“You missed breakfast," Jason announced as Trevor stepped into the large busy kitchen filled with Bradfords and food."That's fine. I'm not really hungry," he said, barely aware or caring that all activity in the busy kitchen suddenly stopped as every Bradford in the room, even one year old Cole stopped trying to climb onto the counter to get at the large platter of cookies his mother made to stare at him in disbelief.”

“Mr. Bradford," she said. "I'm not going to propose to you."The twinkle in Mr. Bradford's eyes faded. So did his smile. He managed to keep it on his face. It looked painful."Oh," he said."Mr. Bradford?""Yes?""Would you mind it so very much if...you know...you proposed to me?"The light in Mr. Bradford's eyes jumped to life. He beamed so largely it almost wasn't crooked."If you want.”

“Oh my God! Stop eating that!” “Your trail mix tastes funny,” Trevor said with a cringe. “That wasn’t trail mix, you bastard! That was potpourri!” “Well, that explains a lot,” he said, giving her a sheepish smile as he returned the large wooden bowl back to the side table. She didn’t need to look to know that he’d already eaten half the bowl of potpourri. She didn’t even bother asking him what the hell was wrong with him since she knew the answer. The man was a Bradford. Enough said.”

“You really are the stuff dreams are made of, Hardy Bradford.”

“You got anything more to eat?" He walked into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a cube of butter. Before I could stop him he took a bite. He worked the butter around inn his mouth, then swallowed. "Bit odd," he said, setting the rest of the cube onto the counter.”

“I still have your handkerchief, from the Yuletide.""Raspberries, do you really?"He produced a crumpled, clean handkerchief, and gave it to Azalea. She tried to hand him the watch, but he wouldn't take it."It's still for ransom, is it not?" he said. "I'll collect it when I set the tower again."Azalea smiled, warmth rising to her cheeks. "Well, it has been awfully useful. Thank you, Lord Bradford."He mounted with ease, even with the books, and smiled a crooked smile."Mr. Bradford," he said sheepishly."Mr. Bradford," said Azalea. And now, her cheeks burned. It wasn't unpleasant."Thank you," he said, tipping his hat. "For the pleasant evening.”