Page 24 of Everlasting Promises

We easily work together to prepare our lunch. My eyes keep dropping to the play of his muscles beneath the smooth, decorated skin of his forearms. His long, capable fingers mix the mince until all the ingredients are combined, and heat rises to my cheeks. I blow out a long breath and focus on cutting and buttering the buns. “How long have you lived here?”

He stops for a moment, narrowing his eyes in thought. “I moved here about four years ago now. I used to live in Piney Lakes.”

“Oh, wow. That’s quite a change of pace.” He nods, murmuring his agreement. “What made you move to the city?”

He swallows harshly and returns his focus to the patties he’s shaping. “There were more opportunities in the police forcehere. I didn’t want to be a small-town cop.” He waves his hands around, gesturing to the house. “And I figured I may as well make the move since this house was left to me when my best friend’s mom passed away.” He places the patties on a tray. “It used to be their family’s vacation home that hadn’t been used in a long time, and it needed a fair amount of work, but I’m happy with the results.”

I swallow the lump in my throat at the change in his tone when he shares the loss of his best friend’s mom.I wonder why the house was left to him and not his best friend?“I’m sorry for your loss.” He simply nods and returns his attention to the burgers. Opening the fridge, I peer inside. “Well, you’ve done a fantastic job.” I move a few items aside, but still can’t find what I’m looking for. “Do you have ketchup?”

“Yeah, it’s in the pantry.” He gestures toward a door with a tip of his chin.

The fridge door bangs closed with a heavy thud, as disbelief washes through me, swift and strong. “In the pantry?”

“Yeah?” he responds slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I can’t believe he keeps the ketchup in the pantry.Heathen. Opening the pantry door, my eyes widen when the unexpectedly large space greets me. He has a full butler’s pantry hidden behind the simple door. “Oh wow, this is amazing,” I say, already imagining what I could do with all of my baking supplies in a space like this. I grab the ketchup from the mostly empty shelf and wave it around as I exit the meticulously kept space. “Everyone knows you keep the ketchup in the fridge.”

He turns and leans his ass against the granite counter, folding his arms across his chest, and I can’t help but notice how his muscles shift and change. The way his T-shirt stretches around his biceps and pulls across his pecs. “I don’t like my ketchup cold. Room temperature works best for me. Even Heinz says it’s shelf-stable. I checked.”

My eyebrows shoot up. I’m impressed. “Fair enough. I was always taught it goes in the fridge. I never thought to question whether I could safely store it in the pantry.” You learn something new every day.

Evan barges in through the back door with Rex by his side. They’ve certainly become fast friends. “Are we eating soon? I’m starving.” My eyebrows shoot up at his familiarity with Ben.

Ben chuckles. “Sure. I’ll cook the patties. You think you can survive another fifteen minutes?”

Rex heads over to his bowl and greedily slurps the water, then drops to the floor, resting his head on his front paws. His golden eyebrows shift as he watches us move around the kitchen with intelligent brown eyes.

“I guess so. I’m thirsty, though. Can I get a drink?” He heads to the fridge and yanks it open.

“Manners, Evan.” I frown at him.What the hell?“You don’t just help yourself. You wait for your host to offer you a drink. And where’s theplease? You know better than that.”

He closes the fridge and drops his eyes to the oak floor. “Sorry.” Then looks up at Ben. “Sorry, Ben.”

“That’s okay, I’m a terrible host. I should have offered you and your mom a drink when we got home. My mom would be very disappointed in me. Manners are really important to her,” Ben says in a tone that suggests his mom would bemorethan disappointed in him as he grabs some glasses from the cupboard above the sink. Pointing with his elbow toward the fridge, he tells Evan to choose a drink for all of us and then pours them as the burgers sizzle in the grill pan.

Once they’re cooked and we assemble the burgers, we load up our plates with fries and carry them out to the back deck. Rex follows us and lies quietly at Evan’s feet. Completely enamored, my son can’t tear his eyes away from his furry friend as he eats. Idon’t think I’ve ever seen a more well-behaved dog, but I guess it makes sense, given he’s a police dog. I bet his training is intense.

The briny breeze blows my curls around my face, so I twist them around until they form a temporary knot to keep my hair out of the way. I only half listen to Ben and Evan’s conversation about soccer and running as I stare at the view in front of me. The glistening sparkles of the sun on the bluest water and the white crests of the waves as they crash onto the shore have me mesmerized. I wonder if Ben’s lived here so long that he takes this spectacular view for granted, or does he appreciate how lucky he is to have it to enjoy?

“Donnelly goes to the same school as me. He told me he’s starting a running club next week. I think I’ll join because it’ll help my fitness for soccer,” he tells Ben, then turns to me. “Do you think Nanna would mind taking me to school earlier on Friday?”

I shrug. “I don’t see why she’d mind, especially if it’s so you can exercise. You know how much she loves to run.” At sixty, Mom still runs every day. “She’ll probably start bugging you to join her when she runs her half marathon,” I say, nudging his side.

“I’ve done a couple of half marathons. They’re great fun.” Ugh, another weirdo who likes to run. Ben raises his eyebrows at me. “What? You don’t like to run?”

“Nope. I couldn’t think of anything worse than running.” Much to Mom’s disappointment. I readjust the twist at my nape. “I get winded too quickly and feel like I’m going into cardiac arrest.” It’s not pretty—or fun. I don’t understand how people find it therapeutic.

Ben glances at me, then looks at Evan. “Maybe we should train your mom.”

I hold my hands up in a defensive move. “Nope. Don’t even think about it. My mom’s been trying to get me to run since I wasa teenager. It’s not gonna happen now. I’m too old to start. Ballet was enough to keep me fit.”

Ben chuckles. “We’ll see.”

He can chuckle all he wants, but wewon’tsee. The guys continue to chat over apple pie and ice cream, and warmth—not just from the afternoon sun—unfurls through my chest at their easy camaraderie. It’s like they’ve known each other a lot longer than they actually have. It all feels very comfortable.

Too comfortable.

The sun is sinking in the sky, reminding me we’ve been here for a while and should get home. I have things to do, and Evan has a homework assignment to complete.

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