paws and went to sleep.
Breakfast smells hit Brady full in the olfactory glands the minute he entered the café. His stomach reacted with wild abandon.
As usual this early in the morning, the café was jammed and the clatter of conversations mixed with the clink of plates and the cook’s voice calling “order up!”
An old-time diner-style café that served up home cooking and comfort food, the Buttered Biscuit was the place to be for good eats and all the latest and greatest in Gabriel’s Crossing news.
Brady greeted friends and acquaintances as he made his way to a table still cluttered with someone else’s empty plates and took a seat.
Jan, the owner and baker of the fluffiest biscuits in Texas, whipped past. “Get that in a sec, Brady.”
“No rush.” Which wasn’t technically true. He was always in a rush these days.
Two other waitresses were on duty, all of them moving at Mach speed to fill cups and deliver plates. Abby Webster, pad in hand, took orders two tables away. She looked up, spotted Brady and hesitated as if she didn’t want to see him.
Too bad.
She had kept him up late trying to figure out why anyone would refuse a free home makeover from the best builders in the area. The least she could do was bring him a cup of coffee.
She whipped toward him and he noticed her as he never had before, though he ate at the diner fairly often. Probably because, as Dawson said, she was all business. The other waitresses smiled and bantered with the customers—he noticed them—but Abby simply worked. He wondered, randomly, if she did anything for fun.
“French toast and milk?” she asked. Her cheekbones were tipped in pink.
“Sure. And the strongest cup of coffee you have.” Coffee, like her eyes. Dark and shiny and able to deliver a jolt.
She didn’t offer a joke, as Jan would have, by asking him if he’d been out all night partying or some other sass-mouthed comment she was known for. Abby simply scribbled his order, grabbed a pile of plates and sailed away.
He watched her move through the customers, topping off coffee and delivering checks as she made her way to the kitchen with his order.
She was actually kind of pretty, a truth that surprised him this morning. Mink-colored hair that gleamed over one shoulder, huge dark eyes framed by thick, arching eyebrows and a wide, full mouth. On anyone else, the large features would be too much, but they looked good on her.
“What are you staring at, big brother?” Dawson pulled out the chair opposite him. Sawyer, the other twin, joined him on the right.
Brady ignored the question. “What are you two doing here?”
“Same as you. Too lazy to cook breakfast. Have you been able to locate a plumber for the Edwards job?”
Brady slapped the heel of one hand to his forehead. “Ah, man, I forgot.”
He’d been so keyed up after the strange meeting with Abby he’d not given the plumber another thought until this moment.
“Dad’s not going to be happy.”
“I’ll find someone.” But not before the already-passed deadline of six o’clock. “Any ideas.”
“A couple. You might call Richie Clonts up in Idabel.”
“Good idea.”
“Give Charity a call. She’ll know his number.”
Charity was their oldest sister, a powerhouse real estate agent with a steel-trap mind and a list of contacts a mile long.
He fished his cell phone from his hip pocket, got the number from his sister and called the plumber. Five minutes later, he hung up a happier man. “Richie can send someone tomorrow. Dad wanted someone today, but tomorrow is better than nothing.”
Abby appeared with his coffee in a thick white mug and took orders from the twins.
“You’re pretty busy,” Sawyer said, saying the obvious with a toothy smile. Brady’s younger brothers, especially Sawyer, were always scoping the field for ladies.
“Slammed, but it’s letting up.”
“Still have my phone number?” Brady asked.
Her gaze flicked his direction. She got pink again. “Haven’t you chosen someone else?”
“I’d rather give you time to think about the offer.”
“Why?”
The question caught Brady off guard, but he said, “I like your little girl and I can give her something she needs.”
A look, almost of panic, flamed in Abby’s eyes. Again, Brady wondered what her problem was.
“Lila and I are okay, but thanks. Anything else on these orders?”
The twins lifted their fingers off the table in an identical gesture. “We’re good.”
And Abby whirled away, leaving the Buchanon brothers staring after her.
“Stubborn,” Brady muttered as he reached for the steaming cup.
“Embarrassed,” Dawson said. “Did you see how she blushed?” Intuitive and empathetic, Dawson was the brother who always noticed things like that.
“Nah,” Sawyer said, and laughed. “She was overwhelmed by my charm. Girls always turn pink in my studly presence.”
His brothers hooted.
“Dawg’s more charming than you.”
“Prettier, too.”
“Aw, thanks, guys.” Sawyer hung his head in mock offense.
“Kidding aside, do you think we embarrassed her?” Brady asked.
“What’s this we business? You’re the guilty party.”
The concept gave Brady pause. He’d never purposely embarrass someone, but maybe Dawson was right. Maybe Abby somehow mistook his intentions. Maybe she thought he was putting her down.
Man, he’d never considered such a thing.
“I think I should talk to her again, show her the possibilities.”
The twins exchanged looks. “Can’t take no for an answer, can you, Brady?”
Never had. Never would. Not when someone needed him, and he was convinced Abby and Lila needed his help.
Before he left, Brady slid a twenty-dollar bill under his plate.
* * *
He’d left her twenty dollars. Abby didn’t know whether to be pathetically grateful or even more humiliated
