Finn cleared his throat. “Evidently another child said something particularly nasty to Lucy on the bus and Daphne is smoothing things over.”
“Sounds like her.”
Finn glanced at the pizza box. “Is this why you’re never available Thursday evenings? Pizza night?”
“It’s tradition,” Jack said, grinning. “Thursday night engagement and wedding photo shoots, followed by Austen Gang Game Night. It’s sacred.”
Austen Gang? Game night? The two of them? Finn might as well have walked into a cozy sit-com. And he kept liking it more than was good for his mental health.
Or... perhaps it was exactly what his mental health needed?
“Can I have another cookie?” Lucy’s voice brought his attention back to the little scene in front of him, a new lightness in his chest.
“Just one more, but don’t tell your daddy. It’ll ruin your supper, and he’ll get fussy with me.”
Finn shot Jack a grin and stepped into view. “Fussy with you, my dear Miss Austen? You wound me.”
“Daddy!” Lucy launched at him, and he caught her with ease, swinging her onto his hip and kissing her cheek.
“Hello, lamb. Have you had a proper chin-wag with Miss Daphne?”
Jack rounded the corner into the room next and set the pizza on the table as Daphne rolled her eyes and stood, hand on her hip, holding a cookie like a gavel. “Jack brought you to game night? Desperate times—he must need help reevaluating his tragic Uno strategy.”
“You wish,” Jack shot back.
Finn stepped closer to Daphne, lowering his voice. “I was only just able to get away. Thank you.”
She looked at him longer than she needed to, something searching in her eyes. Maybe she noticed the red-rimmed edges of his. Maybe she saw more.
“So,” she said finally, “how long were you eavesdropping?”
“Long enough to know you’re a wonder.”
Then she shrugged and winked. “Only when it comes to little girls and baked goods.”
She winked. His grin bloomed into something ridiculous. She was beautiful, tenderhearted, authentic,andfun? How had he dismissed all of those qualities before when all he could see was his own fear?
He shifted Lucy to the floor, and she skipped over to Jack. Which meant—blessedly—Finn could take one step closer.
“It seems we owe Miss Austen another debt,” he said, meeting Daphne’s gaze. “That’s, what, rescue number three? Should I just go ahead and relinquish my car keys in gratitude?”
“Your car?” Her whole face perked up like a kid who’d been promised a pony. Then she caught herself, reined it in with a casual shrug. “Sure. That sounds... great.”
He couldn’t stop staring. Seeing her in new ways. Trying to regain some semblance of balance. “What if we check both our schedules and make a... date of it?”
Her smile faltered. Her posture shifted. And the wariness returned like a curtain being drawn across a window. Argh. He hated he’d left that impression on her heart.
“I’m all for gratitude,” she said slowly. “But what’s the catch?”
“No catch.” He held her gaze. “And maybe a realization that I’ve been blind to the value of some of the people in my life.”
She tilted her head, studying him. Her chest rose and fell a little faster.
Did she hear it? The truth tucked between the lines?
“Okay, you two are getting a little too gross for me to enjoy my pizza.” Jack plopped a slice onto a plate and handed it to Lucy with a grin—no need to ask Finn’s permission anymore. Over the past week of working together at the restaurant, Jack and Lucy had become a bit of a dynamic duo. She adored him. He made her feel important. Gave her little jobs, lavished her with dramatic praise.
Finn glanced at Daphne.
