Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“Where, um, are we going?” she asked.
Amusement played at the corner of his mouth. He looked so confident behind the wheel of a car, so at ease. “You’ll see.”
“You seriously won’t tell me?”
“I seriously won’t.” He reached over and linked their fingers, resting their joined hands against the top of her thigh. “I know how much you enjoy mysteries.”
I will not fall for this man. At last, the reasons surged to the forefront of her mind. She had rules, remember? Very strict rules. The strictest! “Tell me another horrible fact about yourself right this second. A truth worse than the toilet paper thing if possible. Make it something sure to color my perception of you for the rest of eternity.”
“No problem.” He gave her hand a little squeeze. “I’ve been saving this one for a high danger moment. Are you sure you’re ready for it, though?”
Realizing she was clinging to him, she nodded. “Beyond ready. Horrify me.”
“Here goes.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. Wait. Did she detect a slight tremor? Her jaw went slack. What the heck did he plan to tell her? “I—nope. I won’t tell you this, either.” A shake of his head. “You think you’re ready, but you’re not.”
“Oh! You little tease!” He’d done that on purpose. “You got me all excited for nothing.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” His voice dipped. “Before the night is over, I’ll excite you again. It’s my mission.”
Jane remained dazed and breathless for the rest of the drive, still clinging to Conrad’s hand. When he stopped in the lot of a well-lit city park, she scanned the area with unsurpassed curiosity. Trees showed off an array of fall colors. A wealth of orange, red and gold. Old-fashioned streetlights mixed with small glowing bulbs lined cobblestone paths. But…why here?
“This is Loblolly Park,” he explained. “I used to picnic here with my family. Before.”
He didn’t fill in the rest, but then, he didn’t need to. Before. The time a car accident killed his parents and younger brother, sending Conrad into a succession of different foster homes and facilities.
Without thinking things through, she brought Conrad’s hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. A gesture of comfort and empathy.
She lifted her head, and he used his other hand to trace the pad of his thumb along the outline of her lips. A gasp escaped her, and she released him. He didn’t pull back. He glided his fingers over her jawline and hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. Tremors rocked her.
“C’mon.” Taking pity on her, he reached for a large wicker basket stowed in the back seat. “We’ve got a little hike ahead of us.”
A picnic? Oh, how delightful!
He exited into the moonlight, then strode around to open her car door. After helping her out, he led her along the light-lined path. Walking trails fanned off in several directions. How often had young Conrad run and laughed and played here? They passed a pavilion, a massive playground and a gorgeous two-tiered fountain. Crystal blue water poured over a basin filled with shiny coins.
“Did you ever make a wish?” she asked.
“Once or twice.”
“And what did young Conrad wish for back then, hmm?”
“The usual. Superpowers. And for no one, anywhere, to call me Connie. The name my brother used whenever he teased me.” Affection thickened his voice. “Did little Jane make any wishes?”
“She did indeed. More funerals. I loved helping Pops and Grandma Lily tend to the mourners and ensure each gravesite looked its best.”
He snickered. “That is the most Jane thing I’ve ever heard.”
They reached an open, moonlit stretch of grass, where another couple picnicked. Jane helped him spread a checkered red and white blanket, and they eased down, side by side.
The wicker creaked as he lifted the basket’s top. He pulled out a single lily, and Jane nearly teared up. A bloom meant to honor her grandmother?
“I got the food from Daisy’s,” he said, placing the flower on her lap. The backs of his knuckles grazed the bare skin above her knee, igniting a spear of fire.
Ignore your shivers. “I adore Daisy’s. There’s nothing her chicken noodle soup can’t cure.”
He winked at her. “So you’ve told me.”
Oh yes. Soon after they’d first met, Jane had contracted the world’s worst cold. In a medicated haze, she’d called the special agent dozens of times, saying the most humiliating things and begging for Daisy’s no-fail elixir.
Next, he withdrew two wrapped sandwiches. Daisy’s famous chicken salad on freshly baked sweet bread. Jane could almost taste the vine-ripened tomatoes. Wait. She sniffed the air. Did she detect the salty aroma of chips?
Her jaw dropped. “You didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?” he asked, puzzled.
“You snagged Daisy’s artisan potato chips? She handmakes those babies each morning. People stand in line to buy a bag. Which is why she’s always out by ten. I’ve only managed to score them on three occasions—days I still celebrate each year.”