phone as they crossed the main level to the back door. He let them out, relocked, then stood, sheltered with her by the floor of the overhead porch as he called Ryder.
“Hey, kids okay?”
“Yeah, no problem. We sold the older two for twenty each to a traveling circus. Let the runt go for a six-pack. Good deal.”
“We’ll be about five more minutes.”
“Okay by me. They ate your pizza, man. The runt went for the jalapenos like candy.”
“Hold on. What do you like on your pizza?”
“I was going to have a salad.” When he just stared at her with those deep blue eyes, she sighed. “Just pepperoni works for me.”
“Order up a pepperoni,” he told Ryder. “Five.”
He clicked off, took her hand again. “I’ll buy you a pizza, a traditional first date. Your kids ate mine.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. It’s giving me the first date. Rain’s slowed down. You can give me the bookstore keys, head right over.”
“I don’t mind a little rain. Plus it’ll be easier and quicker if I get it. I know just where it is.”
They circled the building. “Did you know Murphy likes jalapenos?”
“He’ll eat anything.” She laughed when Beckett made a dash for it, pulling her along. Laughed when the rain cooled her skin, dampened her hair. “Beckett? This is already a really nice first date.”
BECKETT DOUBTED A traditional first date included a trio of kids begging for quarters, his brothers and the owner of the restaurant playing chaperone—and video games—and people dropping by the now-sprawling table to catch up on news or ask about the inn.
But it suited him fine.
Plus the casual, crowded circumstance would keep everybody from speculating. He didn’t mind town gossip; hell, it was part of the fuel that ran the engine. He’d just as soon not have his personal life discussed over breakfast at Crawford’s or scooped up like a banana split at The Creamery.
He and his brothers put business on hold until Clare packed her kids up.
“One more game. Please!” Liam, the designated negotiator, put on his best begging face. “Just one more, Mom. We’re not tired.”
“I’m tired. And I’m out of quarters, plus you have to pay off your current debt cleaning your room tomorrow.”
She watched his eyes slide toward the Montgomerys and narrowed her own. “Don’t you even think about tapping that source again.”
“Sorry, pal.” Beckett lifted his hands. “Nobody bucks a mom.”
“Aw, come on,” Liam began before his mother’s eyes narrowed a bit more.
“I think you meant to say something else to Beckett, and to Ryder and Owen, and Avery.”
He sighed, hugely. “Thanks for the quarters and the pizza and stuff.”
“I’ll take you down in Space Crusader next time around, shortie,” Ryder told him, and Liam brightened with the challenge.
“No way! I’m taking you down.”
“Come on, troops.” Avery pushed to her feet. “I’ll walk out with you.”
After a chorus of ’byes and thanks, and some foot dragging, Clare wrangled the boys to the stairwell door.
When the noise level dropped, Owen reached for his briefcase, where he’d stashed the files again.
“Hold on,” Ryder told him. “Let’s take this up to Beck’s. God knows who else might drop by and challenge us to a few rounds of Monster Bash.”
“Good idea.” Owen rose, pointed at Beckett. “Go pay the tab.”
“Hey.”
“I called it first. We’ll meet you up there.”
By the time he made it up, his brothers—both had keys—had raided his kitchen for beer and chips before making themselves comfortable in his living room.
D.A. lounged on the floor enjoying leftover pizza.
Ryder sent Beckett a slow smile. “So, you’re hitting on Clare the Fair.”
“I’m not hitting on her. I’m exploring the possibility of seeing her on social terms.”
“He’s hitting on her,” Owen said around a mouthful of chips. “You’ve still got that thing you had for her back in high school. Are you still writing bad song lyrics about heartbreak?”
“Suck me. And they weren’t that bad.”
“Yeah, they were,” Ryder disagreed. “But at least now we don’t have to listen to you playing your keyboard and howling them out down the hall. You have noticed she comes with three additions.”
“It’s come to my attention. So what?”
“Just checking. I like them. They’re not brats or robots.”
Beckett dropped down in a chair, picked up the beer his brothers had set out for him. “I’m taking her out next week. I figure dinner and maybe a movie.”
“Old school,” was Ryder’s opinion. “Predictable.”
“Maybe, but I think old school and predictable may be what’s called for. I get the feeling she hasn’t dated much since she came back