his mouth, but his eyes were bright and filled with emotion. Doing this for her made him happy, and if her heart wasn’t already lost to him, that would have done it. This was who he was, open and kind, not the dark enigma the spin doctors sold to the masses. He was such a good man, and Jane wished he could see it.
With a nod to Tara and her mother, they locked eyes and Danny leaned in just a little bit. She thought he might kiss her right on the lips, which, other than having an audience, she wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, she kind of hoped he would.
He didn’t; instead her grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
As he left the house, Jane glanced at the clock. Only four hours until he returned. Maybe she could steal that kiss then.
*
Dan didn’t know what was motivating him, but he was obviously going crazy. Bringing breakfast to Jane’s house that morning had been pure impulse. One second he was picking up the items he’d ordered for his contribution to the festivities, the next he was in the bagel shop across the street, ordering a dozen bagels with all the fixings. He couldn’t wait to see her, not even a few more hours. It had already been a few days, and it killed him how much he missed her. The time he spent with Jane had become as important as breathing. It scared the hell out of him, but not for the reasons he would have thought.
Taking an early run was a good way to clear all the cobwebs from his head, especially since he’d been up all night writing. He must have knocked out close to sixty pages. Unable to sleep, he opened his computer at eleven o’clock last night, and before he knew what had happened, the sky was turning gray.
He hadn’t pulled a legit all-nighter in years, ever since he started writing full time. He’d stay up late, or find himself crawling out of bed when an idea hit before the sun came up, but nothing like last night. Inspiration had come hard, and he wasn’t able to contain it. Every thought in his head flooded out in a great rush, and half the time, Danny didn’t know what he had written until he read it back. Some of it needed work, but other parts were brilliant. Earth-shaking and brilliant. He didn’t have a lot of those moments. He’d usually put down a crappy first draft, and then spend months revising and rewriting. But last night, his vision for the story became crystal clear, and it was the mother of all moments. The story flowed. The people, the plot, the nuance were all there—all he had to do was polish it.
His characters weren’t just talking to him, they were battering the inside of his brain, begging to get out and say their piece.
The emotion, the humor, it was a thrill he’d never experienced. He couldn’t tell if what was happening with Jane was controlling his narrative, but his heart was vibrating with excitement for the first time in ages.
Dan always felt an adrenaline rush when writing his crime thrillers. That was the nature of the genre. If he didn’t feel it, his readers wouldn’t. But this love story was about the thrill of being connected, deeply, to someone else. The stories might have been different, but the excitement was the same.
Jane inspired him to be who he needed to be, as a writer—but even more—as a man.
The water from the shower was therapeutic, pounding down, and washing away not only the sweat from his run, but also the fuzziness in his brain.
He was adrift, off-balance, and it was the most energized he’d felt since he’d been a kid who didn’t know what was coming next. He felt that way now—with his career, with Jane—everything was new. His return home was triggering a massive shift in his life, but this time, instead of trying to control every facet of his existence, Dan was going to let things unfold, and see what happened.
It had been just a couple of weeks since he’d walked back into the bookstore, and what he’d always felt for her was rising to the surface, like some long-buried treasure. How was he going to handle it? He never intended to stay in Angel Harbor, believing his life was elsewhere. But now, Dan was fairly sure no place would feel like home if Jane