“Oh God,” I mutter under my breath. “Here we go.”
“Relax,” Connor says quietly, setting the bags down. “It’s just your family.”
I take a deep breath and try to match his composure as my mother and sister approach, practically jogging across the gravel driveway.
“Noah, sweetheart!” Mom calls as she reaches us, immediately pulling me into a hug that smells like flowers and that fancy fabric softener she special-orders from France. She steps back to look at me, her hands still on my shoulders. “How was the drive? Did you find it okay? I told your father we should’ve sent better directions.”
“It was fine, Mom,” I say. “Connor drove.”
My mother’s attention shifts instantly to the man standing beside me, and I watch her eyes widen as she takes him in. Connor, with his dark hair, a shadow of stubble, and the tattoos covering his arms, looks like the kind of man my mother would politely cross the street to avoid—and exactly the kind she secretly reads about in those dog-eared grocery-store romances she insists are “just something easy.”
“You must be Connor,” she says, already leaning in to hug him too. Connor accepts it with surprising ease, a hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Noah told us absolutely nothing about you, which is just like him—keeping all the good things to himself.”
My face burns. “Mom—”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Caldwell,” Connor says, his accent making my mother’s smile widen even more.
“Please, it’s Caroline,” she insists. “Mrs. Caldwell makes me feel ancient.”
Maya steps forward, looking Connor up and down with open curiosity before holding out her hand. “Maya,” she says simply. “The better-looking sibling.”
Connor smiles. “I’ve heard many nice things about you.”
“All lies,” Maya replies with a wide grin.
“Oh, Connor, that accent,” my mother gushes. “Are you Irish?”
“Yes,” Connor says. “I’m from Kilmore Quay. It’s a small fishing village in the southeast.”
“That sounds absolutely charming,” Mom says, shooting me a quick, meaningful look that promises a conversation later. “What do you do, Connor? Noah mentioned you but wouldn’t tell us anything.”
“I’m a doctor at St. Vincent’s Hospital,” Connor replies.
“A doctor!” Mom looks at me with so much approval I want to sink into the ground. “Noah, you’ve been holding out on us.”
“Mom,” I say through gritted teeth. “Can we maybe get inside before you interrogate him?”
“Of course, of course,” she says, waving a hand. “Your room’s all ready. You two must be tired after the drive.”
Connor bends to pick up our bags again, balancing both in one hand. As he straightens, his free hand settles briefly at the small of my back. It’s a subtle gesture—casual, almost unconscious—but I stiffen anyway and step away a little too quickly, heat creeping up my neck for no good reason.
“The place looks great,” I blurt out, avoiding his gaze. “Has everyone else arrived?”
“Not yet,” Mom says, her eyes moving between us with barely contained excitement, oblivious to the moment that just passed between us. “The Scotts should be here by dinner—Brad called this morning to confirm.”
With that, Mom loops her arm through mine, tugging me away from Connor toward the cottages, clearly gearing up to gossip. I catch the mischievous glint in her eye and my stomach drops.
Three steps. That’s how long she waits before loudly whispering, “He’s gorgeous,” not actually trying to be quiet. “And a doctor? Noah, why didn’t you tell us about him sooner?”
“Mom,” I hiss, glancing back at Connor, who’s trailing behind us with both our bags. His face gives nothing away, but I’d bet my last dollar he can hear every word. “Please, not now.”
“What?” She squeezes my arm. “I’m just excited for you.”
Maya falls into step beside Connor, already asking him something about his tattoos. Perfect. At least he’s distracted, so he won’t hear Mom embarrassing me.
“We put you two in the East Cottage,” Mom says, gesturing toward the smallest of the three houses. “It’s the coziest one, right on the water. Your dad and I are in the MainCottage with Maya, and Brad and Maria will be in the West Cottage.”
I glance at her. “Just Brad and Maria?” I ask carefully. “Isn’t Rick coming?”
