Ready to Run (I Do, I Don't 1)

“Hey, I come by at least once a week on Bill’s day off to say hi!” his sister said, punching his arm.

“Sure, but you never agree to grate the cheese,” he said, picking up a piece of bacon—not the turkey kind—and devouring it in two bites as he pulled a carton of OJ out of the fridge. “What’s up?”

“I think you should do it. The show,” Tawny announced.

Luke couldn’t withhold the wince. His own sister wanted him to sell out? “Jesus, Tawny.”

“Just hear me out,” she said in a rush. “It’s not for the spectacle of it, although for the record, how cool would it be?”

He gave her a warning look, and she held up an appeasing hand, her eyes darting to the door as the sound of hungry male voices came closer. “I think it’d be good for you. You haven’t been the same since Eva—”

“No,” he interrupted, voice curt, even for him. His sister knew full well that while he was pretty easygoing talking about his first two failed weddings, the third was off-limits.

“Will you at least talk to the New York girl?”

“Have you even met her? She’s a complete pain in the ass. She’d step on anyone and anything to get what she wants.”

The door shoved open, Charlie first, as he generally was. Luke’s friend made a beeline for Tawny, scooping her up and hugging her as though he hadn’t seen her in months and wasn’t likely to run into her at the grocery store or the gas station or Tucker’s any day of the week.

“Why’s he so grumpy?” Charlie asked, grabbing a plate and jerking his chin toward Luke.

“I’m not grumpy.”

“You look grumpy,” said Hank, one of the older firefighters, setting a handful of bacon between two pieces of toast and taking an enormous bite.

“Well, shit, I am now,” Luke mumbled into his coffee.

“Heard the hot New Yorker is staying awhile,” Ryan said, strolling in and giving Tawny a kiss on the cheek.

“She won’t last through the end of the week,” Luke said, picking up a plate and spooning a pile of the eggs onto it.

“How do you figure?” Charlie asked, dropping into his chair and picking up a fork.

Because I’ll lose my mind if she doesn’t leave by then, that’s how I fucking figure.

Chapter 7

Simon twirled into Jordan’s room.

Literally twirled. Arms out, spinning in a wide circle before flopping down on the newly delivered bed with a happy sigh.

“I fell in love today,” he proclaimed, linking his hands together and laying them across his flat stomach.

“Oh yeah?” she asked, hanging up a cream blouse and putting it into the closet. “You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror again?”

He rolled onto his stomach. “His name is Dale. He owns this adorable little bakery.”

“Thought you said you were giving up carbs,” Jordan said, deciding she was bored of unpacking and, going to the bed, shoving him over so she could belly flop beside him.

“I’ve decided this guy would be worth the paunch,” he said with a waggle of man-groomed eyebrows.

“Uh-huh. Did Dean call you back?”

Simon gave a defeated sigh. “Yes. The boss needs me in the office on Friday, but he agreed that I might be needed to talk to the locals while you work your magic, so I’ll be back.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s all about helping me land our guy and nothing to do with your baker.”

He grinned. “The way I see it, this will give you plenty of time to figure out my baker’s romantic inclinations.”