Seeking Shelter by Angel Smits Page B

that piece of information. And giving himself time to swallow back the urge to walk around the counter and...and what? Comfort her? He refused to let himself pursue that thought, but the image of her leaning into his chest was too vivid to ignore. He took another swallow and tried to wash it away.
    “It’s time to close up.” Katie ran through the store, stopping only when she and Butcher reached the front door. She turned the old lock and flipped the Open sign over like a pro. “Come on, Mama.” She walked to where they were, looking up expectantly. “I washed up and everything. See? Even Butcher’s clean.”
    Jace looked down. The dog’s face was wet, the fur above his eyes expertly parted to lie flat against his ears.
    They all laughed and Katie headed to the back of the store. “Come on, if you dare,” Amy said to Jace as she followed her daughter.
    Jace’s heart sank. This kid was pinning way too much on this. “Hey, maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he said to Amy. Katie looked back and her face crumpled, sending a twinge of guilt through him.
    “No, please.” Amy turned to glance at him. “We’d love for you to join us.” She still didn’t sound as if she meant it, but the glare she gave him said loud and clear, Don’t you dare let her down.
    “In that case, I’d appreciate it.”
    Katie grinned and guided him to the back porch, to one of the wooden chairs that sat at the small table. The sun was low in the sky, and while the heat of the day hung on, it was pleasant out here in the shade. Luckily, the girl chatted a mile a minute to fill the awkward silence as Amy put the meat on the grill and brought the rest of dinner outside.
    Jace was a burger and fries kind of guy. He wasn’t ashamed of it. But the “burger” that eventually sat on the plate in front of him wasn’t quite what he usually ate. It lacked that dark, grilled color, looking a pale gray. And were those lumps? He gazed at it for several moments, trying to figure out what to do.
    “Ketchup,” Katie whispered.
    “What?”
    The little girl slid the red bottle toward him, then stared at him, expectant and innocent. Amy was in the kitchen getting the salad, so he narrowed his eyes at Katie.
    “Like this.” She picked up the bottle and started squeezing it for all she was worth. He’d never seen anyone put that much ketchup on anything. Then she passed it to him again.
    Jace frowned. He didn’t want to upset Amy by not eating her food. His mom had taught him at least the basic manners before he’d left home. He picked up the burger, and just as he sank his teeth into it, heard Katie whisper, “You’ll be sorry.” Then she had the audacity to giggle.
    He knew instantly why she was laughing at him. How could someone ruin something as simple as a burger? It was just hamburger, grilled in its own delectable, fattening juices, right? Not this one.
    “Told you.” Katie gave the bottle a nudge.
    In self-defense, Jace squeezed a large mound of the stuff onto his burger. Just as he set the bottle down, Amy returned to the table.
    She gave a polite, hostess smile and looked at his plate. “Ah, you’re one of those. Just like Katie. Don’t tell me you put ketchup on everything the way she does?”
    “Everything?” he said around his next bite.
    Katie looked at him in pity and nodded. “Yep. Everything.”
    “Uh-huh.” He ate a couple more bites, realizing all he tasted was the ketchup. Whatever she’d done to the burger was masked by the condiment. Thank goodness.
    “This is one of my mom’s recipes.” Amy looked at him expectantly, as if daring him to say anything bad about it. Was she trying to poison him?
    He paused in chewing. “Um.” He swallowed. “Good.” Something hard that felt suspiciously like Katie’s shoe hit his shin, and the little girl glared at him. “What?” he mouthed before turning back to look at Amy, who ate her ketchupless burger as if there wasn’t a blessed thing wrong with