Page 40 of Coming Home

Gratitude and humor gentled the ire that still lurked from dealing with Duncan. For so many reasons, she was lucky to have Summer as a friend. This woman had a way of reading people quickly, discovering who they truly were. She saw things that Nat missed or, perhaps, ignored.

“There were signs,” she mumbled to herself, rising from the floor.

How had she missed them? In the midday light filtering in from the large kitchen window, the unseen potholes of Duncan’s personality were illuminated. Not just who he was now but who he’d been then. The things she ignored. Traits she’d pretended weren’t what they really were.

Shuffling to the table, she pulled out her crafting supplies. Creating occupied her hands and her brain. It allowed her to focus on something else, which in turn provided clarity. With each delicious cut of blue cardstock, her mind drifted to Noah’s oceanic eyes.

Get out of my head, Noah!She gnawed her lower lip and pushed into decorating the bridal shower scrapbook she was making for Elle and Clayton. The rip of paper drowned out the thoughts ofhe who shall not be namedbecause he already occupied way too much real estate in her head…and heart.

A gentle rap at the door barged into her crafty Zen headspace. Barefoot, she padded across the hardwood floor.

Opening the front door, she almost gasped. “Noah?”

“I don’t regret you,” he rasped, reaching out and pulling her into his arms. “I only regret waiting this long to do this.”

Nat’s breath sprinted out of her.

His warm, full lips pressed to hers in an unapologetic kiss. Raising to tiptoes, she encircled his neck. His hands moved to her hips, hoisting her into the air, and her short legs wrapped around his middle like there was no place they’d rather be. The heat of his kisses glided down her jawline to the column of her throat.

Gripping her tight, he strode into the Little Red Barn. His heel connected with the door, and it slammed behind them.

Need and reason wrestled inside her. A conversation needed to happen… But hadn’t they done enough talking? They’d had a lifetime of talking and only a moment of kissing. Couldn’t she just enjoy the kissing?

“Wait,” she whined, pulling her face from his.Some days she hated her sense of reason!“We should talk,” she breathed, annoyed with herself.

His kiss-swollen lips hung open. “O…kay.”

Nat remained in his arms. Heat pulsed in the scant inches between them. Each breath seemed to protest the talking. Legs around him and his hands gripping her ass, she understood the hesitation. It would be far easier to just let her body have control, but her heart and brain were too strong.

If they were going to speak, she needed to dismount Noah. “You should put me down for this convo.”

He lowered her to the floor. “Who should start?”

Tugging down her shorts that had ridden up from wrapping around him like a horny Rally Monkey at a baseball game, she mumbled, “Probably me since I suggested it.”

He gestured to the couch. Noah sat on one side, body angled toward Nat, who sat with her legs crossed on the other end.

Clutching a green checkered pillow to her middle, she exhaled. “So, you kissed me.”

“And you kissed me back.” A flirty lilt shaded his tone.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was ten.” She cringed.

Was she saying this aloud? To Noah?

Girl, he had his tongue in your mouth. You can tell him this.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since you were eighteen.”

Her heart galloped like a racing greyhound.

“What you saw in my eyes the night of Evan’s funeral wasn’t regret for you. It was disgust for my actions. You were eighteen. You were grieving. I should have been comforting you, but instead, I almost made a move on you. I was twenty-eight. I should have known better,” he confessed.

Nat squeezed the pillow closer to her chest. “But you did comfort me. You didn’t do anything wrong. You never crossed a line.”

“But I had. That entire week I watched you…” He looked away. “It wasn’t appropriate.”

“Because I’m Clayton’s little sister.”

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