“Add a little more rum,” my almost-sister-in-law Maggie says. She bastes the turkey with practiced strokes.

I shake my head as she shoves the bird back in my nearly too tiny oven. “You’re the only person I know who bakes turkey with alcohol.”

Maggie waggles the baster at me. “Everything is better with alcohol.”

“Just ask her very satisfied customers,” Drew adds, giving her a hug from behind. He grins at me over Maggie’s shoulder. “And wait until you taste her Thanksgiving cranberry cupcakes. She’s been testing the recipe all week, and they have like, five bottles of vodka in them.”

“No way!” Maggie protests. “More like three.”

She winks, and I laugh. My brother and I usually do Thanksgiving back home, but Mom took off for Hawaii this year, so I invited the happy couple over here. And they are happy. I keep expecting the glow they have around each other to rub off on the furniture.

I love seeing both of them like this, but it does give me a wistful pang.

Drew goes back to peeling potatoes. “I’m glad I managed to get that last track laid down in time. The band wanted to work right through the holiday weekend. No sense of pacing themselves.”

“They want to get their big break like you did,” Maggie says. “And as soon as possible.”

“Well, I’m doing as much as a producer can. They’re a good act. They deserve to hit it big. But everyone needs a little downtime.”

“Like you were so good about that when you were the superstar,” I tease. He gives me a little jab with his elbow as he passes me. I turn to Maggie. “So do you get into pumpkin pies and all that for the season?” She runs a bakery back in Philly, and her main culinary expertise is pastries.

“Not pies,” Maggie says. “But pumpkin-flavored everything else. Pumpkin cupcakes! Pumpkin Danishes! Pumpkin croissants, because, why not? My favorite was the order I got last week for a custom pumpkin-spice cake, shaped and decorated to look like a pumpkin, complete with pumpkin-flavored icing. I swear, I’ll be happy if I never have to see—or smell—another pumpkin again. For at least eleven months.”

“You haven’t said much about your work, McKenna,” Drew asks. “I’m surprised you’re not more excited about getting that funding. How’s it been, working with this Jack Callahan?”

Infuriating. Intoxicating. Heart-wrenching.

Let’s not go there.

“Oh, you know, he’s the typical playboy, parties and fast cars,” I lie, hoping the warmth in my cheeks doesn’t show. “It took a while to get him serious about working together, but he saw the project’s worth in the end.”

Or at least the worth in putting an end to my unintentional hot-and-cold routine. It’s been a couple weeks, the paperwork has gone through, but we haven’t talked directly since that day in the Uber. It’s been all lawyers and assistants and vague emails about getting us set up in the Maverick infrastructure. Warren’s been salivating over the upgrades he can make to our tech, and Riley has been gushing about her sessions with his social media experts. I’m the only one who doesn’t know quite how to feel about the changes.

Drew nudges me. “It sounded like he got under your skin a bit.”

I force a laugh. “We got through the difficult parts. Now it’s just a matter of getting the final matchmaking rollout into full swing. I’ve barely been home except to sleep.”

“Enough with the work talk!” Maggie orders. “You deserve a day off too.” She glances around. “Now, I was going to make a pumpkin pie for tonight . . . You’ve got butter, right?”

“Er, sorry, just margarine.”

Maggie looks momentarily horrified. Drew chuckles. “I can pop out to the store and grab some.”

“And sugar,” she adds. “Vanilla . . . bourbon . . . pecans . . .”

“OK, OK!” Drew laughs. “Be right back.”

After he heads out, Maggie starts combining the ingredients for the pie filling. I take over chopping the dinner potatoes. It’s all quietly, warmly communal until Maggie says, “So what’s really going on with this Jack guy?”

I lose hold of a potato. It tumbles onto the floor. My cheeks flare as I race after it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she grins. “You’re the one who gave me a hard time about not admitting how I felt about Drew. I saw your expression when Drew asked about him. There’s something there.”

I sigh. That’s the problem when someone’s your oldest friend. There’s no hiding anything. “He’s completely, absolutely wrong for me.”

“Ah. But you want him anyway.”

I shoot her a look. “He’s so sexy, I lose my mind just being near him.”

Maggie grins. “And then there’s the whole billionaire playboy thing.”

I shake my head. “I like him in spite of that. But . . .” Oh, God, I might as well admit it. “We . . . kind of hooked up.”

“No!”

“Yes,” I groan. “But it was a really bad idea. He’s investing in Connective, Inc. It could get so messy.”

“Well, sometimes messy situations end up with pretty delicious results.” Maggie prods the mash of orange filling in her bowl. “You’ve seen my kitchen after a bake.”

“Men and cupcakes are slightly different.”

She laughs. “Not as much as they like to think. But, okay, look at me and Drew. How much of a mess were we? But we found our way through it.”

“I guess,” I sigh. “And maybe if it weren’t for the business side of things, give it a shot. But he’s my big investor now! One wrong move, and he could yank funding.”

“He wouldn’t do that, would he?” Maggie frowns.

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. But I don’t want to find out. That’s why I told him we’re strictly professional.”

“How did he take it?”

“Really well.” I pause.

She laughs. “You don’t look so happy about that.”

“No. I am. Really.” I try to convince myself. “It’s for the best.”

“Hey, at least you’ve got that funding. If he’s not the one, you’re going to have a whole app’s worth of dates to choose from soon!”

“Exactly.” We smile at each other, and I know that inviting her and Drew over was the right idea, even if there’s hardly room in this cramped kitchen.

Drew arrives with the butter just in time. Maggie whips up a piecrust, and shoves it into the oven just as the turkey comes out. We set the plates around the table, along with the decorations I picked up.

“Looking good.” I smile, taking in the spread of turkey, stuffing, and gravy. “Remind me to invite a professional chef for Christmas, too.”

Maggie laughs. “Is that a hint?”

“Maybe if—”

WAAAAAAHHHHHHH

The sound blares through the room.

“What the hell is that?” Drew yells.

“I think it’s the fire alarm!” I cry. “But that means—”

The sprinklers sputter on overhead, and suddenly, water sprays down—all over our Thanksgiving feast.

Tessa’s voice carries through the wall from next door. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Doug. I’m so sorry!”

I groan. Tessa is wonderful in many ways, but cooking for her man is . . . not her strong point. I thought she’d given up on it, but clearly, she decided to give it one more shot.

By the time the alarm cuts off and the sprinklers stop, our feast is ruined. The turkey is soaked. There’s a puddle on top of the mashed potatoes. The bowl of cranberry sauce is more water than berry.

Maggie makes a face. “I don’t think even I can salvage that.”

“There’s still the pie?” Drew says hopefully.

There is, but that’s not going to make a proper dinner. I wring out my wet T-shirt. “All that work . . . I guess it’s gone now.”

There’s silence—broken by a loud rumbling from Drew’s stomach.

“We could order in,” Maggie suggests. “Thanksgiving pizza? Thanksgiving Chinese?”

“Why don’t we go out somewhere? Give this place a chance to dry out.” I pause. Jack mentioned something about Katie’s restaurant once—it’s in the neighborhood. What was it called? “I know a place that should be good. Let’s get dried off and see if it’s open.”

The restaurant turns out to be just four blocks away. When we’re done mopping and drying, we head on over. Luckily, I see lights through the windows from a distance. But when we come up to the door, a CLOSED sign is dangling in it. Through the window, I can see a table set at the back of the warmly lit space. Seb and Katie are sitting there with a small group of what must be their friends—including Jack.

I pull back from the window at the sight of him, my heart lurching. But Seb has glanced up at just the wrong moment. He sees me and gives an enthusiastic wave.

“I think we’d better find somewhere else,” I say, turning to Drew and Maggie.

Drew cocks his head. “Do you know these people? Someone’s coming over.”

“I do, but—”

Before I can hustle them away, Seb has already opened the door. “McKenna!” he says. “Pleasure to see you again. Were you looking for Jack? I can rustle him over here for you.”

Maggie arches an eyebrow at me. I shake my head. “No, no, I didn’t mean to intrude. We just had a bit of a disaster with our dinner and I thought the restaurant might be open. We’ll leave you to it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Katie made twice as much food as we could possibly eat, as usual.” Seb grins. “We can pull up a few chairs. You’re basically part of the crowd now that you’ve got Jack roped in.” He winks at me. I’m blushing again. Shit.

Okay. We can make the best of this. It doesn’t have to be embarrassing. I’m definitely not stalking my investor who just happened to give me the best orgasm of my life.

Cool, McKenna. Platonic.

Seb ushers us in. “You already know Jack,” Seb says, pointing around the table. “Here, we’ll stick you three around the end next to him. These two lovebirds are Jake and Lizzie. And this is Cash, who puts up with the rest of us for some reason I can’t fathom.” The buff, bearded guy glowers at Seb, but he’s smiling. “Everyone, this is McKenna, developer of impressive apps.”

I end up sitting right beside Jack. Wonderful. “Um, hi, everyone,” I say with a little wave. “This is my brother Drew and his girlfriend Maggie. Thanks for letting us crash your dinner party.”

“Don’t worry yourself about it,” Katie says. “The more the merrier. Here, let me grab you some plates. We’d hardly even started.”

“So you’re Jack Callahan,” Drew says, looking Jack up and down. “I’m glad to hear you finally got on board with my sister’s company.”

“It did take me longer than it really should have,” Jack says casually. “I’m usually sharper than that. But all’s well that ends well. And you must be the famous Drew Delaney.”

Drew goes from looking protective to mildly panicked in an instant. “Please don’t tell me you’re a Cat 5 fan.”

Jack laughs. His knee bumps mine under the table—accidentally, I think, but that doesn’t stop the sparks from shooting up over my skin. “Wasn’t everyone, back then?”

“Almost,” I correct him. “You didn’t have to listen to every record five billion times.”

“My sister,” Drew teases good-naturedly. “So supportive.”

Katie sets plates heaping with food in front of each of us. The smell of the turkey and fixings makes my mouth water. I definitely have to come back here another time to try her usual fare. She returns to the head of the table and claps her hands.

“All right. Thanksgiving tradition. What are we all thankful for this year?”

The guy he introduced as Jake starts, at her right. “I’m thankful that this brilliant, gorgeous woman agreed to consider marrying me.”

Lizzie rolls her eyes at him. “And I’m thankful that this brilliant, gorgeous man decided to ask.”

Cash raises his glass. “I’m thankful you two will be married soon and can tone down the lovey dovey.” Katie clears her throat, and he grimaces. “Fine. I’m thankful for all the return clients I’ve gotten to make new pieces for this year.”

“He makes custom furniture,” Seb fills in for us at the end of the table.

My turn now. I pause. “I’m thankful to have family with me, and that I can finally see Perfect Match take off, after all the work we’ve put in.”

“And I’m thankful to be a part of that launch,” Jack aims his smile right at me, and I try not to melt.

The rest of the guests chime in with their own thanks, but all I can focus on is Jack—at least until it’s time to eat. The food tastes even more amazing than it smells. I pretty much inhale it, either way. “We have to come back here,” I say, meaning me, Drew, and Maggie, but Jack is the one who answers.

“Count on it.”

Maggie’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of us. Suddenly I want to hide under the table. Is it obvious how attracted to him I still am?

“I’m not stalking you, by the way. I really didn’t have any idea you’d be here,” I tell him.

“No?” He grins again. “And here I was hoping you simply couldn’t stand being without my company another day longer.”

I don’t know how to answer that, so I dive back into my plate.

When everyone’s done, Katie gets up to clear the dishes. I hurry to help. After gatecrashing their Thanksgiving, the least I can do is pitch in with the cleanup.

“It’s all right,” Katie says, when I show up with a load of dirty dishes. “Sit, sit.”

“I insist,” I say.

She sighs. “Have it your way. But you aren’t touching a single thing in the kitchen! You’re a guest.”

Drew leans toward Jack as I make my way past him. “That’s my sister for you. Can’t ever stop working. I swear she’d keep planning that app launch in her sleep if she could.”

“She’s very dedicated to the company,” Jack agrees. “That’s one of the qualities I appreciate about McKenna.”

“There is such a thing as working too hard, though,” Drew says pointedly. “She’s got to have a little breathing room to relax.”

Jack smiles. “Funny. I’ve often told her the exact same thing.”

“Hello!” I say. “I’m right here. I can hear you.”

Drew looks not at all repentant. “I’m doing my big brotherly duty.”

“You know, you have given me an idea.” Jack turns to me. “I’m heading out to my place in Montauk for the rest of the weekend. Being out there always helps me clear my head. We can spend some time finalizing your marketing plans for Perfect Match without any distractions, and you can take it easy the rest of the time.”

The weekend. His place in Montauk. Stay with him, just the two of us?

I hesitate, clutching the stack of plates I’ve gathered. Jack looks at me expectantly.

This is a bad idea, isn’t it?

Or else a really, really good one, a little voice in the back of my head whispers.

Before I can decide, Maggie makes up my mind for me. “Of course she will,” she says. “That sounds like exactly what McKenna needs. Right, Mac? And this way, Drew and I can have a romantic weekend in the city. Alone.”

Hint hint.

She beams at me, but her look tells me not to argue. And who am I kidding? If I’m honest with myself, I don’t really want to.

“Sure,” I say. “It sounds perfect.”