Daphne opened her mouth to—well, she wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to say—but at that exact moment, a knock echoed from the front door.
Then came the deep, unmistakable purr of a very British voice.
Daphne swung her attention to Granny D, who was pushing back from her seat. “Oh good, they got here in time.”
Granny D rose from her place and rushed to the entry hall.
“Oh no,” Daphne whispered and pinched her eyes shut before opening them just in time to see Nate and Jack exchange twin grins. Oh, she hated them.
“I do apologize for being late,” came the voice—hisvoice—floating down the hallway like it was being piped in from a cologne commercial. “We got a bit turned around leaving the church.”
We? What sort of magnified torture was this?
“Don’t you worry one bit, sugar,” Granny D responded. “We just got started.”
“Thank you again for the invitation,” the voice continued, drawing closer. “I’ve heard about your legendary corn bread pudding.”
Daphne resisted the urge to launch herself out the window.
She could already see him in her mind’s eye—white button-down, top button undone, dark jeans, and that ridiculous ability to make a room tilt slightly in his direction. Her retinas should be ashamed for how quickly they betrayed her carefully cultivated disinterest.
He’d practically caused a silent revolt in church that morning, sauntering down the aisle to take his seat on the fourth row next to a nearly hyperventilating Mrs. Gloria Ross and her two teenage daughters. Not one single female in church heard a word of Mrs. Rogers’s lengthy recitation of what types of food items to bring to the next fellowship dinner.
And now he washere. In Granny D’s kitchen.
“Look who’s stopped by for lunch today.” Granny D ushered Finn into the room with—what was this?—the cutest little girl at his side.
“Good afternoon.” Finn’s eyes landed on Daphne, and his mouth curled into that insufferably charming, just-on-the-edge-of-smug smile. “Miss Austen. Fancy meeting you here.”
She fully resisted making eye contact with her brother. And the preacher.
“And I’m as pleased as punch to get to meet your little darling daughter, Lucy,” Granny D continued, guiding them to chairs. “You’re just the prettiest little thing, ain’t cha?”
Daughter?
Flirty Finn was a dad?
And Lucy? One of the best names ever!
Daphne’s brain glitched for a few seconds, trying to process the updated version of this man.
The little girl blinked wide, green eyes at Granny D, seemingly caught between fascination and fear of Granny’s feathered earrings. Eventually, she edged closer to Finn’s side. Smart girl. Granny D’s hugs were like emotional flypaper—once caught, you were hers for life.
Her unconventional earrings sure provide ample warning.
Finn rested a casual hand on Lucy’s head, the protective gesture shooting a warm, confusing pang straight to Daphne’s chest.
Handsome. British. And a dad?
Lord, we are going to have a serious conversation later.
She squinted at the little girl. Had she missed her this morning? Maybe Finn had dropped her off at children’s church? Because Daphne was pretty sure she wasn’t so distracted by Mr. Winks-A-Lot to ignore such a welcome addition to Finn’s personality as a daughter!
“What did you bring that smells so good?” Granny D leaned in and then motioned toward the table.
“Shepherd’s pie.” Finn placed the dish where directed. “I was told it’s customary to bring a dish to Granny D’s famous Sunday lunch.”
His charm worked a laugh and an arm pat from Granny D before she rounded the table back to her seat. “I’m excited to try some of your cookin’ before the rest of the town gets a taste.”
