Rules of Contact
Page 79
After, he tucked her head against his shoulder and held her, feeling like the luckiest damn man in the world.
“You’ll come to the ranch for Christmas, won’t you?” he asked as he stroked her back.
“Oh, God, yes. I love your family, Flynn. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. And you’ll come back to work at Ninety-Two, won’t you?”
She paused for a few seconds before answering. “If you want me to. I’m sure Stefanie is doing a great job.”
“She is, but she’d really like you back. She said she needs a couple more years of training before she’s ready to be a head chef.”
Amelia leaned back to look at him. “She’s very good.”
“Yeah, she is. You’re better. And speaking of you being the best chef ever, you really don’t want your own television show?”
She stabbed at his chest with her fingernail. “No. Not now. Not ever. TV is not my thing, Flynn.”
“Ow. Okay. Got it. No TV. Not now. Not ever.”
“In fact, the next time a film crew comes, I’m taking the day off.”
He nodded, willing to give her anything as long as she was happy. “Got it. You’re in charge.”
“I am?” She pushed him onto his back and rolled over on top of him. “Good to know.”
“What about dinner?”
“It’s on slow simmer.”
He grasped her hips and lifted against her. “Oh, good. Then let’s move things in here to a full boil.”
She smiled down at him. “See what a good match we are, Mr. Cassidy?”
“Damn near perfect, Ms. Lawrence.”
TURN THE PAGE TO READ A SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM THE LATEST HOPE NOVEL BY JACI BURTON
DON’T LET GO
AVAILABLE NOW FROM JOVE
ONE
Brady Conners was doing one of the things he enjoyed the most—smoothing out dents in a quarter panel of a Chevy. As soon as he finished, he’d paint, and this baby would be good as new. It wasn’t his dream job. He was working toward that. But with every day he spent as a mechanic at Richards Auto Service, thanks to the shop’s owner, Carter Richards, he was pocketing money. And that got him closer to his dream—opening up his own custom motorcycle paint shop.
Somewhere. Maybe here in Hope. Maybe somewhere else. Probably somewhere else, because the town of Hope held memories.
Not good ones.
A long time ago—a time that seemed like an eternity now—he’d had plans with his brother, Kurt, to start up a business together.
That dream went up in smoke the day Brady got the call that his brother was dead.
He paused, stood, and stretched out the kinks in his back, wiping the sweat that dripped into his eyes. Needing a break, he pulled off his breathing mask and swiped his fingers through his hair. He took a step away and grabbed the water bottle he always kept stored nearby. He took a long drink from the straw, swallowing several times until his thirst was quenched, then stepped outside.
It was late spring, and rain was threatening. He dragged in a deep breath, enjoying the smell of fresh air.
He really wanted a cigarette, but he’d quit a little over a year ago. Not that the urge had gone away. Probably never would. But he was stronger than his own needs. Or at least that’s what he told himself every time a powerful craving hit.
Instead, he pulled out one of the flavored toothpicks he always kept in his jeans pocket and slid that between his teeth.
Not nearly as satisfying, but it would do. It would have to.
He leaned against the wall outside the shop and watched the town in motion. It was lunchtime, so it was busy.
Luke McCormack, one of Hope’s cops, drove by in his patrol car and waved. Brady waved back. Luke was a friend of Carter’s, and while Brady wasn’t as social as a lot of the guys he’d met, he knew enough to be friendly. Especially to cops.
Samantha Reasor left her shop, loading up her flower van with a bunch of colorful bouquets. She spotted him, giving him a bright smile and a wave before she headed off.
Everyone in this town was friendly. He mostly kept to himself, did his work, and then went home to the small apartment above the shop at night to watch TV or play video games. Some nights he did side work painting bikes. He had one goal in mind, and that was to save enough money to open his business. He saw his parents now and again, since they lived in Hope, but the strain of Kurt’s death had taken a toll on them.
Nothing was the same anymore. With them. With him, either, he supposed.
Sometimes life just sucked. And you dealt with that.
His stomach grumbled. He needed something to eat. He pushed off the wall and headed up the street, intending to hit the sandwich joint on the corner. He’d grab something and bring it back to the shop.
He stopped suddenly when Megan Lee, the hot brunette who owned the bakery, dashed out with a couple of pink boxes in her hand. She collided with him, and the boxes went flying. She caught one, he caught one, and then he steadied her by sliding his arm around her.
She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide with surprise.
“Oh my gosh. Thank you, Brady. I almost dropped these.”
“You okay, Megan?”
“Yes. But let me check these.” She opened the boxes. There were cakes inside. They looked pretty, with pink icing on one and blue on the other and little baby figurines in strollers sitting on top of the cakes. There were flowers and other doodads as well. He didn’t know all that much about cake decorations. He just liked the way they tasted.
“They’re for Sabelle Frasier. She just had twins.” She looked up at him with a grin. “A boy and a girl. Her mom ordered these for her hospital homecoming. I spent all morning baking and decorating them.”
He didn’t need to know that, but the one thing he did know was that people in this town were social and liked to talk. “They look good.”
She swiped her hair out of her eyes. “Of course they’re good.”
He took the boxes from her. “Where’s your car?”
“Parked just down the street.”
“How about you let me carry these? Just in case you want to run into anyone else on your way.”
Her lips curved. “I think you ran into me.”
He disagreed, but whatever. He figured he’d do his good deed for the day, then get his sandwich.
He followed her down the street.
“You’ll come to the ranch for Christmas, won’t you?” he asked as he stroked her back.
“Oh, God, yes. I love your family, Flynn. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good. And you’ll come back to work at Ninety-Two, won’t you?”
She paused for a few seconds before answering. “If you want me to. I’m sure Stefanie is doing a great job.”
“She is, but she’d really like you back. She said she needs a couple more years of training before she’s ready to be a head chef.”
Amelia leaned back to look at him. “She’s very good.”
“Yeah, she is. You’re better. And speaking of you being the best chef ever, you really don’t want your own television show?”
She stabbed at his chest with her fingernail. “No. Not now. Not ever. TV is not my thing, Flynn.”
“Ow. Okay. Got it. No TV. Not now. Not ever.”
“In fact, the next time a film crew comes, I’m taking the day off.”
He nodded, willing to give her anything as long as she was happy. “Got it. You’re in charge.”
“I am?” She pushed him onto his back and rolled over on top of him. “Good to know.”
“What about dinner?”
“It’s on slow simmer.”
He grasped her hips and lifted against her. “Oh, good. Then let’s move things in here to a full boil.”
She smiled down at him. “See what a good match we are, Mr. Cassidy?”
“Damn near perfect, Ms. Lawrence.”
TURN THE PAGE TO READ A SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM THE LATEST HOPE NOVEL BY JACI BURTON
DON’T LET GO
AVAILABLE NOW FROM JOVE
ONE
Brady Conners was doing one of the things he enjoyed the most—smoothing out dents in a quarter panel of a Chevy. As soon as he finished, he’d paint, and this baby would be good as new. It wasn’t his dream job. He was working toward that. But with every day he spent as a mechanic at Richards Auto Service, thanks to the shop’s owner, Carter Richards, he was pocketing money. And that got him closer to his dream—opening up his own custom motorcycle paint shop.
Somewhere. Maybe here in Hope. Maybe somewhere else. Probably somewhere else, because the town of Hope held memories.
Not good ones.
A long time ago—a time that seemed like an eternity now—he’d had plans with his brother, Kurt, to start up a business together.
That dream went up in smoke the day Brady got the call that his brother was dead.
He paused, stood, and stretched out the kinks in his back, wiping the sweat that dripped into his eyes. Needing a break, he pulled off his breathing mask and swiped his fingers through his hair. He took a step away and grabbed the water bottle he always kept stored nearby. He took a long drink from the straw, swallowing several times until his thirst was quenched, then stepped outside.
It was late spring, and rain was threatening. He dragged in a deep breath, enjoying the smell of fresh air.
He really wanted a cigarette, but he’d quit a little over a year ago. Not that the urge had gone away. Probably never would. But he was stronger than his own needs. Or at least that’s what he told himself every time a powerful craving hit.
Instead, he pulled out one of the flavored toothpicks he always kept in his jeans pocket and slid that between his teeth.
Not nearly as satisfying, but it would do. It would have to.
He leaned against the wall outside the shop and watched the town in motion. It was lunchtime, so it was busy.
Luke McCormack, one of Hope’s cops, drove by in his patrol car and waved. Brady waved back. Luke was a friend of Carter’s, and while Brady wasn’t as social as a lot of the guys he’d met, he knew enough to be friendly. Especially to cops.
Samantha Reasor left her shop, loading up her flower van with a bunch of colorful bouquets. She spotted him, giving him a bright smile and a wave before she headed off.
Everyone in this town was friendly. He mostly kept to himself, did his work, and then went home to the small apartment above the shop at night to watch TV or play video games. Some nights he did side work painting bikes. He had one goal in mind, and that was to save enough money to open his business. He saw his parents now and again, since they lived in Hope, but the strain of Kurt’s death had taken a toll on them.
Nothing was the same anymore. With them. With him, either, he supposed.
Sometimes life just sucked. And you dealt with that.
His stomach grumbled. He needed something to eat. He pushed off the wall and headed up the street, intending to hit the sandwich joint on the corner. He’d grab something and bring it back to the shop.
He stopped suddenly when Megan Lee, the hot brunette who owned the bakery, dashed out with a couple of pink boxes in her hand. She collided with him, and the boxes went flying. She caught one, he caught one, and then he steadied her by sliding his arm around her.
She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide with surprise.
“Oh my gosh. Thank you, Brady. I almost dropped these.”
“You okay, Megan?”
“Yes. But let me check these.” She opened the boxes. There were cakes inside. They looked pretty, with pink icing on one and blue on the other and little baby figurines in strollers sitting on top of the cakes. There were flowers and other doodads as well. He didn’t know all that much about cake decorations. He just liked the way they tasted.
“They’re for Sabelle Frasier. She just had twins.” She looked up at him with a grin. “A boy and a girl. Her mom ordered these for her hospital homecoming. I spent all morning baking and decorating them.”
He didn’t need to know that, but the one thing he did know was that people in this town were social and liked to talk. “They look good.”
She swiped her hair out of her eyes. “Of course they’re good.”
He took the boxes from her. “Where’s your car?”
“Parked just down the street.”
“How about you let me carry these? Just in case you want to run into anyone else on your way.”
Her lips curved. “I think you ran into me.”
He disagreed, but whatever. He figured he’d do his good deed for the day, then get his sandwich.
He followed her down the street.
