He leans over to rub my cheek with his scruffy one, and then takes his seat at the table across from me. “Inspection day deserves extra effort.”
I cut into my eggs, the yolk spilling across my plate. “You’re spoiling me.”
“You deserve to be spoiled.” Jared shovels another bite of pancake into his mouth. “So, I know we were joking about a tie, but I don’t even have a suit.”
I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “We can find something off the rack, but I don’t think we have enough time to get it fitted.”
“Why’d they have to choose The Breakwater for the celebration?” he grumbles. “If it’s a dinner to thank everyone who helped complete Phase One, the Rusty Seagull would have been better.”
“Hey, construction workers like to dress up, too.” I tap his foot under the table. “And are you really complaining about an open bar and catered dinner at their expense?”
“No,” he sighs. “But why do I have to wear a tie?”
I lift my orange juice. “So it will match my dress.”
His eyebrows shoot up before his sea-glass green eyes glimmer with interest. “You’re going to wear a dress?”
I frown at him. “Did you expect me to also wear a suit?”
“You’d be sexy in a three-piece,” he rumbles. “Not sure I’ll be able to contain myself if you’re in a skirt.”
Blood rises to my cheeks. “Well, you’ll have to find a way.”
Jared taps his fork on his plate. “Don’t you think planning a celebration before the inspection passes is asking for something to go wrong?”
I fix him with a flat stare. “Don’t even start with that superstitious nonsense.”
“I’m serious! It’s like washing your car right before it rains or?—”
“Shush.” I rise from my chair, rounding the table to where he sits. “Not another word about jinxes or bad luck.”
When he opens his mouth to protest, I silence him with a quick kiss, tasting maple syrup and orange juice on his lips. He grins against my mouth before I pull away.
“Fine,” he concedes, “but when the sprinkler system malfunctions for no reason during the inspection, remember I warned you.”
I swat his shoulder and carry our plates to the sink. “The sprinkler system is flawless. I tested it myself.”
“That’s what they all say.” Jared brings over his empty glass and kisses my shoulder before heading to the shower.
The sound of water running fills the cottage as I pack our lunches. Two identical containers with turkey sandwiches, apples, and the oatmeal cookies I baked last night. With our meals settled, I pull out a third container, adding an extra sandwich and apple.
Grady had mentioned stopping by the site today to work on an article about the resort for the local paper. While his role as Chloe’s agent has diminished since she went indie, he’s picked up freelance writing again.
His recovery from the accident has been slow but steady, and creating again has been therapeutic for him, even if it’s not the creative work he went to university for.
I tuck a cookie into Grady’s lunch, then a second on impulse. The man needs to eat more.
Jared returns, hair damp and smelling like cedar soap. He peers over my shoulder at the three lunch containers. “Seeing Grady today?”
“He texted last night to ask if he could get some quotes about the Homestead for his article.”
“Cool.” Jared reaches around me to steal a cookie, and I intercept his hand.
“That’s for later.” I give him a stern look that doesn’t fool either of us.
“Yes, ma’am.” He grins, unrepentant. “Think he’s decided whether he’s moving into one of the guest rooms at the Homestead or buying one of those new condos in town?”
I zip up the lunch bags with more force than necessary. “He hasn’t said.”