Page 145 of Heartbeats & Highways

“Sure,” Roman said. The chocolate glaze was gone in three bites. “Got a sour cream in there?”

I held out the box again to him and he dug into it. “Sure? That’s it? That’s not going to be an issue?”

“No, it’s not going to be an issue,” Virgil said. “Besides, what did you think we would’ve said when you needed time off, to you know, have your babies?”

“Yeah, but I’m not even close to my due date. That’s a long time away.”

“Not that long,” Homer muttered. “It’ll be here before you know it.”

“Cozy wanted something part time,” Roman said. “And not early mornings. She’s got no problem picking up the slack. You want to go down to three days? Cool? Two? No worries.”

“You think hiring your girlfriend is a good idea?” Virgil asked him.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Roman said.

“Not yet,” Virgil said. “But she will be.”

“No. She’s gonna be my wife,” Roman said. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Moving slow, I see,” Virgil drawled.

“I’ll move as slow as she wants,” Roman said. “But it won’t be a Jazz and Homer situation. That’s years in the making.”

“Yeah, how Homer didn’t die of blue balls, I’ll never know,” Virgil quipped.

“Stop talking about my balls.” Homer glared, causing his brothers to laugh.

“Mom’s gonna be so happy,” Virgil said. “First Homer starts shacking up with Jazz, and now there’s a woman on the horizon for the golden boy.”

“I’m not the golden boy,” Roman protested.

“Yeah, you are. You’re Mom’s favorite and we all know it,” Virgil said with an easy smile. “He never got in trouble for any of our pranks,” he explained to me. “And she never blamed Homer because he’s Homer. So I always got punished enough for the both of them.”

Roman shoved his younger brother. “Pretty sure Brielle’s the favorite.”

“I was just talking about us boys. Anyway, with you and Homer down for the count, that might give me a little breathing room with Mom. She’s been on me for years about settling down even though she knows I’m not interested.” Virgil shook his head.

The front door opened and a little girl who looked to be about six years old ran inside. She came to a halt, her brown eyes widening. “Are those donuts?”

“Yeah, kid, these are donuts,” Virgil said. “But ah, where’s your mom or dad?”

“I don’t have a dad,” the girl stated.

The door opened again, and a bombshell brunette with curves for days strode inside. She frowned. “Clementine, what did I tell you about running ahead of me?”

“But, Mom,” Clementine whined. “You said we needed help, so I came inside to ask for help. They have donuts.”

The bombshell raised her brows. “Donuts, huh?” She looked up from her daughter. “Sorry about that. Do you mind if I use your phone? My cell battery is crap, and it died on me. I need to call a tow truck.”

“What’s wrong with your car?” Virgil asked, not taking his eyes off the woman.

“The front is smoking,” Clementine said, eyeing the box of donuts with wishful intent.

“Let me take a look,” Virgil said.

“Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble,” the woman said. “Just a phone would be fine.”

“I insist.” Virgil flashed a mega flirty grin. “I’m Virgil.”

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