Page 23 of When You Got a Good Thing (Misfit Inn 1)

He laid a hand against Kennedy’s lower back. “You okay?” he murmured.

She went still, curling her fingers around the edge of the counter. Because his hand was still on her, he felt the slow, controlled exhale. “Fine.” The word was so low, no one else was likely to have heard.

Xander eased a little closer. “You still can’t lie worth a damn.”

Kennedy frowned at him. “What are you doing here?”

“My work keys are in my coat pocket.”

Confusion flickered over her face for a moment before she realized what he meant. She nodded, though whether that was acceptance or some variation of I’ll take care of it, Xander wasn’t sure. She clearly didn’t want to announce to the family that she’d been with him last night, so he kept his mouth shut as she nudged him out of the way and pulled the skillet back out of the ove

n. With careful, practiced moves, she placed a plate over the skillet and inverted it. All Xander could tell was that there were eggs involved and it smelled amazing. Maybe it was some kind of fancy oven omelet?

“What is that?”

“Tortilla Española.”

He eyed the thick, steaming egg-thing. “That doesn’t look like any kind of tortilla I’ve ever seen.”

“Not that kind of tortilla. That’s Mexican. This is a Spanish potato tortilla—more like a frittata—for Ari. Her grandmother emigrated from Seville, and I thought it might be something she’d have made Ari as comfort food.”

“Every weekend.” The quiet voice came from the doorway, and they all turned.

Ari crossed into the kitchen, her sock feet soundless on the wood floor as she came to inspect Kennedy’s work. She leaned over and inhaled the fragrant steam, her dark eyes closing. “It smells like hers.”

Kennedy fidgeted with a pot holder. “I thought, maybe, it might appeal more than all this other stuff.”

Ari straightened and threw herself at Kennedy. Kennedy staggered back one step before she caught herself and wrapped both arms tight around the girl.

“Gracias.” The word came out muffled against Kennedy’s shoulder.

“De nada, hermanita.”

Ari spilled out more rapid fire Spanish in a quiet voice, and Kennedy answered in kind. Xander had no idea what she said, except that it had the tone of promises.

Finally, stroking a hand down the girl’s hair, Kennedy leaned back. “Will you eat?”

Ari nodded and reached into the cabinet for a plate. She cut herself a massive slab of the tortilla and took it to the table under the shocked gazes of the other Reynolds women. Kennedy’s mouth curved in a satisfied smile.

Grabbing more plates, she looked over at him. “Well, you’re here. You might as well have some breakfast.”

While the rest of them filled their plates with breakfast casserole and pastries from all the food brought by the mourners—by tacit agreement, they left most of the tortilla for Ari—Kennedy excused herself. He heard footsteps on the stairs and figured she was going to retrieve his coat. From long habit, he took his breakfast to the table and sat. He’d eaten meals at this table more than a hundred times over the years. The faces had often changed, but it had always felt like a big, extended family. Now, without Joan to referee, it just felt wrong.

Maggie studied him over her coffee cup. “Xander, what are you doing?”

Being purposely obtuse, he dug into the food. “In the time-honored tradition of bachelors everywhere, I’m mooching breakfast.”

“My bull—” Athena glanced at Ari. “—pucky meter is pinging,”

The teenager rolled her eyes. “I’m thirteen. I’ve heard swearing before.”

“That’s still no reason for us to use it around the table,” Pru said easily.

They all looked at him expectantly. Ignoring the adults, he leaned over and aimed his fork toward Ari’s tortilla.

She narrowed her eyes and brandished her knife. “Don’t make me cut you.”

Xander chuckled.

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