combination of opportunity and testosterone. She couldn’t see Augie making the effort to stalk her in the middle of the night.
“Crystal? You’d never make a good poker player. Which one of them bothered you?”
“It was nothing.”
“Let me put it another way. Would you spend the day alone with either of them looking for treasures at an abandoned farmhouse?”
“Well…Augie did try to kiss me after we dropped off the corner cupboard, but I think it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. You know, male hormones running amok.”
“He ever try anything like that before?”
“Never. I wouldn’t have asked him to help if he had.”
“What about the older man? Trey, was it?”
“To hear Augie tell it, Trey’s interested in my grandmother.”
“Fortune hunter?”
“No. They’re old money. Trey owns a fairly large estate. I think they’re merely of like minds.”
The growl of a heavy engine in the driveway sent a shaft of unease through Crystal. Until she remembered. Soren’s brother. Plywood. She glanced at the clock. Four-ten in the morning. She had to admire the family loyalty of the Thorvalds.
Soren was already off his chair and striding to the front door. She followed him, but stayed on the porch as the two men wrestled a piece of plywood out of the truck bed and disappeared around the side of the garage.
Crystal turned on the outside patio lights then decided on a way to thank them properly.
By the time they sized and nailed the plywood to the window frame and clomped into the kitchen, she had nuked some bacon slices, made a fresh pot of coffee, set the table for three, and stashed a pile of freshly made French toast in the warming oven.
Soren introduced them. She reached out a hand to a taller, earthier version of Soren. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your coming here in the middle of the night.”
Magnus shook her hand with, she noticed, nicked and calloused fingers. “He’s my brother. He needed my help.”
“As did I. Please. Sit down and have a cup of coffee.”
“That I will. Thanks.”
She filled an earth-toned mug and set it before him then set the warm plate of French toast on the table.
She was gratified to see Soren’s eyes light up. She wondered how often the bachelor who ate lunch and dinner at the pub made himself a hot breakfast.
As she poured warm maple syrup into a small pitcher and set it alongside the toast, Magnus looked up at her and said, “You’re the lady in the newspaper picture?”
Heat bloomed in her face. “Yes.”
Magnus gave his brother a sly look. “Amazing. Two cataclysmic events occurring on the same evening.”
She cocked her head, a quizzical expression on her face.
“Not only did Soren wear a tie to the auction,” Magnus explained, “but he also did something totally out of character.” He raised his mug in a toast. “Here’s to the woman who got Soren to make a memorable exit.”
Soren’s ears turned red. “I thought she was grandstanding.”
“So you outdid her.”
Saying nothing, Soren studiously cut his French toast into small pieces.
While they ate, conversation revolved around the incident, Magnus asking similar questions to what the police had. When Magnus had polished off four slices of French toast and two cups of coffee, he politely thanked her and stood up to leave. She stood as well, thanking him again for coming to her rescue in the middle of the night.
“Mags, could I hitch a ride?”
Crystal’s attention had been focused on Magnus’ goodbye. She saw him do a double take at his brother’s question. Heck, she felt the same way. How could Soren simply leave? Didn’t he want to finish what had been interrupted?
Magnus cleared his throat, obviously trying to read the situation and come up with a suitable response.
“This was our Buy a Bachelor Dinner night,” Soren said, looking uncomfortable. “Crystal picked me up at Thor’s Hammer. And, uh, after all she’s been through tonight—” his
“Crystal? You’d never make a good poker player. Which one of them bothered you?”
“It was nothing.”
“Let me put it another way. Would you spend the day alone with either of them looking for treasures at an abandoned farmhouse?”
“Well…Augie did try to kiss me after we dropped off the corner cupboard, but I think it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. You know, male hormones running amok.”
“He ever try anything like that before?”
“Never. I wouldn’t have asked him to help if he had.”
“What about the older man? Trey, was it?”
“To hear Augie tell it, Trey’s interested in my grandmother.”
“Fortune hunter?”
“No. They’re old money. Trey owns a fairly large estate. I think they’re merely of like minds.”
The growl of a heavy engine in the driveway sent a shaft of unease through Crystal. Until she remembered. Soren’s brother. Plywood. She glanced at the clock. Four-ten in the morning. She had to admire the family loyalty of the Thorvalds.
Soren was already off his chair and striding to the front door. She followed him, but stayed on the porch as the two men wrestled a piece of plywood out of the truck bed and disappeared around the side of the garage.
Crystal turned on the outside patio lights then decided on a way to thank them properly.
By the time they sized and nailed the plywood to the window frame and clomped into the kitchen, she had nuked some bacon slices, made a fresh pot of coffee, set the table for three, and stashed a pile of freshly made French toast in the warming oven.
Soren introduced them. She reached out a hand to a taller, earthier version of Soren. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your coming here in the middle of the night.”
Magnus shook her hand with, she noticed, nicked and calloused fingers. “He’s my brother. He needed my help.”
“As did I. Please. Sit down and have a cup of coffee.”
“That I will. Thanks.”
She filled an earth-toned mug and set it before him then set the warm plate of French toast on the table.
She was gratified to see Soren’s eyes light up. She wondered how often the bachelor who ate lunch and dinner at the pub made himself a hot breakfast.
As she poured warm maple syrup into a small pitcher and set it alongside the toast, Magnus looked up at her and said, “You’re the lady in the newspaper picture?”
Heat bloomed in her face. “Yes.”
Magnus gave his brother a sly look. “Amazing. Two cataclysmic events occurring on the same evening.”
She cocked her head, a quizzical expression on her face.
“Not only did Soren wear a tie to the auction,” Magnus explained, “but he also did something totally out of character.” He raised his mug in a toast. “Here’s to the woman who got Soren to make a memorable exit.”
Soren’s ears turned red. “I thought she was grandstanding.”
“So you outdid her.”
Saying nothing, Soren studiously cut his French toast into small pieces.
While they ate, conversation revolved around the incident, Magnus asking similar questions to what the police had. When Magnus had polished off four slices of French toast and two cups of coffee, he politely thanked her and stood up to leave. She stood as well, thanking him again for coming to her rescue in the middle of the night.
“Mags, could I hitch a ride?”
Crystal’s attention had been focused on Magnus’ goodbye. She saw him do a double take at his brother’s question. Heck, she felt the same way. How could Soren simply leave? Didn’t he want to finish what had been interrupted?
Magnus cleared his throat, obviously trying to read the situation and come up with a suitable response.
“This was our Buy a Bachelor Dinner night,” Soren said, looking uncomfortable. “Crystal picked me up at Thor’s Hammer. And, uh, after all she’s been through tonight—” his
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