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“If I want a date, I’ll get myself a date.” His tone said: Bring this up again, and I’m gone.
“Oh, very well.” Jane knew when to surrender. “I’ll internet date all on my own.” She paused her knitting long enough to do a search on her phone. And yes, to tease him a little. “This app looks promising. Smash at First Sight.”
His tension intensified as he flipped up his gaze, focusing on her. “I’ll download a dating app with you, but not that one. I get to choose.”
“Deal,” she shouted before he changed his mind. As she stashed her phone and unrolled more yarn—argh! She accidentally tangled everything together. “Argh! Why does this always happen to me?”
Fiona tsk-tsked. “Remember what I taught you. Yarn only needs enough slack to work comfortably. Otherwise, it becomes—”
“A knotted mess,” Jane finished with a sigh.
“Exactly.” Her friend threaded her needles with sure, fluid motions. “Don’t let yourself get frustrated. What’s our knitter’s motto?”
“Whatever it is, it’s okay. Knit happens.” Jane pulled her needle free of the knot and laughed, because what else could she do?
A whispered curse whipped her attention to Beau. He’d dropped the laptop and scrambled to retrieve it from the floor. His breathing had quickened, and his cheeks appeared flushed.
“Are you all right?” she asked, concerned. She’d requested he stay to speak with Conrad, but what if the poor guy was coming down with a fever? That man cold was going around town.
“I’m, uh, fine.” He glanced her way, then quickly averted his gaze, returning his attention to the laptop’s screen. “The computer is fine, too. Nothing cracked. I’ll be more careful.”
Yes, but what had caused the drop in the first place?
Fiona patted her hand and whispered, “That boy needs some laughter in his world.”
Agreed. But for a start, Jane must get him to crack a smile. She missed the shy but sweet boy he’d been. The friend she’d always craved. What kind of life had he led in their years apart?
The crunch of gravel snagged her attention. A quick glance out the window revealed a dark sedan she would recognize anywhere. Special Agent Conrad Ryan had arrived.
Her pulse raced as he stepped out of the car, tucking his sunglasses into his pocket. No suit today. Instead, he wore a plain T-shirt and jeans. The casual attire looked good on him. Really good. His dark hair appeared windblown, his features stern.
Jane licked her dry lips and rushed to the front door, where she paused to smooth the wrinkles from her dress. Why, why, why did he make her so nervous? Nothing would ever happen between them, probably.
Beau stood and muttered, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to use your bathroom.” He didn’t wait for a response, but marched past her, heading down the hall. Hey, why so jumpy?
Deep breath in. Jane twisted the knob. Hinges creaked, the entrance opening, revealing Conrad as he climbed the steps. Porch light illuminated serious features.
“Welcome back,” she said with a little too much force. Blowing this. Should she offer to show him the alleged murder weapon or wait for his go-ahead? What kind of hat went with a Tada moment? Here’s your bloodied crowbar.
He nodded to Jane as he entered the house, the intoxicating scent of cedar and spice making her head fog. But he promptly ignored her. “Good afternoon, Fiona. Nice to see you again.”
Um, where was Jane’s verbal greeting?
Rolex jumped down and sat at his feet, looking up with falsely adoring eyes. Conrad fell for it, like everyone else, and bent to pet him. Hiss. Swipe. Dart off.
Blood welled on the agent’s hand. Two punctures topping two zigging lines. He stared at the injury and smiled. For-real smiled. The amusement glittered in his dark eyes. Her heart sped up.
“Nice to see you, too, Rolex,” he called, and her chest swelled. But, um, still no greeting for Jane?
Fiona wagged her needles in Conrad’s direction. “Are you trying to charm me into whipping up my blueberry pancakes, young man? Aw. You poor thing. Your request is denied for reasons.” She humphed and got back to work. “Unless you ask real nice.”
“Ask real nice,” Jane blurted out. “Please, Conrad.” She pressed her hands together, creating a steeple. “There’s always time for pancakes.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m on the clock.”
Noooooo! Why did the universe hate her?
Once again, Fiona looked at Conrad as if he were a disappointment. This time, he noticed.
To lessen the sting of his refusal, he winked at the older woman, and, oh, did he give good wink. “What are you making?”
“They’re called funny bunnies.” Fiona humphed before showing him the perfect white rabbit she’d created in record time. “We donate them to different charities for children. Places that help kids who’ve lost everything. This might be the only toy the little darlings have for a while.”
