The kitchen was larger than she would have expected for a single man. Though its floor plan wasn’t open to the rest of the space, it was roomy and welcoming in its own right, with a table tucked against the window, and a wide counter covered in granite.
Jordan ran a hand over the smooth surface before leaning on her elbows, as she watched him pull down two mugs from a cabinet.
He froze when he turned and saw her holding his cat. “Seriously, Luna? Traitor much??
?
Jordan bit her lip to hide the smile. “You have a small white cat named Luna and a big friendly golden retriever named Winston. You do understand why I at least have to try to recruit you, right? It’s too much.”
He merely pointed at the cat. “She barely lets me pet her, even though I rescued the homeless wench from a fire.”
Jordan went still. “Please tell me you’re joking. You saved Luna from a fire? And then kept her?”
He shrugged as though it were no big deal. “You wouldn’t know it from the way she treats me.”
“What happened to her owners?”
“They moved into an apartment a few towns over after their house burned down. No pets allowed.”
“And you took her home,” Jordan mused, stroking the purring cat.
“Oh, shut up,” he muttered, opening a back door toward a garage. “Hold on, have to grab the extra bag of coffee beans from my truck.”
“Not gonna lie,” Jordan said, when he came back in. “I sort of had you pegged as an instant-coffee kind of guy, although the truck’s spot-on with expectations.”
He shrugged at her comment, running a hand over hair that was too short to really get properly mussed by the hat. “One of the side effects of nearly being married three times to three coffee snobs. It rubs off on you.”
She widened her eyes in mock surprise. “Are you actually discussing the events with…the enemy?”
“Figure you might as well hear it from me,” he said. “Wouldn’t put it past my blushing former brides to embellish for the sake of a good story.”
She opened her mouth to ask more, but he cut off her off. “Milk or cream?”
“Splash of milk, if you have it. And are you finally ready to tell me why you left those poor women at the altar?”
“Nah,” he said, pulling a milk carton and water filter out of the fridge. “Think I’ll just hold on to that one for a while.”
“Just to be difficult?” she guessed.
“Leverage. Information’s a valuable currency, City.”
“You know I could ask just about anyone and get an answer.”
“You’re assuming anyone else actually knows the answer. And even if they did, I didn’t see a cellphone in those tight pants,” he said, pouring them each a glass of water and downing his even before she’d reached for hers.
“A gentleman wouldn’t comment on the tight pants.”
“He would if he had the pleasure of being behind you during your run.”
“Pervert,” she muttered, but she smiled into her water glass as she said it.
The coffeepot’s happy Done! beep sounded, and he filled two mugs, handing her one and nudging the milk across the counter, along with a spoon.
She set down the cat and added milk to her cup—he took his black—and then there were a few moments of companionable silence as they enjoyed their first few sips of caffeine.
“Your home’s gorgeous. How long have you lived here?” she asked, wandering to the window and looking out at the early morning sun glinting over the lake.
“Few years. Bought the property a while back for way less than I should have. Planned to build a house, live here with Stacey. The relationship didn’t work out, but the house did.”