Page 6 of Better Luck Next Time

“Sorry,” he said, still standing in front of the door with his phone in his hand.

She set her dish on the counter and lifted the foil. “Enchiladas?”

She grabbed a fork to poke inside and saw they were stuffed full of black beans.

“Mine is goulash,” he said, moving closer. “Help yourself.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Goulash is a slice of home? I thought for sure that Dottie had figured out how to make a casserole deep-dish pizza.”

A rare grin stretched across Jack’s face, and for the first time Adalia could see his resemblance to her brother Lee, especially in the eyes. Jack’s were brown and Lee’s were hazel, but they had a similar shape to them. “My nana used to make it for me.”

Adalia’s eyes flew wide. “How did Dottie know that?”

He laughed. “I know Dottie tries to convince everyone she’s psychic, but there’s an explanation for this one. I mentioned it to her during a video chat.”

Adalia couldn’t help but feel a small wave of disappointment. Dottie might not be psychic, but shewasintuitive. In a weird way, it would be nice to think there was more to it. “Missing home?”

Jack looked caught off guard by her question, but to her surprise he answered. “Yeah.”

Something told her it wasn’t a place he was missing, more like awho. She nearly peppered him with questions, but it occurred to her that Jack had spent thirty-plus years without knowing any of the Buchanans. He’d shown up at the will reading with a trunk full of baggage. She’d hate for him to start peppering her with questions about her massive issues, so instead she asked, “Have you eaten?”

“No, but I’m sure it’s good.”

She laughed. “No, doofus. I’m inviting you to eat with me. Apparently, we’re family, and we’re living together, so we might as well start doing some things together.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Like having family dinners?”

She shrugged, trying to pretend it was no big deal, but she and Georgie and, more often than not, River used to eat dinner together most nights. They still invited her over more than they should, but it wasn’t the same as the casual pattern they’d developed. She missed it. “We don’t have to…”

“No,” he said quickly. Then, as though realizing he’d seemed too eager, he said more deliberately, “I’d like that.”

“Well, okay then,” she said, pulling out the goulash for him. “Let’s fill our plates and sit at the table.”

“Okay,” he said, “but I’m a little nervous about those enchiladas.”

Adalia laughed again, relieved to see Jack loosening up. “Last week Dottie told me that I looked pale and was worried I might be anemic. She knows I don’t eat meat, so I guess she thought beans would do the trick.”

“Got any Beano?” he joked as he pulled two plates out of a cabinet. “We’ve got a meeting with Georgie first thing in the morning.”

“No, but now youreallyhave to eat some. Then she won’t know who to blame for the stench.”

He smiled, a genuine smile, and Adalia was surprised how happy it made her to know she’d been the one to put it there.

“I think our first family dinner needs to be celebrated with alcohol. Beer or wine?” she asked, then shot him a teasing grin. “What wine goes with goulash and bean enchiladas?”

He started to answer, then stopped himself, his smile stretching wider. “Isn’t it sacrilege to drink anything but Buchanan beer?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I think there’s a cab on top of the fridge, although that’s the worst place to keep wine.” He made a face as he glanced up at the small foldable six-bottle wine rack.

“A cab sounds great, and move the wine rack anywhere you see fit.” She paused and looked him square in the eye. “I know this is awkward for both of us. We barely know each other, and—surprise!—suddenly we’re family, but this is your house too. Move things around if you want.”

He studied her for a moment, then said with a deadpan face, “You feel awkward with me?”

Oh crap. Adalia tried to figure out how to smooth this over, but he broke out into another grin.

“You asshole,” she said, but her laugh softened the words.

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