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“Of course,” she mocked.
“Toast with honey, coffee and—”
“And this!” Snatching a pillow that had fallen to the floor, she hurled it across the room and smack into Denver’s chest. Before he could exact any retribution, she slipped into the hall. “Fresh grapefruit!” she repeated, laughing as she clambered down the stairs. “You wish!” She knew her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling outrageously as she entered the kitchen, but she didn’t care. Though she half expected her father to be seated at the table with the newspaper spread in front of him, she squared her shoulders.
Luckily no one had arrived yet. She managed to put on the coffee, snap some toast into the toaster and melt butter in the frying pan by the time Denver sauntered down the stairs.
“I guess I should’ve waited,” he said, standing behind her and slipping his arms around her waist.
“For what?”
“To be served, of course.”
She cracked an egg in the pan and grinned. “And you would’ve waited till hell freezes over.”
Chuckling, he drew her close, his hands familiar and warm as they spread across her denim-draped abdomen. “I suppose I would have.”
“Right!” Dear God, she sounded as breathless as a sultry summer night. “Unless you have something better to do, you can pour the coffee and butter the toast.”
“I do have something better to do.” He kissed her throat and ear. “Something much more important.”
Her chest constricted. “I think it’ll wait.”
“Slave driver,” he grumbled, but unwillingly released her to search in the cupboard for coffee cups.
“Second shelf,” she said, catching his glance. In that one heart-stopping moment, she read the love deep in his eyes.
“Thanks.”
Swallowing a thick lump forming in her throat, she turned back to the bacon sizzling noisily in the skillet.
They were just finishing the meal when Milly walked in, her arms laden with two sacks of groceries. “You found somethin’ to eat, did ya?” she asked, glancing at the table.
“Plenty,” Denver replied.
Tessa helped Milly unload the sacks. “By the way,” Milly said, stacking two loaves of bread in the bread box, “that attorney called yesterday afternoon.”
Denver’s head snapped up. “Ross Anderson?”
Milly nodded. “He said that he was sure they’d found your brother.”
Tessa’s heart nearly stopped. “Colton?”
“Where?” Denver asked.
Milly shrugged. “Said you knew about it.”
Dumbfounded, Tessa stared at Denver. Why hadn’t he mentioned that Colton had been located?
“I knew some private investigator thought he might have found Colton in Northern Ireland. But since I hadn’t heard anything in days, I figured he was wrong.”
“Doesn’t seem that way,” Milly said, glancing from Tessa to Denver and back again. “He said he’d call back tomorrow. He’s in court today.”
“Great,” Denver grumbled, his countenance changing. “Did he say if Colton was returning?”
“Nope. That was it.”
The phone jangled, and Milly answered it, then handed the receiver to Tessa. “Nate Edwards.”
