Page 28 of Conrad

He sighed. “Yeah, I know. No, he didn’t show up for practice.”

“Maybe that was God on your side. Baby steps.”

He didn’t attribute any of that to God’s involvement. But he didn’t want to argue with her theology. Leave well enough alone and maybe everything would be fine.

“By the way, their Hawaiian pizza is amazing. Stein and I went out before I headed back to the Keys. How is he? It’s been a minute since I’ve heard from him.”

“I saw him last weekend, at the EmPowerPlay charity event. He’s working with Declan Stone. Stone offered him a job after Stein returned his phone.” Their brother had weirdly found Declan Stone’s phone in his suit pocket after Boo’s wedding reception.

“He was still thinking about the offer when I left. Did he ever figure out how Stone’s phone ended up in his pocket?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the man mistook Stein’s jacket for his own.”

“Well, I’m glad he took it. He needed something besides teaching kids how to snorkel.” Another thump. “Listen. Eat some pizza, relax. This could be fun—just don’t overthink it.”

“Have you met me?” He pulled into a space.

“Right. What Conrad wants, Conrad gets.”

“Ha. I’d like to live in your fantasy.”

“Love you, bro. Stay groovy.” She hung up.

Geez,his sister, the surfer girl, marine biologist, deep-sea treasure hunter.

Maybe hewasoverthinking the entire thing. The past. His career. Penelope.

“What Conrad wants, Conrad gets.”

Hardly, but . . . whatdidhe want?

His gaze landed on Penelope the moment he entered the former Pizza Hut with red vinyl booths and black tables. The place smelled of garlic and Italian sausage and tomato sauce, and he lifted a hand to a couple locals as he came in, including Deputy Jenna Hayes, who sat at a booth with a man he didn’t recognize.

A glance around the room said that Lucas hadn’t joined them. But Penelope had, and now she sat at a booth across from a table of raucous boys, reading her phone.

She looked up as he walked over. “Hey.”

“This seat taken by anyone under the age of thirty-two?”

She arched a brow, but offered a slim smile. “Don’t break a hip sliding in.”

He sat down, waved to Simon, sitting with a couple kids, and turned to her. “What are you doing?”

“Looking up hockey suppliers.” She met his eyes. “These guys need gear. New helmets, new skates, new pads, new everything. I had a talk with Simon—they got a bus to transport kids last year, and that ate up their entire budget.”

Oh.“I didn’t know.”

A waitress came over and he ordered a Coke.

“Pepperoni?” he asked.

“Whatever you want. But I heard the Hawaiian is good.”

From who?“Sure,” he said, and the waitress left.

He glanced at the other table, where a serious arm-wrestling match was going down.

She turned to him. “Okay, I can admit I didn’t expect to see you at practice. I mean—I guess I figured we’d connect, you know, but you seemed a little . . . weird, I guess, after seeing Simon at the gala.”

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