From the Start by Melissa Tagg Read Free Book Online Page A

with this?”
    Charlie climbed back into her chair. “If you’ve gone to allthe trouble to make waffles, it’s only right to top them with real whipped cream.”
    Colton looked from Kate to the can back to her. “Didn’t know Logan had a gourmet chef for a sister.”
    “ Ha! Hardly. It’s just that when it comes to waffles, well, I have standards.” She moved to the fridge.
    “Then I really don’t know how to tell you this. . . .”
    She ducked her head in the fridge and spotted what she’d hoped to find. She pulled out the carton of whipping cream. “Tell me what?”
    “I didn’t make those waffles. They’re from a box in the freezer. The only thing I did was toast them.”
    “Colton Greene.” She let her jaw drop in exaggerated shock and shook her head. “I’d scold you further, but truthfully, breakfast is the only meal I do with any kind of style. Lunch and dinner . . . it’s all PB&J and mac ’n’ cheese. Still, I think I’d better introduce you to the joys of real whipped cream.” The sound of Charlie’s fork scraping against her plate sounded behind them. Kate pointed to the pantry. “You get the powdered sugar, I’ll go hunting for the hand mixer.”
    Only minutes later, she had the mixer going and the cream was starting to fluff. Beside her, Colton took a drink of the coffee she’d poured. Sputtered. “What the—”
    “Dad must’ve made it.” Kate’s voice rose over the mixer. Her own mug was already half-empty. “He likes it muddy.”
    “Muddy? Try swamp-like.” Colton motioned to the bowl. “You do realize by the time you’ve got that ready, Charlie will be done eating.”
    “It’s the principle of the thing. Little more sugar.”
    He lifted the bag of sugar and poured until Kate signaled for him to stop. She felt his gaze on her as she scraped the beaters along the edge of the bowl.
    “You’re the sibling who lives in Chicago, right?”
    “Yep.” A city she’d never expected to end up in. Writing stories she’d never expected to write.
    And for the hundredth time since that call from the foundation, bubbles of hope rose up and floated through her—though the reality of her financial situation poked at them.
    “So family order . . . Logan’s the oldest, then you, then the other brother—”
    “Beckett. He’s twenty-eight. Lives in Boston.” Lawyer on his way to partner.
    “And then Raegan.”
    “Yes, she’s the youngest.” Which meant she put up with her fair share of ribbing about her baby-of-the-family status and the fact that at twenty-five she still slept in her old daybed in Dad’s house.
    “And Seth . . . ?”
    Kate turned off the mixer. “Cousin who’s more like a sibling. He moved back to Maple Valley about a year ago, opened his own restaurant about a month back.” And because he’d poured so much of his own money into starting the business, he’d been living in Dad’s basement to save on rent. She unfastened one of the beaters from the mixer and handed it to Colton.
    He blinked. “I’m supposed to lick that off?”
    “Proving a point here, Greene.”
    He shrugged, took the beater, taste-tested her creation.
    She folded her arms. “Well?”
    “Fine, it’s better than the stuff in the can. You were right.”
    She leaned one elbow on the counter, licked off her own beater. “What was that last part? Couldn’t quite hear you.”
    His blue eyes narrowed. “I’m not saying it again.” He reached one hand toward her face, and Kate jumped back.
    “What are you—”
    “You’ve got whipped cream in your hair.”
    Kate stilled, nerves fidgeting through her as Colton brushed out the whipped cream with his fingers.
    So close. And oh, he smelled like . . . soap and pinewood and flannel.
    “What’s going on in here?”
    They both jumped as if kids caught loitering where they shouldn’t be, and Kate’s gaze flew to the figure standing in the opening between the kitchen and the living room.
    Arm in a sling, face bruised, form