Page 11 of Coming Home

Noah’s stoic face erupted in a million-watt smile, and laughter rumbled as he pointed to the sign proclaiming, “That’s my girl!”

He’d never called her “his girl” before. It was always “Nat” or “Little Sis.” It would be eight years before he called her “his girl” again. It would also be the last time. The memory ofthatmoment ten years ago both soothed and tormented.

Nat’s cell pinged, pulling her from the walk down crush-memory lane.

Duncan: Call me impatient. Dinner this Wednesday?

A hesitant giddiness accompanied the message. Duncan Ellis was asking her out. Dinner would not be a platonic catch-upsession. It was the first flick of a lighter to rekindle what had once been.

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Did she want that old flame to reignite?

Nat lifted her head at the sound of a soft rap on the front door. Placing her phone on the coffee table, she stood and walked to the door.

Her breath caught. “Noah.”

Of course, he stole her breath. He stood there in all his sexy small-town-hero glory, holding a bouquet wrapped in the signature rose-patterned paper of the Village Rose Florist. Dark stubble outlined the contours of his strong jawline. A button-up shirt that matched his blue eyes molded to his muscular frame. His throat was exposed by the unbuttoned collar, and the rolled sleeves of his shirt revealed corded forearms.

He was the living, breathing embodiment of her fantasies. How often had she daydreamed of him standing at her door, dressed like the handsome lead of a rom-com, and holding flowers? How often had she fantasized about him saying, “It’s you,” and taking her lips in a long kiss?

Only he wasn’t dressed up for her. He was here for the tea.

He will never be for me.Nat stiffened. To him, she was only Clayton’s little sister. Someone to protect. Someone to not take seriously.

“You look pretty,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her. “May I come in?”

Disarmed by his compliment, she stepped to the side to let him in. “Are those for the tea? Did Willa wrangle you into helping with decorations?” A soft sigh captured her tone.

Ugh! Don’t be that girl. Willa’s nice. Noah’s nice. They deserve each other.She glanced downward, focusing on her hot pink ballet flats.

He handed her the arrangement. “They are for you. An apology for last night. I’m really sorry.”

She took them. “Noah?—”

“I know what you’re going to say.”

“Well, if you know what I’m going to say, then you don’t need me here for this conversation,” she sniped.

“Damn it, Nat.” He took the flowers back and stomped to the small island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the open space and set them down. Sucking in a deep breath, he placed his hands flat on the counter as if anchoring himself. “Why are you so pissed at me? It’s not like you to get so angry. Are you okay?”

The earnestness in his words softened the tension in her muscles. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said, deflated.

Twisting to face her, he leaned on the counter. Forehead creased, he studied her. “No, you’re not, and it’s not. Talk to me.”

His gaze was like a thief stealthily breaking into a safe, eager to coax all her secrets out.

He took two steps forward and then stopped. “We’ve always been able to talk to each other. You’re one of my favorite people.”

“You’re one of my favorite people.” A tiny quake trembled in her voice.

“Nat, what’s going on? I know I stepped over the line about Duncan last night, but you were tense before then. You weren’t smiling last night. Not the real Nat smile.”

The real Nat smile?She moved her fingers to her lips, tracing their outline. “You really do see so much, don’t you?”

“I see you,” he said, his stare tight on her, almost possessive.

What?Her heart thundered. Surely Clayton and Elle could hear the erratic thump in the farmhouse. Hell, her parents may hear it from their house two miles away.

The reaction her body had to him wasn’t new, but the way he looked at her was. What did his attention mean? Was it just more of someone with the protective gene looking out for someone as, say, a little sister?Probably.Everyone saw her as the youngest Owens, a little girl. Why would he be any different?

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