Kelly knocked on a side door, but let us inside before JJ could respond. Warmth rushed out of the kitchen and over my skin. In the fading afternoon light, I welcomed it. A fierce chill had settled as the sun sank behind the mountain.
JJ looked up as we stepped inside. With his hair pulled away from his face and his shoulders broad beneath a long-sleeved T-shirt, he reminded me of a Nordic god. A Nordic god wearing a flour-covered apron. I almost swore under my breath. Sometimes it hurt to look at him.
Half a breath seemed to pass before he grinned at his mom. In that span, I saw hesitation. Maybe a flash of anger. It disappeared so quickly that I couldn’t be sure.
Odd.
Kelly didn’t seem to notice. She wrapped her arms around her son and squeezed him tight. Was it weird to feel jealous of a mom?
“Please tell me you’re fixing something delicious,” she said as she released him.
“Brioche.”
He leaned against a counter, shoulders drawn tight against his shirt, and I almost swallowed my tongue. Instead, I focused on the mess of dough in the mixer. Only JJ could break hearts while wearing flour.
“Fancy,” she sang. “What’s the occasion?”
“Love a challenge.”
He didn’t quite meet her eyes as he said it. Instead, he gave me a smile that spoke worlds of reassurance. Did I imagine extra warmth in there?
Was I losing my mind?
“Hey, Liz.”
My insides melted. “Hey.”
He kept his gaze on me for a breath longer. It threw me off orbit, like he had his own gravity.
“Any chance we can try some?” Kelly asked as she clapped her hands together. He looked away from me and motioned to a counter behind him with a tilt of his head. A perfectly browned loaf of bread sitting there made my mouth water.
“Just finishing this final mix for this batch,” he said. “Then we can try that one out while this one rises.”
Minutes later, JJ finished his prep and set the lump of dough in the fridge to rise overnight. A ringing silence filled the kitchen. We sat on the floor with our backs to the counter while JJ split the loaf into three chunks and passed them around. The still-warm, buttery bread melted on my tongue. I fought a groan. Kelly didn’t.
“You are my favorite son.”
He laughed, but I heard an edge in it. “Thanks.”
Snow fluttered past the window. I watched it, enjoying the delicious bread. Like everything with JJ, even the quiet felt easy and calm. He broke my concentration with a most unexpected question.
“Mom, do you read romance?”
My head snapped up. A twinkle filled JJ’s eyes as he winked at me.
Kelly licked her thumb as she finished her bread. “Sure. It’s been a few years, but I remember diving into it while you were in high school.”
“What’s your favorite kind?”
She frowned. “Are there different kinds?”
So. Many. I wanted to blurt out. In fear of listing every subcategory of romantic fiction out there, I shoved another bite of brioche into my mouth.
JJ’s smile twitched. “Apparently there is,” he said. “I’m partial to contemporary romance so far, myself.”
I almost choked. Kelly reached over and slapped me on the back as I coughed. JJ rolled his lips together.
“Sorry,” I wheezed. “I’m good.”
“You’re reading romance?” Kelly asked JJ.
“Had a friend suggest it as a life-changing experience. Thought I’d give it a try.”
Kelly brushed a few crumbs off her legs. “I’m surprised.”
“Why?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Wasn’t Stacey big into the romance scene? Thought she turned you off from it.”
He stiffened as flat as a board. I pretended there was a string on my knee to avoid staring as he floundered for a response.
Who was Stacey?
Kelly, seeming to realize she’d overstepped, said, “Well? What do you think of these romance books?”
Yes, I added silently. What do you think, JJ?
JJ acted like he didn’t notice my intense interest as he recovered from his mom’s question.
Had he actually been reading romance novels, or was he kidding? That would have required him to go into town and buy some. Or borrow from the library. I pictured him in the fiction aisle, perusing cheap romance novels, and almost choked again.
This time from laughter.
In the back of my mind, I silently congratulated him. Well played. He was likely reading them to get ammunition against me—but it might have the opposite effect.
Romance novels had pulled me through the hardest time of my life. I could turn my brain off and journey somewhere else. Could forget just how miserable reality had become. They were the reason I didn’t give up. The idea of romance coming to even the most normal women made me hang on.
Stick it out.
Mama hadn’t had a lick of romance in her life, and neither had Dad. But Maverick and Bethany? Spades of it. Every day I saw it in their weird glances, their poor attempts at hiding their affection, the constant excuses they invented to touch each other.
Romance for the win.
Maybe JJ would see that.
My attention landed on a stack of at least ten books tucked near the massive fridge. The spines were pointed toward me, and I skimmed the titles. Every single one was a romance. And I’d read all of them.
“Medieval is interesting,” he said conversationally, as if the awkward moment hadn’t happened. “Did romance exist back then?”
“Was there a God in the Middle Ages?” I quipped right back, unable to help myself.
Kelly’s brow furrowed. “Does God have something to do with romance?”
JJ grinned so wide, and with such real delight, I almost couldn’t be upset. “I don’t think God would like being compared to romance,” he said. “And yes, God definitely existed in the belief structure of the Middle Ages.”
“To some it’s the highest compliment,” I said imperiously. Then I turned to Kelly. “He’s
