Page 39 of Coming Home

Her gaze flicked out the window. Across the property, Elle and Clayton were loading suitcases into the bed of his truck.

She looked in the mirror and wiped her face. Thank the goddess she didn’t wear mascara. There’d be no raccoon eyes to take care of. No evidence of her sadness.

“Natster!” Clayton shouted from across the property, waving his hand at her when she hopped out of her vehicle.

“Clay Pot!” she called, walking toward him.

His expression scrunched up from her use of the nickname. As a child, she’d bestowed many, many nicknames on him.

To him, though, she’d always be Natster. The endearment both warmed and chilled her heart with lukewarm understanding. How could Noah look at her with anything but regret? She was the little sister of his best friend. Nothing more. Even if, for just a few moments today, she’d hoped that was no longer true.

“Clay Pot?” Elle gaped, her hands on her hips.

A smile curled on Nat’s lips. “I also called him Clay Pigeon, and then there was the unfortunate Clay Aikens period. He did not appreciate that one.”

“He was so overrated. Not to mention that ‘Invisible Man’ song was the national anthem for stalkers,” he chuckled, hoisting a suitcase into the trunk.

Lizzie and Fitz barked and danced at their feet. Lowered to her haunches, Nat gave both pups ear scratches. The plump pug snorted while the brown and white pit bull licked her face. No matter what ailed the heart, puppy love was almost always the best cure.

With one last belly scratch for Lizzie, she straightened. “You two are off for your romantic weekend?”

“Yup.” The giant grins perched on their faces were blinding.

To celebrate their one-year anniversary, they rented a cabin on Lake George. For the next week, they and the puppies would enjoy lakeside strolls, campfires, and a lot of something that Nat didn’t want to think about her brother doing.

“We’ll have cell service if you need anything. I’ve asked Noah to stop by to check in on you, and, of course, there’s Mom and Dad,” Clayton said.

Hard pass!The last thing she wanted was Noah stopping by.

She rolled her eyes. “You realize I am almost thirty, and I used to live in Boston. Perry isn’t exactly Dorchester.”

“If it makes you feel better, Noah pops by to say hello”—Elle made air quotes—“when your brother is at the clinic, and we have bad weather. It’ssoobvious Clayton sent him to check in on me.” She nudged his ribs.

“I worry about my girls.” He flung both arms around his fiancée and sister, tucking both close to his chest.

“You’re such an overprotective softy,” Elle cooed.

Alone in the sanctuary of the Little Red Barn, Nat sat on the kitchen floor, its linoleum cool against her legs. The temperature and today’s events coated her body in a salty gloss of perspiration. The day had been so, so much. Almost too much, and she just wanted to put it behind her. The confrontation with Duncan, that scorching hot kiss with Noah…the agonizing rejection at the end of that encounter.

She needed her glue gun and a craft project…stat! But first, she texted Summer. No doubt, she worried about Nat after all that happened.

Me: Sorry about earlier. I’m okay, but I need time to craft this out. Can we do dinner Monday night?

Summer: Of course. One question, though. Is Duncan in the picture still?

Me: GODDESS NO!

There may have been an excessive use of exclamation marks and a GIF of a man being kneed in the balls that accompanied her message. If only she had kneed Duncan in his balls.

How had she wasted her time with him? There were so many warning signs, present and past, that he wasn’t for her. That he wasn’t a good guy.

Hell, within seconds of meeting him again, Summer had assessed him as an asshole. The glower in her gaze when her brown eyes studied Duncan in the bakery telegraphed her instant dislike.

Summer: I’ll cancel the hitman then.

Me: Where’d you find a hitman in Perry?

Summer: The Penny Saver. It was right next to the ad looking for a new milker at Rice Farms.

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