“Can’t say that I know her well enough to like her or not. I did find her intriguing.”
“Did you ask her out?”
“Bro. Our mama taught us that rule one with the ladies is to go slow. Be polite, talk with them, listen to what they have to say. Flirt a little. See if they flirt back. Then, maybe you ask them out.” He threw Dillon a disparaging look. “How did you ever land a great gal like Tessa if you don’t even know rule number one about women?”
“Sheer dumb luck, I guess.”
“Emphasis on dumb,” Reno muttered.
Dillon retorted, “I don’t see you with a beautiful, amazing fiancée and a great daughter-to-be who both make you so happy you could bust.”
“Lord save me from my besotted brother.”
Dillon grinned. “You wait. Some woman’s gonna come along and knock you flat on your butt. I just hope I’m around to see it so I can say I told you so.”
Reno snorted. “Not me.”
Nope, he wasn’t wired for things like love and romance. His brain worked in complex logic chains and thought in carefully constructed arguments. When a sappy love song came on the radio, he never made it more than a few lines in before he rolled his eyes and changed the station. Feelings and emotions were weaknesses other people indulged in. They were not his jam. At all.
They sat there in silence, the way the Steele men sat with most big things, while the sun went the rest of the way down.
That night, as Reno lay in bed not sleeping at one AM.—he really shouldn’t have napped all afternoon if he wanted to sleep tonight—he told himself sternly that he wasn’t going to drive back to the bakery at the crack of dawn in the morning.
He told himself the same thing again at two AM., and again at four, and again at six when he took his coffee out to the porch and watched the sun rise.
By seven he was in his truck and headed for town. He couldn’t stand the worry of not knowing if something else creepy had happened to Grace or her bakery overnight.
The cinnamon roll bag he’d come home with the day before was empty. Dillon had stolen his cinnamon roll and snarfed it for himself. He needed a replacement cinnamon roll for himself. That was the best cover story he could come up with in the ten-minute drive to town. It would have to do.
Buns ’N’ Roses smelled like yeast, sugar, and coffee when he stepped inside. Several people were waiting groggily in line to order, all of them obviously pre-caffeinated. The bouquet of yellow tulips in a cut crystal vase on the counter was new. He liked the variety of yellows, creamy butter to lemon, to a brilliant golden yellow.
Grace looked up from the espresso machine as the bell rang over his head. He saw her go still for just an instant when she caught sight of him. She looked back down quickly at the drink she was making, but her cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.
With a small smile, he went to the back of the line. Nobody in front of him felt like talking this early, and they took their pastries and coffees and left the bakery quickly. For the moment, it was just the two of them in the shop.
“Good morning, Mr. Steele.”
“Morning, Mrs. O’Donnell.”
Obviously, they’d each remembered or learned the other one’s name since yesterday.
“This makes two days in a row,” she said with a smile. “A few more days of coming here and you’ll qualify as a regular.”
The bell rang behind him as someone else walked in.
“How were things around here overnight?” he asked pleasantly while he shot her a more serious look.
She understood his meaning and set down the cloth she’d been wiping the espresso machine’s steamer wand with. “Quiet. No surprises. I’m pleased to report that there are no rogue herbs or rebel spices of any kind in Cobbler Cove this morning. Mary opened up with me at four-thirty and we’re working the morning rush together.”
He let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That’s good,” he said in relief. “Very good.”
“Is it?”
“It is.” He lowered his voice so the person behind him wouldn’t hear him. “Thank you for not coming in alone.”
She studied him for a moment. “Did you drive all the way into town on a knee that I gather you’re not supposed to be walking on, let alone driving with, to make sure I didn’t open up alone this morning?”
“I don’t need my left knee to drive, so it’s not impacting my ability to drive. And I came into town on a knee that I am allowed, even encouraged, to walk on for a cinnamon roll. The making-sure you weren’t alone this morning part was purely a side quest.”
