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He listened intently, as if dissecting each word as it escaped. “Con and I spent a couple years in the same foster facility. A place for troubled boys.” He used air quotes. Though his tone said no big deal, his dark eyes told a different story. “We kinda took care of each other back then. We still do, I guess.” He smiled, sheepish, but sobered fast. “He’s had a rough life, and he deserves only good things.”
There was a warning in his expression. And perhaps a plea.
Her heart squeezed as she imagined Conrad moving from home to home, forced to start over again and again. Jane, at least, had some constants. The adoration of her grandparents and Fiona. The Garden. Centuries-long traditions.
“I know he deserves good things,” she offered quietly. Only, she could not be part of those good things long term. But how could she explain the Ladling Curse to him and make him understand? In the end, she wouldn’t be the one to do the hurting—Conrad would. The moment she fell head over heels for him...Bam! Disaster. He’d be off faster than a hot knife through butter.
Doomed.
“So,” Wyatt said, as if sensing the direction of her thoughts. “Are you in love with Conrad or not?”
What the—What? She cleared her throat. Better to be honest with him and manage expectations. “Oh. Um. Romantically speaking, my heart is a cold, hard machine filled with wires. And, well, we barely know each other. I mean, we know each other. But we also don’t know each other.”
Conrad’s brother laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back slightly, acting as if he reclined in a chair. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
Hmm. Wyatt certainly knew how to reach the marrow of the matter. She cut a glance toward the room where Conrad had taken his call. No sign of him.
With zero help coming from the missing agent, Jane went on the offensive. “Why would you think I’m in love with him?”
“Three reasons.” Wyatt raised a hand and extended one finger, then the other, saying, “That dress, and the casserole.”
Jane squirmed in her seat. Was she that obvious? And no, that was not an admission. “This is an apology dress, nothing more. And yes, that’s a thing. No need to look it up,” she said, attempting to sound cool and casual. “So what’s the third reason? You only mentioned two.”
He shrugged. “Every woman falls for him.”
“Every woman?” Her spine stiffened. How many had loved and lost Conrad? Am I about to join their number? She’d worried him again. Forced him to use his credentials to bust her free of the slammer. Visited without an invitation.
“Right?” Wyatt spread his arms, oblivious to her growing panic. “Especially when I’m nearby.”
Conrad returned to the living room only seconds later, and her hands curled into fists. He paused when he spotted her on the couch and did a double take.
“Why are you glaring at me like that?” he asked with a wrinkled brow.
“No reason.” She rose to her feet. This whole day had been a mistake. The curse was really showing off—ruining everything before anything had a chance to truly begin.
“Why are you leaving? You just got here,” he said, chasing after her to the door.
She reached for the handle, ready to escape, but he caught up to her and with his chest pressed against her back, he covered her hand with his. The warmth of his touch jolted her.
“Jane,” he prompted.
“I should go.” After today’s awkwardness, she owed herself a nice long soak in the tub and a two-hour cuddle session with Rolex. “I’d only come to drop off the casserole and say thank you for springing me from prison.” Grandma Lily always said gratitude was best expressed with food.
“Jail,” he corrected once again. “You sure you came for no other reason?”
He sounded as if he knew a secret she didn’t. Thankful he couldn’t see her face, she hurried to think of another excuse, just in case. “Yes. I, uh, came to remind you about our dinner with Tiffany and Jake. It’s tomorrow. In case you’d forgotten.”
He chuckled, a rumbly sound from deep in his chest that made her toes curl in her shoes. When a round of shivers kicked off, rocking her against him, she turned the doorknob, ready to bolt again. But he held her hand steady, his warm breath fanning her nape.
“Forget an evening I have been greatly anticipating?” His voice was low and husky. “No.”
She relaxed her grip on the knob, then turned to face him, remaining within the circle of his arms. “Did you say greatly anticipating?” And mean it? He wasn’t dreading being trapped inside a strange home with two strangers, one or both of whom might be a murderer? He looked forward to spending more time with her?
He gave her that ridiculously charming lopsided grin. “This will be our first official date, sweetheart. But more importantly, you have reminded me on four separate occasions, which is defined as pleading in my Jane 101 handbook. So yes, I said greatly anticipating.”
