"I like to see it as a pattern emerging."
"Might be."
"I'm not interested in being with anyone else. Not in bed, not over morning eggs."
"I don't sleep around," she said in a serious tone.
"That's not what I said, and not what I meant." Reminding himself to be patient, he took her hand firmly. "I'm telling you that you're the only woman I'm interested in. Got that?"
"I'm being—what did you call it—prickly and oversensitive."
"Yeah, but you still make great eggs."
"I'm sorry. This sort of thing hasn't been… I was going to say a priority for me, but the fact is it just hasn't been. Period. I'm feeling my way."
"Try this: 'Bradley'—by the way, my mother's the only other person that always calls me Bradley. It's kind of nice. Anyway, 'Bradley, I'm not interested in anyone else either.'"
Her smile bloomed. "Bradley, I'm not interested in anyone else either."
"That works for me."
It was working for her, too. And that was just a little scary. "You said once I should ask you why you came back to the Valley. I'm asking you."
"Okay." He picked up the jar of strawberry preserves she'd set out and spread some on his toast. "HomeMakers is more than a business. It's more than tradition. It's family. If you're a Vane," he said with a shrug, "it's HomeMakers."
"Is that what you wanted?"
"Yeah, good thing for me. There were a lot of things to learn, to understand, to train for. I had to go out of the Valley to really get my teeth into the organization, to see it as a whole, beyond its beginnings."
She studied him. He was dressed casually, and his shirt was a bit wrinkled from her hands, from lying on the floor all night. Still, he exuded power and confidence. The kind, she supposed, that was bred in the bone.
"You're proud of it. Of your family, and the beginnings."
"Very much. It's grown, and it's still growing. We've done some really good things—again, not just business. Programs, projects, the layers my grandfather and my father built onto the base of it. I wanted to come back here, to the start, and make something for myself. I intend to make a mark, and I intend to make it in the Valley."
He set his coffee aside. "And I'd better get to it. Are you heading out now?"
"Soon. I've got some chores and errands." She picked up his plate before he could and took it to the sink, then turned to face him. "You'll make your mark, Bradley. You're the kind of man who does. The Valley's lucky to have you back."
For a moment he was simply speechless. "That's the nicest thing you could say to me. Thanks."
"You're welcome. Now go to work," she told him, and kissed him. "And make your mark."
A homey send-off, he thought, and one he could get used to. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close, then took the kiss several layers deeper.
Her eyes were blurry when he let her go—something else, he decided, that he could get used to. "Thanks for breakfast. See you later."
She waited until he'd strolled out before she let out a long breath. "Wow. That oughta hold me."
A glance at the stove clock had her moving quickly to put the kitchen back in order. It was time, she thought, to get to those errands.
Or rather, to start down the path she'd decided to take first.
Armed with her chart and her notes, she got in her car and drove toward her past.
Maybe this was part of the quest, she decided, dealing with and understanding the past while building a future. Or maybe it was just something she had to do to understand the route to the key.
Either way, she was heading to what had once been home.