That Thing Called Love. Susan Andersen

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      And never come back.

      But he’d made it pretty clear that wasn’t going to happen. And she knew the bastard had been right when he’d told her that either she could make things easier for Austin, or she could stick to her guns and likely make them a lot more difficult. So she sighed and dropped her arms to her sides.

      “No. We don’t make a habit of turning customers away at The Brothers just because we don’t like their looks.” Hearing herself, she almost blew a pithy little raspberry, but managed to sink her teeth into her lower lip before she could follow through on the impulse. But, please. She doubted anyone had ever turned this guy away over his looks. “Or their history. Not if they aren’t currently doing anything wrong.”

      He raised his eyebrows. “But it’s just a matter of time, eh?”

      “You said it, not me.”

      He laughed. “You’re not shy about trying to kick my teeth down my throat, are you? I like that about you.”

      She gave him her politest GM smile. “Always happy to oblige.”

      “I bet you are.” He kicked the chair across from him away from the table. “Have a seat.”

      The response that rose to her lips was very un-GM-like, not to mention an anatomical impossibility. Austin, she reminded herself firmly. I have to consider Austin first and foremost.

      She sat. “Thank you. I’m not sure I’ve ever received an invitation so suave.”

      He grinned. “It’s my big-city polish.”

      Dammit, she didn’t want to like anything about this guy, but she couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from twitching upward in appreciation. Then the decision she’d made after a night spent tossing and turning slammed front and center.

      And the smile dissolved.

      “I gave your request a lot of thought,” she said. “And I’ve decided to do what I can to make Austin’s transition as easy on him as possible.”

      He sat straighter in his seat. “Thank you.”

      “Like I told you yesterday, I’m not doing this for you. And you might want to hold the thanks, anyway, because I don’t know if you’ll like my take on how you should handle things.”

      “Lay it on me.”

      “For starters, I wouldn’t tell him your plans to haul him back to New York yet, if I were you.”

      His brows drew together. “You don’t think he should be prepared?”

      A plate with scrambled eggs, toast and a ramekin of yogurt, blueberries and handmade granola was slid onto the table in front of her, and Jenny looked up at the waitress, giving her a smile. “Thanks, Brianna.”

      “No problem.” The young woman turned Jenny’s cup over in its saucer and filled it with coffee. “Can I get you anything else?”

      “No, thank you.” Glancing around, she saw that she and Jake were the only diners left—not that there’d been that many to begin with. “Go grab your own breakfast. And tell the crew to work around us if we’re still here when they’re ready to set up for lunch.” A chore they performed as soon as the breakfast crowd cleared out and they’d eaten their meals.

      The girl shot her a grin. “Will do.”

      She watched Brianna walk away, then turned back to Jake. “I absolutely believe Austin needs to be prepared,” she said, picking up the conversation. “But if you lead off with the fact you’re taking him from Razor Bay, he’ll shut down on you so fast it’ll make your head spin—and it will only take you that much longer to gain his trust. Look, you might be accustomed to packing up and taking off at a moment’s notice, but trust me, Austin is not.”

      He studied her. “What makes you think I am?”

      “Please,” she said with dismissive scorn. “There’s a wealth of stuff about you on the internet.”

      “You looked me up?”

      “Of course.” She tipped her head. “Do you find my assessment off the mark?”

      He hitched one shoulder. “No, that’s pretty accurate.”

      “So you’re used to living life on the fly. You’re also an adult. He’s a kid who’s lived in one place his entire life.”

      “And is probably dying for a change.”

      “Why, because you were at his age? That’s something you should definitely discuss with him, but aside from longing for a daddy when he was younger, I can’t say that I’ve ever witnessed signs of Austin being dissatisfied with his lot.”

      He started patting his chest and her eyebrows drew together. “What are you doing?”

      “You slipped that knife in so sweet and slick, I want to be sure I don’t bleed to death before I even realize I’ve been shivved.”

      She shrugged. “Put yourself in his place for a minute instead of trying to shoehorn him into yours. I know you’re getting up there in years but—”

      A bark of laughter interrupted her. “Jesus, you’re a pisser.”

      Jenny ignored him. “—try to remember back to when you were thirteen. How open would you have been if a man you’d never met suddenly inserted himself into your life and, without giving you so much as a moment to get to know him, told you he was gonna haul you away from everything you knew to a life different from anything you could imagine, clear on the other side of the country?”

      “In all honesty?” He gave her an ironic smile. “I probably would’ve burned rubber packing my bag. But in the interests of that putting-myself-in-his-place thing, I agree that a different kind of kid might be pissed.” He gave a grudging nod. “I’ll keep my plans to myself until we get to know each other.”

      “And I’ll work on trying to get him to spend some time with you.”

      “Thank you.”

      She shrugged and picked up her fork. She’d prefer to move to another table where she could eat her breakfast in peace, but for the sake of cooperation, she stayed put. But the sourdough toast and eggs in her standing Saturday order tasted like wood chips and glue.

      He didn’t try to talk to her while she forced herself to eat every bite. For a while she appreciated it. But as the silence dragged on, she felt an antsy need to fill it with something.

      Anything.

      She shifted in her chair. Set her fork down and looked at him across the table.

      Got hung up for a minute on his eyes.

      Stop that! Dammit, what was it about him? She’d never been one to go all crazy over a handsome face. Yet with him—well, it was scary how unlike herself she felt when she looked at him too long or too closely. She was so not the bubbleheaded Ooh, what pretty eyes you have—what’s your sign type.

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