“First,” Zoe said in a fair imitation of Brad’s most clipped tone, “it’s not a toy.”

“Jeez.” Dana laughed her way to her feet. “You slay me.”

Chapter Seventeen

“YOU sure about this?” Brad studied Jordan, and the square-cut ruby ring in his hand.

“Yeah. I think. She’d like this better than the traditional diamond.”

“I don’t mean the ring. I mean what you’re buying the ring for.”

“I’m sure. A little queasy, but sure.”

“I’m not going to take offense,” Flynn decided. “I could take offense that asking my sister to marry you makes you queasy, but I won’t.”

Jordan smiled a little as he turned the ring under the light. He’d wanted them both with him when he took this step. A kind of circle, he supposed, just as the ring was a circle. He couldn’t say either of them had been thrilled to be hauled off to Pittsburgh and into a jewelry stone, but they’d come through.

They always did.

“I think this is the one. I know she is.” He offered the ring to Brad. “You know more about this stuff than either of us. Give me an opinion of the rock.”

Behind the counter, the jeweler began to make noises.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jordan waved him off. “I know the spiel. I’d rather hear what my pal here has to say.”

“I can assure you that stone is an excellent quality. Burmese ruby at three carats, set in eighteen-karat gold. The craftsmanship of the—”

“Why don’t you get me a loupe?” Brad suggested pleasantly. “The guy’s buying an engagement ring. It’s a moment.”

He might not have been happy, but the potential sale had him producing a jeweler’s loupe and offering it to Brad.

Playing it out, Brad hemmed, hawed, and hmmmed before setting both the ring and the loupe on the black velvet pad. “You’re buying yourself a hell of a rock,” he said. “It hits the three C’s—color, cut, clarity, and at three substantial carats, rounds it out nicely. She’ll love it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Wrap it up,” he told the jeweler.

“We should go get a beer now, right?” Flynn glanced warily at the other rings in the glass case. “And Jordan should buy, in a symbolic gesture of . . . oh, hell with all that. I just want a beer.”

“All in good time, my pretty.” Jordan pulled out his wallet, dug out his credit card. “We’ve got another stop to make on the way back.”

THE way he looked at it, he was going to make a clean sweep. A kind of romantic hat trick. He got the girl, he’d bought the ring. Now, he thought as they pulled through the gates of Warrior’s Peak, he was going to see if he could finesse the house.

“This is wild,” Flynn said from the backseat where Moe snored beside him, exhausted by the thrill of the car trip. “I think I’m in some sort of shock.”

“Pretty wild,” Jordan agreed. “But the fact is, I always wanted this place. Even when I was a kid.”

“Okay, before you go in there and make some sort of insane offer, let’s just take one more pass through the routine.” Brad shifted. “Let me point out, once again, that this place is enormous.”

“I like big.”

“It’s isolated.”

“I like isolated.”

“You haven’t asked Dana if she wants to live up here.”

“I don’t have to. I know how she’ll feel about it.”

“It’s like talking to a brick,” Brad muttered. “Okay, if you’re set on going through with this, at least take the I’m-a-big-sucker-with-a-lot-of-money sign off your ass.”

“They’re gods, son.” Jordan parked, pushed open the door. “I don’t think a poker face is going to make much difference.”

“I don’t know why you think they’ll consider selling the place to you,” Brad continued. “They only bought it a couple of months ago. Gods or not, there are the small matters of equity, taxes, capital gains.”

“Listen to the suit.” Flynn grinned as Moe leaped over him and out of the car.

“Shut up. You’re in shock, remember? Takes a good thirty minutes to get down to the Valley from here,” Brad continued.

“The way you drive, it does,” Jordan muttered under his breath.

“I heard that. Thirty minutes,” Brad repeated, “for a mature adult who has respect for the speed limit. And that’s in good weather. Fine for you, you can stay home and write in your underwear. Dana’s going to be running a business in town, six days a week.”

“Six?” Jordan turned from studying the house. “How do you know they’re planning on being open six days?”

“I got that from Zoe in between her sniping at me. The point is, she’s going to have to travel down there most every day. And in the winter—”

“I’ll buy her a four-wheel, a goddamn Humvee. Stop fretting, Mary.”

“Just for that, I hope—if they’re in the market for a buyer—they hose you.”

Rowena opened the door and was already laughing as she bent down to greet Moe. “Welcome! How lovely. Three handsome men and a handsome dog.”

“You call that dog handsome,” Jordan commented. “It must be love.”

“And so it is.” She straightened, smiled brilliantly as she looked into Jordan’s eyes. “So it is. Come in.”

Moe didn’t need a second invitation. He raced by her, skidded on the tiles, bumped into the archway on his turn into the parlor. When they caught up with him, he was curled into a chair, his chin resting on its velvet arm, his tail thumping.

“Hey! Off the furniture, you ingrate.”

Even as Flynn moved over to haul him down, Moe’s big brown eyes shifted to Rowena. His tail thumped harder.

“No, please. He’s perfectly welcome to sit there. After all.” She hurried over to intervene. “After all, he’s a guest.”

“He’s an operator.”

“Yes.” She stroked one of his floppy ears. “And he . . . what’s the phrase? He has my number. No harm. Now what can I offer you? Coffee, tea?” The corner of her lips twitched as she looked at Flynn. “Perhaps a cold beer.”