Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51995 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“When requested.” Determination roughened Harden’s tone. He wiped the moisture from his brow. “And when needed.”
Warning received. The rival was here to stay, in one capacity or another, and he expected Conrad to tuck tail and run. Too bad. He was already hooked. He’d tasted of peace, and he was determined to experience more.
“That is magnanimous of you.” A truthful statement no lawyer could use against him.
“Isn’t it?” Beau asked.
A hiss sounded between them. Jane jumped up and rushed over, shouldering her way between them and the cat.
“Like I was saying,” she kind of shouted, “Beau was with me when I spotted the crowbar. I asked him to stick around in case you needed a statement.”
He knew Jane had given a statement to Sheriff Moore over the phone. The sheriff had told him all about it. Well, not all. The man had failed to mention a companion. “Just need your current address for now.” He withdrew a notebook while Beau rattled off the details. “A statement won’t be necessary at this time, Mr. Harden. You are free to leave.”
Shoulders rolling in, Jane cried, “I’m sorry I wasted your time, Beau. Please add every second to my bill.”
He glanced at Conrad, sending a very clear message. He’d be back. “No problem.” The guy approached the couch and hefted a tool bag over his shoulder, then strode to the door, exiting without another word.
Conrad watched Jane as she smiled and waved at her friend. No expanding pupils. No blushes. No romantic interest in the other man? One could hope. “Why don’t you take me to the weapon?”
She brightened further, as if thrilled to contribute to the case. “Yes, of course. I’ll just be a moment.”
“A hat?” Please be a hat.
Sassy sweet, she hiked a shoulder, saying, “What can I say? I protect my skin in style.” Then she dashed off, and he chuckled.
“Not the purple one. Or the black,” Fiona called. “To be safe, pick none of them.”
Ahhh, so there were many other hats. “What do you not like about the headgear?”
“Everything.” Demeanor growing serious, the older woman rolled to her feet and hastened him to the porch. As soon as the door closed, she whispered fiercely, “Let me give you a piece of advice, young man. Figure out what you want before you approach the dessert table. That little cinnamon roll you’re devouring with your gaze has raisins. If you aren’t willing to put in the work and dig them out, you’re unworthy of enjoying such a fine dining experience.”
He…had no idea how to respond to that. “Raisins are bad in this analogy?
She snorted. “Raisins are bad in any analogy, sugar. Keep up.”
Okay, so raisins were…what? Hidden hurts? “Why can’t I stare through the window of the shop until I’m ready to make a purchase?”
“I think we both know the answer to that. Another customer will swoop in and grab your dessert.”
He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Yeah, he could guess the identity of this other customer. “If I lick the cinnamon roll, is it mine?”
She wagged her finger toward his face, her dark eyes fierce. “Now you listen up. If you make her cry, I will use my knitting needles to unman you, understand?”
“If I make her cry,” he told her with a flat tone, “I’ll deserve it.”
“Well then.” A new smile bloomed, the animosity seeping from the older woman. “That’s comforting to hear. Comforting indeed. You might be the right patron for the job, after all.”
Footsteps reached his ears. Must have reached Fiona’s too. They both went silent. Seconds later, hinges squeaked.
“I’m ready.” Jane stepped outside, drawing his gaze.
The hat. Wow. Bigger than the last one, and the same yellow as her dress, with strings hanging from ragged edges. How absolutely perfect.
“Please.” He motioned toward the cemetery, eager to get her alone. “Lead the way.”
As they headed off, Fiona called, “Don’t forget what I told you, agent.”
As if he would ever look at cinnamon rolls or raisins the same way again.
“What did she tell you?” Jane squeaked with wide eyes.
Worried he’d learned something she didn’t want him to know? He tried to put her at ease without giving away anything vital. “Several things. The most memorable is the threat to castrate me if ever I’m mean to you.”
“Awww.” She pressed her hand over her heart. “How sweet is she?”
“The sweetest,” he told her, his tone dry, and Jane laughed. Amusement lit her entire face, stealing his breath. Before the day ended, he must hear that tinkling sound again. “She also offered me a bit of advice.”
“And?” she prompted.
He boiled the conversation down in a nutshell. “Vague idea, vague results.” Know what you want and fight for it or lose by default.
Confusion contorted Jane’s delicate features. “What does that mean? Vague idea regarding what?”
“What I want.” Or rather, who he wanted.