Page 41 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

“I remember!” Duke exclaims and breaks off some bacon, tossing it to Biscuit.

“Your mornings sound more peaceful than ours,” Thatcher muses, passing me the eggs.

“Sometimes too peaceful,” I admit. “By the way, my landlord messaged me yesterday telling me he was opening up the outdoor space to pets. You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you?”

“Huh,” Thatcher says unemotionally. “Not a thing.”

“Because it seems like an awfully big coincidence that a couple of nights after we were almost ro—” I stop myself short of saying robbed, and glance at Duke who’s watching us with big, eager eyes. “After you learn my landlord doesn’t let me use the yard,” I correct myself, “Suddenly, he’s had a change of heart.”

“Coincidence, indeed,” Thatcher murmurs, then takes a slow sip of coffee.

“My sister always told me that coincidences don’t really exist.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Thatcher snorts. “Of course, coincidences exist. They happen every day.”

I shoot him a pointed look. “Ordo well-meaning friends put in calls to people?”

Thatcher’s fork freezes midway to his mouth. “Friends?”

I clear my throat. “Colleagues. Hirees. Whatever.” I wave my hand to try to blow off the intensity of what I said. Lucky for me, I’m interrupted by Duke abandoning his breakfast to crawl into my lap, a coloring book and crayons in tow.

“Will you color with me, Allie?” he asks, his small hands already flipping to a page with dragons and knights.

“You have to let Allie eat, buddy,” Thatcher says.

But I’m already sliding my plate to the side to make room for Duke’s coloring book. “Oh, it’s okay,” I say. “I can still take bites in between coloring this dragon!”

Thatcher watches us for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his features before he masks it with a smirk. “Looks like you’ve been recruited into the ranks of dragon slayers, Larsen.”

“Seems like it,” I say, smiling up at him. For an instant, the air between us becomes charged, the molecules buzzing to life with something like possibility, a hint that maybe there was room in this makeshift family for one more.

“You need a sword to be a dragon slayer!” Duke offers. “Like Daddy! He slays dragons, right, Daddy?”

Thatcher’s jaw tightens briefly, but he nods and forces a smile. “I used to. All kinds of dragons.”

“He used to protect our country!” Duke says proudly.

“Did your daddy travel all over the world?” I ask, my journalistic senses tingling. In the wake of our pancake-filled morning, I’d almost forgotten what I was here to do. Get the inside scoop on this man and his odd matchmaking business that has to be more than meets the eye.

“Uh-huh.” Duke nods fervently. “He lived in Germany and Africa and Algernon?—”

“Algeria,” Thatcher corrects with a warm smile.

“Right, that’s what I said.”

“Out of everywhere, what was your favorite place you’ve ever lived?” I ask Thatcher.

He reaches over to Duke’s plate and stabs his fork into a bite of pancake, stealing it for himself. “I’d have to say right here. Charleston, South Carolina is my favorite place I’ve lived.”

“Really?” Duke asks, wide-eyed.

“Really.” Thatcher nods. “You and I are completely safe.Daddy doesn’t have to live on base anymore. And I get to see you every day. Plus, the weather is beautiful.”

“Well, I can’t argue with any of that,” I say.

Duke hops off my lap and starts tugging on my hand. “Can I show Ms. Allie my playroom?”

“Oh, Duke, I was going to help your dad with the dishes since he cooked this big breakfast for us?—”

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