Table for Two. Jennifer McKenzie

to be worrying about me.”

      “Of course I’m going to worry about you. You’re family and I love you.” Grace put an arm around Mal. “And I just want to be clear that should you need to talk, I’m here. Or if you need a shoulder to cry on, mine are pretty big.”

      Mal smiled through the prickling behind her eyes. “Owen doesn’t know how lucky he is to have you.”

      “He does.” Grace leaned forward so their heads were nearly touching. “I tell him regularly.”

      Mal laughed. Grace had been good for her brother in so many ways. In fact, Grace had been good for her, too. “Thanks.” Mallory felt a little better.

      “And when you’re up to it, remind me to tell you about my failed attempts at dating via matchmaker.”

      Mal craned her neck to look at her. There was a twinkle in Grace’s eye, but not one that indicated she was joking. “Oh, I’m up to it, and that’s an awfully juicy piece of intel to keep from me, one of your nearest and dearest friends. Tell me.”

      Grace smiled. “It was before Owen. Well, actually, it was between Owen. It did not go well. Except that it made clear to me that the only man I wanted to be with was your brother.”

      “Something I still don’t understand.”

      Grace squeezed her. “Be nice, because I’m about to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

      “Shouldn’t I hear it first?”

      Grace gave her another hard squeeze. “Anyway, it was my failed attempt at getting over your brother. I only went on one date, but I’d paid for the full service. Social dinners, one-on-one dates, personalized matches.”

      Mal met Grace’s expectant look. “Are you trying to gift me your matchmaking services?” Because while she was coming to the realization that her work-life balance was completely off, she wasn’t sure she wanted to dive into the deep end of the dating pool. Maybe wiggle her toes around and wade in slowly. “I’m not sure.”

      “No pressure, but I think you should consider it.” Grace slowly turned her head, shot a pointed look over Mal’s shoulder. Mal knew she was looking at Travis. “Unless you’ve got your eye on someone else?”

      “I don’t.” Mal felt she needed to be clear on that. “But not having my eye on someone else and joining a matchmaking service don’t exactly go together.”

      But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel at least a spark of interest. Even if it was just to show Travis how thoroughly she’d moved on. And it was probably time she started dating again. She hadn’t been on a date in—she paused to mentally calculate—four years. Not since Travis had walked into her first year master’s course, Foundations of Managerial Economics, sat down beside her and asked her to have coffee with him after class. The rest, as they say, was history.

      Too bad it was a history she’d rather forget.

      “I think it might be good for you.”

      “And it might not.” But instinct had her head swiveling to look in Travis’s direction again. Common sense had her stopping short and returning her gaze to Grace before she could embarrass herself. Again.

      “You sure you don’t have something or someone else in mind?” There was a teasing note in Grace’s tone.

      Mal gave what she hoped was an airy toss of her head. “I repeat, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “Sure you don’t.” Grace didn’t bother to hide her smirk.

      Mal decided to ignore that. Not that Grace wasn’t right. Nope, the problem was that Grace was right and Mal wasn’t fooling anyone. She exhaled. Still, she wasn’t ready to give in so easily. Because down that road lay danger. She’d be admitting her leftover feelings for Travis to Grace, who would mention it to Owen who, along with his warped idea that she and Travis might actually have a future together, would try to throw them together and then...who knew?

      No, it was best to bury any lingering feelings she might have and move on. Maybe now, faced with the object of her discontent, she’d find it easier to work toward that goal. It was certainly no longer abstract.

      “So, what do you say?” Grace gave her an encouraging nod. “You willing to give it a try?”

      Mal knew she should say yes. Really, what could the harm be? That she didn’t meet anyone? She already wasn’t meeting anyone. That someone might break her heart? At this point, she wasn’t sure it could ever be put back together again anyway. “I...I’m not sure.”

      Grace’s eyes tilted down at the corners. “What about if I asked you to do it as my wedding present?”

      What was it with Grace and Owen wanting her to do something as their wedding gift? “I already bought you something amazing.”

      But Grace didn’t respond, just watched her with hopeful eyes. Mal couldn’t deny those hopeful eyes.

      She huffed out a breath. “Fine. I’ll do it.” And hoped she wouldn’t live to regret it.

       CHAPTER THREE

      TRAVIS SPENT THE two weeks post wedding not in a state of wedded bliss. But since he hadn’t been the one to get married, that didn’t come as much of a surprise. The lack of other bliss was more disappointing.

      Sure, it might have been foolish to think that simply by apologizing Mal might forgive him. But she wouldn’t even agree to talk to him. He didn’t count the few minutes of conversation at the reception because...well, because he didn’t. He still had some things to say. Many somethings.

      Fortunately, he had plenty to keep him busy so that he only spent half his time thinking about Mal, calling Mal and thinking about calling Mal. Okay, maybe a little more than half. Three quarters, tops.

      He looked out the car window as Sara Thompson, his real estate agent, drove and chatted about the next potential bar location on the list.

      The city hadn’t changed much in the three years he’d been away. There was new construction, but that was the norm these days. A formerly derelict hotel had been torn down to make way for new condos, more coffee shops, another few sushi restaurants. One of the good things about the constant gentrification and renovation was that there was always property for sale, and property was something Travis needed.

      He had no intention of returning to Vancouver to work for someone else. No, now he had a taste for ownership, for being the boss. And now he had enough money to qualify for a loan on his own and no longer needed another signatory or the financial backing of an investor. It was a good feeling. Proof that he’d made it.

      The Kincaids weren’t well-to-do. Travis hadn’t grown up with much. A small house with well-loved furniture, two pairs of shoes, two pairs of jeans—one set for church, one set for everyday—and the knowledge that if he wanted more than the tiny town where he’d been born, he’d have to do it on his own.

      But they’d had love. His mother and grandma were quick to shower affection and praise, even his father, in his own silent way, showed he cared. A small proud smile, a solid clap on the back and a grunt for a job well done. Travis knew he and his brother, Shane, had been lucky. Many of the kids they’d gone to school with hadn’t been so fortunate as to have that love and support.

      Until Travis, the Kincaids had always been blue collar and they liked it that way. He was different. The thought of working at the mill, running the machines, driving the forklift, always with the worry of closure hanging over his head as more and more companies downsized or shut down completely just wasn’t for him.

      He much preferred the difficult and often backbreaking work of standing on his feet all day, handling customers with charm and overseeing the budget and obscenely thin margins that separated restaurant successes from