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With ten minutes to spare, she checked her messages and discovered a response from Fiona.
Fionality: A stakeout!! Oh, how exciting! Yes, we can postpone, hon. You let me know a good day, and I’ll make sure there’s a hot stack of blueberry pancakes waiting just for you. And Tiffany.
Joy burst through Jane as she went in search of Conrad, who hadn’t left the kitchen. He was shirtless and drool-worthy, his tanned muscles on display. The most adorable tattoos sleeved his arms, each image a drawing once done by his younger brother, who’d died in a car accident, along with Conrad’s mother and father.
Sweet young Conrad had spent years in the system, bouncing from home to home.
Overcome with a sudden burst of affection for him, Jane rushed over and threw her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades. He’d had a tough life, yet he wasn’t allowing his past to define him. Every day, he fought for better.
He inspired her.
“What’s this for?” he asked, sounding both amused and grateful as he kissed her knuckles. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“You’re you, and you’re wonderful and perfect, and I just wanted to hug you.” She sniff-sniffed. Did she detect… Heart racing, Jane peeked around him. She did! “You’re preparing your ultra-famous cinnamon sugar French toast.” A treat he’d only teased her with before this.
“With extra cinnamon,” he said, tossing a wink over his shoulder. When he spotted her hat, his smile widened. He turned, facing her fully, a spatula in hand. “You are adorable.”
A blush burned her cheeks. “Thank you. You are delicious.”
“You’re talking to the French toast, aren’t you?” he asked with a snort, returning his focus to the food.
“Mostly.”
He barked out a rusty but genuine laugh. Like, totally out loud. Flutters erupted in her stomach. Desperate to kiss him, she stepped closer. He must have sensed her intent, because he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes already blazing.
A hard knock sounded at the door.
Conrad groaned. “Beau, come to fetch you from my clutches?”
“Yep. But how’d you know it was him?”
He shook his head, a rueful smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I’d recognize that moment ruiner’s knock anywhere.”
With a laugh, Jane kissed his cheek, then rushed to the door, welcoming the hunky war vet inside. “Welcome to our—I mean, Conrad’s, only Conrad’s—home.” The blush returned with a vengeance. “My stay is temporary.”
Beau rolled his eyes. “You might as well tattoo his name on your bicep and buy yourself a pair of mom jeans, Janie.”
Ignore the longing consuming your entire being. “I’ll have you know I’m five seconds away from calling Sora and inviting her to stay in town for a while.”
That wiped the smile off his face in a hurry.
Jane smirked, then sashayed off. He followed her to the kitchen. “Do not call Sora, Jane. I mean it.”
“Are you saying I should text her instead?”
“Do not text her, Jane. Do not contact her in any way, shape or form.”
She pretended to be aghast. “And cage my inner matchmaker? How can you so cruelly suggest such a thing?”
Beau once spent weeks with the lovely Sora, guarding her from dangerous criminals. The pair had snipped and snapped at each other constantly, but dang if their chemistry hadn’t singed Jane’s lashes. A hot-off-the-charts secret clearly brewed between the pair. But what? Jane would love a chance to solve that particular mystery.
The men nodded a bros-rule greeting at each other.
“Don’t skimp on the butter,” Beau said, plopping down on the window seat, leaving two barstools for her and Conrad.
“Who says you get any?” Conrad asked, even as he prepared a third plate.
Beau smirked at him, mimicking Jane. “What’s with the framed campaign poster?”
This was payback for threatening his precious butter, no doubt about it.
Conrad loaded his arms with the plates, his skill something any waiter would envy. “Jane did a great job on the design. I especially like…”
Her breath caught. Even Beau went still, seeming to wait for Conrad to go for gold or chicken out. The moment of truth.
“...the font,” he finally said, and her shoulders slumped with relief. Not disappointment? No, no. Only relief.
They settled in and Jane smoothed a napkin in her lap. “By the way. We should have a campaign meeting to discuss everything that’s happened and how we’re going to spin it. Someone must oversee the health of your reputation, Conrad, and that someone is me.”
“Dr. Jane.” Conrad smiled. “You wear many hats, sweetheart. In more ways than one.”
Beau nodded with enthusiasm. “So many.”
As she preened at them, the boys dove into their meal. “Did you learn anything about the mobster?” she asked her friend, not ready to experience her first taste yet.
“Not really.” The vet finished off his French toast, paused and grunted with satisfaction. “That was actually good. I’ll have another.”
Conrad rolled his eyes before passing the plate. “That was magnificent, and you know it.”
