“The best.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I think you like it here.”
“I do.” He set the water to boil on the stove after filling the saucepan since Will didn’t have a kettle. She made a note to ask Reba for one. “The people are friendly, and the nature is spectacular, to say nothing of the fishing. ’Tis the truth that I like the slower way of life after living in Edinburgh. Plus, it’s closer to my family here in the States.”
“Mm-hmm, and you and Will get along pretty good,” she mused, grabbing a jar of local honey. “I haven’t wanted to contemplate us not working together.”
“Neither have I, lass. The podcast would be the toughest, and the in-person consultations with clients we both treat. We’ll have to see how things go. Will knows he can’t offer yet. You and Ben have more healing to do.”
More motivation surely. “Probably. Hell. Yeah, a whole lot.”
“Lad’s ashamed of his behavior, and he feels guilty. Not easy for anyone to hold, least of all a strong man. I happen to know firsthand.”
She put her hand on his back. “You’ve done damn good, letting the past go.”
“Thanks.”
He busied himself with preparing the tea. Neil understood loss. To have survived what he did, even though his brother didn’t…was crushing.Neil hadn’t known how to stop the bleeding, and they’d been unable to call an ambulance because there was no cell reception. How did you come back from something like that?
Yet his tragedy was another reason they’d bonded. Heknew what it felt like to lose a sibling. Worse, to be the one who survived.
Thankfully, Neil’s family didn’t blame him for living—like Hannah felt her parents did sometimes. They had a resilience hers never had.
“What does a person bring as a gift when they’re invited to dinner in Montana?” he asked, handing her a steaming cup of tea.
Inside, she felt a heart spark. She knew exactly what she was going to bring tonight.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Ben was watching the door.
So was his son.
Cooper had been running on about all the plants and flowers they’d picked, his smile so wide it was almost contagious. Hearing how much his boy was setting his sights on Hannah gave him a strange feeling in his chest—so did knowing he needed to find a moment alone to apologize.
Depending on that reception, he was trying to decide what to do next.Show her the good stuff,Gramps had said. But would she laugh in his face? Smack him? Gramps said it wasn’t rocket science. Ben wanted to believe him.
When he heard the knock on the door, Cooper shot out of his chair with Tank trailing him.
Rising a bit stiffly out of his chair, Will shot him a look. “You ready?”
Not really. My heart is knocking against my chest.“As I’ll ever be.”
His brother arched his brow as he walked by. “Ben, your fly is open.”
He looked down and cursed as Will’s boyish laughter filled the air. It wasn’t. “You doofus,” he muttered.
As he stepped out of the family room to the entryway, he stopped in the doorway. She’d worn a navy dress that fit her curves and stopped a few inches above her knees—one he didn’t know. When she’d been his, he’d been familiar with every piece of clothing she wore. New dresses on a date had always been a delightful surprise, knowing she’d loved to both tease and tantalize him. All that was different.
What wasn’t different? She still took his breath away.
Her auburn hair was curling down around her shoulders and flowing down her back. He could see the faint tinge of mascara to her lashes, highlighting the green of them even more, one of her old tricks, she liked to say. She’d applied a tinge of deep pink to her full lips, ones he still wanted to kiss. There was a touch of sunburn on her nose and a new smattering of freckles.
Their gazes caught and held, and attraction crackled. He watched her chest rise with her rapid breath. She was as nervous as he. Good. Some comfort there. Cooper had hold of Hannah’s hand, he realized after finally being able to breathe again himself.
Will was talking to Neil. Then he felt a gentle hand touch his back. Turning, he found Grams there with a smile on her round, wrinkled face. Her glasses sported a smudge, a little rouge dotted her cheeks, and she’d donned a Sunday dress of pale peach.
“Come along, dear heart,” she ordered softly, taking his hand. “Good idea on shaving tonight, by the way.”
He’d been hoping Hannah would know he’d made the effort.
