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Another few steps and the kitchen came into view. The room was larger than she’d expected, with stainless-steel appliances, black countertops, and a dining room set by the window. A guy in jeans and a blue T-shirt stood in front of the stove. From her position, she couldn’t see his face, but based on what Nate said earlier, it had to be Pinto. Two large frying pans were on the burners: one sizzled with the scent of bacon, while the other was loaded with what she assumed to be pancakes. To the right, a coffeemaker gurgled, the pot nearly full.

As if sensing their presence, Pinto looked over his shoulder. He smiled, the whiteness of his teeth a stark contrast to his dark beard stubble. “Hey, Mamácita. How you doing this morning?”

“I’m good, thanks.” She gestured to the stove. “Are those the world-famous pancakes I keep hearing about?”

“Yep, best damn pancakes you’ll ever eat. It’s my mamá’s top-secret recipe. What’s your preference, strawberries or chocolate chip?”

Dorcas said, “Strawberries,” at the same time Nate said, “Chocolate chip.”

“You got it. Strawberry pancakes coming up next. As for you—” He waved a hand in the air, and Dorcas could have sworn she saw a flash of pink. “I ain’t making you shit.”

Nate barked out a laugh. “Oh, come on. You would have done the same thing to me if the positions were reversed.”

“That’s beside the point.” Pinto moved the pancakes off the frying pan and added them to a plated stack on the counter. “As long as I got pink nails, you don’t get special pancakes.”

“But I still get pancakes?”

Pinto hesitated, and then gave a begrudging, “I suppose.”

“I can live with that.” Nate opened the fridge and reached for a can of Coke. “Dorcas, what do you want to drink?”

“Coffee’s fine, thanks.”

He rooted around the cabinets until he found a mug with a faded Army logo. “You like it with a bunch of crap in it, right?”

“If by crap, you mean milk and sugar, then yes.”

She heard a door opening down the hall, and less than a minute later, Jackson strolled into the kitchen in gray sweatpants and nothing else. Yawning, he scratched the back of his shaved skull, and then gave a big toothy grin when he noticed her at the table.

His smooth baritone filled the room. “Morning, Miss Dorcas. Have you had Pinto’s pancakes yet? They’re the stuff of legend.”

“Not yet, but that’s about to change in just a few minutes.”

“That’s about to change right now.” Pinto set a plate filled with a huge stack of strawberry pancakes and at least six strips of bacon in front of her. Then he picked up a big bottle of syrup and put that in front of her as well. “Anything else I can get you?”

A second stomach?She kept the thought to herself, because she didn’t want him to think she was ungrateful. She’d try her best to finish them all, but she doubted her stomach had that much capacity. “Oh, no, that’s plenty. They smell delicious. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome. You want more, just say the word.” He returned to the stove to start a new batch.

Nate set a mug of coffee to the left of her plate and claimed the seat on her right. His plate was loaded with as many pancakes as hers. No bacon, which might explain why he snatched a strip of hers. “Don’t worry; I’ll help clean your plate.”

She gave him a look as she picked up the bottle of syrup. “What makes you think I can’t finish it?”

He shrugged as he snatched another strip of bacon. “Hey, I’m just trying to help. You’re kind of small, and that’s an awful lot of food.”

“You just want some of my strawberry pancakes.”

“Maybe.” He grinned, totally unrepentant. “Five bucks says you’ll tap out before your plate’s empty.”

Call it pride—her mother would have called it pigheadedness—but she’d never been able to walk away from a bet. “You’re on.”

A short time later, Dorcas was questioning the wisdom of her wager. Not because the pancakes weren’t delicious—quite the contrary; by far, they were the best she’d ever eaten—but because her stomach was full to the point of bursting.

Nate continued to watch her like a hawk, his plate clean and a smug expression on his face. “You ready to tap out?”

“Not even close.” That was a lie. She just wasn’t ready to admit defeat. Maybe if she sat here for a few more minutes, her stomach would empty out enough for her to finish. It was a long shot, but it was her only hope.

Jackson leaned over and took a huge forkful of pancakes from her plate.