A hint of a smile. “No chance of that. I had bacon and eggs for breakfast.”
Maureen scowled. “And left over more than half of it. Lovey…” She stroked Kennedy’s head. “You must eat. For my sake, if not for yours.”
Kennedy gave a reluctant nod. “Okay, I will.”
“You sure will—but not too much,” Ryan stipulated. “Don’t forget our upcoming contest. After lunch, we’ll be heading over to the Old Ice Cream Shop.”
“Where I’ll humiliate you,” Kennedy fired back.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Ryan—you’re a bad influence,” Maureen retorted, gesturing for them to take their seats at the table. “Time for a good meal. Hot potato soup. It’ll stick to your ribs and warm your insides enough to brace you for mounds of ice cream.”
Kennedy and Ryan caught the twinkle in her eye, and they both laughed, heading for the table while Maureen hurried into the kitchen to dole out the portions of soup.
While they ate, Ryan and Kennedy continued their bantering, even though he could feel the tension emanating from her—a tension that exploded when the doorbell rang.
“Is that Agent Barkley?” she asked, nearly leaping out of her seat and running off. “Do you think he’s here early?”
Ryan shook his head, then rose, heading for the front door. “That’s not the FBI’s style,” he reassured her. “More likely, it’s the postal carrier with something that wouldn’t fit in the mailbox. I’ll check.”
Mentally, he crossed his fingers, and went to find out.
Sheer relief flowed through him when he opened the door. A brightly decorated van was in the driveway, motor running, and a lanky teenage boy stood on the front step. As soon as Ryan appeared in the doorway, the kid held out a pastry-sized box.
“Ryan McKay?” he asked.
“That’s me.” Ryan dug in his pocket. “How much do I owe you?” As he pulled out the requisite cash plus a generous tip, he noted that the box looked larger than expected. But most important, there was a small white card-sized envelope tucked in the red and white wrapping strings.
Heart racing, Ryan thanked the kid and pocketed the card—which he’d read later—before turning to shut the door behind him and carrying in the box.
Kennedy’s expression turned from frightened to curious. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.” Ryan winked at his mother as if she knew exactly what the delivery was, despite the fact that he was aware she was clueless. “Let’s take a look.”
Kennedy caught Ryan’s wink. “Is it a surprise?” she asked. She watched as he cut the strings and opened the box.
Inside were three pastries: a huge Guinness brownie, which was Ryan’s sweet-tooth downfall; a sugar-drizzled cream puff, which he recognized as his mother’s dessert of choice; and an enormous chocolate chip cookie, Kennedy’s most cherished snack.
Bless you, Caitlin, Ryan thought. You thought of everything.
Kennedy was squealing and snatching the cookie from the box. “Thank you, Aunt Maureen!” she exclaimed, hugging her aunt before rushing back to her chair. “How did you remember how much I love these, especially when they’re straight from the bakery all warm and gooey?”
Ryan shot his mom a purposeful look—one she acted on right away.
“I’m like an elephant,” she replied to Kennedy, playing her part to perfection. “I never forget.” Her brows knit. “But I didn’t expect these to arrive until late this afternoon.”
“That’s okay, Mom,” Ryan said. “There’s no time like the present.”
“Not this time.” His mother folded her arms across her breasts. “Not until every bit of lunch is gone.”
Kennedy shifted impatiently in her seat and Ryan’s lips twitched.
“We’d better listen, sunshine,” he advised Kennedy. “Besides, we don’t have a leg to stand on since we’re having two desserts this afternoon.”
“Correction: one and a half,” Maureen countered. “It’s the rest of lunch and then half a cookie. If you still have room after your ice cream fiesta, you can eat the other half after dinner.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a command.
