I couldn’t tell my parents that no matter how hard I fought my feelings and pushed Kash away, I knew I’d met the man I wanted to marry.

The haunting words drifted to an end, and soon the chords did too. When Kash was finished, he put the guitar on the stand and began walking in my direction. Throughout all of this, his eyes still hadn’t left mine. Before he could reach me, the bitter side of me won out and I turned on my heel and rushed back to my customers. I kept myself busy for the rest of the hour and whenever I had to go over to the bar, I made sure to go to Bryce’s side so I wouldn’t have to face Kash again.

I knew I was being ridiculous, but if it had been any song other than that one, if it had been on a night that wasn’t wearing me completely down, I may have been brave enough to finally fight for what I wanted. But right now all I could think of was finishing out this shift at work and staying far from Logan Hendricks. Somehow, he knew how to get to me. And somehow, I knew that our being together was right. But especially after that morning, everything about him—and us together—scared me. And I wasn’t sure I could handle that right now.

People say that being in love is amazing.

They lie. It’s freaking terrifying.

“WHAT’S UP, LADY, how was work?”

I looked at Candice and groaned. “It sucked so bad!” I went into the kitchen, where she was searching for dinner, and jumped on the counter as I told her about the entire night—including Kash’s song.

“Oh my God! Did you tell him about that song and what it means to you?”

“No! We’ve never even talked about it. I really think it was just some freaky coincidence but it—God, it hurt, Candi.” I wanted to tell her about the kiss that morning, but Candice and I hadn’t talked about guys for me since the whole Blake incident, and I didn’t know how to bring it up now.