Page 25 of When Love And Destiny Collide

I smile, thinking about the fact that I made both just this morning.

After he pours me a glass of lemonade, I watch him move around the kitchen, slicing steak and chopping onions, bell peppers, avocado, and tomatoes.

I've never been so captivated by a man before, mesmerized by his effortless charm in his staple khaki pants and a blue T-shirt that perfectly highlights his strong physique. All six foot two inches of him is gorgeous, with wavy hair that I know is soft to the touch. His rugged face and those eyes—they seem to look straight into my soul. And the way he kisses me—well, I may be young and inexperienced, but it's clear that I'm falling for thisman. I'm falling hard and fast, and I know without a doubt that I want him in my life.

He loves his son with a fierce protectiveness and a tenderness that melts my heart whenever I see them together. Davey's family might be unconventional, but Noah has created a world for his son where he feels completely secure, safe, and loved.

“Do you mind if we have some leftover steamed rice from last night’s dinner with the fajitas?” His question gently pulls me from my reverie, his voice a soothing balm to my swirling thoughts.

"No, of course not," I say, glancing into his golden-brown eyes. I love the way he looks at me. Like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world. He makes me feel, what? Cherished, wanted, loved.

He sets the plate in front of me. "This looks delicious," I say, my eyes taking in the bowl filled with thin slices of grilled steak, onions, and bell peppers nestled on a bed of rice and topped with fresh tomatoes, sour cream, and avocado.

"After we finish eating, we can pick up a few of your things so you can stay with us for the next week."

"Noah, I can't—"

"This isn't up for debate. At least until you can walk around without the crutches, you’re staying with us."

"I can't climb the stairs," I protest, hoping he'll reconsider.

"You decorated this house from top to bottom, remember? You know the downstairs den was converted into a master bedroom. I took one of the rooms upstairs because I didn't want Davey sleeping up there alone. You can stay down here. It's perfect for you."

"Okay," I say, "but only for a few days."

"Now that that's settled," he replies, "tell me more about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" I ask.

"Everything," he says, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

"I'm an only child," I begin, my voice unsteady. "My mother was born with a heart condition that should've made having a child impossible. She met my dad when her family bought a vacation home in Mérida—he was their real estate agent. They got married, but when she got pregnant, she wanted to move back to New York to be near her family and her medical team. He refused, so they divorced."

"Are you close with your father?" he asks, his tone gentle.

"He's a good man," I reply, "but he’s in Mérida, and I’m here."

"Like Davey and Marian," he says quietly.

"Exactly. I know what it's like."

"Do you see him often?" he asks.

"He visits a few times a year—my birthday, summer, the holidays. We talk on the phone several times a week."

"Tell me about your mom." His voice softens, knowing this part is difficult.

"She passed away three years ago," I say, my chest tightening. "She always said she was living on borrowed time, just long enough to be my mom."

"You have her eyes?" he asks.

"I got my blue eyes from both of them," I say, a smile tugging at my lips. "Mom was Irish and Italian—my skin tone and temper are all her. But I think I take after Dad more, especially with the eyes. He's Spanish, moved to Mexico in his twenties."

"Your beauty takes my breath away," he murmurs, his voice like a caress.

"Thank you," I whisper, the warmth in his gaze reaching my heart.

"Do you have any extended family?" he asks.

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