Page 93 of The Deadly Shallows

“True, but I did manage to get a snapshot of it. I’ll find it and show it to you someday,” Nana Jo said to Brooke.

“I’d love that,” Brooke said between spurts of laughter.

Brooke looked so joyous and adorable with tears of laughter rolling down her face that Noah couldn’t fake being stern. One tear rolled over her lip, another beading to it. He longed to kiss the drop away, but caught himself before he did, thank goodness. Oh, he’d be kissing her, because that holdout was long gone, but kissing her in front of his family and colleagues would be awkward. Despite his determination, though, he instinctively moved closer. “You find that funny, huh?”

Brooke tried to settle the laughter, pressing her lips together and holding her breath—like that would contain it. Rather, it only fueled the laughter like a pressurized rocket, and before she knew what was happening, she was doubled over in belly laughter, her eyes filling with tears of joy as she pictured Noah with hot pink lipstick across his cheeks as he patrolled the perimeter of his backyard. The laughter was a wonderful respite from the crushing anguish and fear that had been plaguing her.

Taking a deep inhale and exhale, she stemmed the tide of laughter as Nana Jo announced dinner was ready. Brooke got to her feet, fascinated that tears could be shed both in extreme sadness and extreme joy. She wondered, sometimes, why God created tears that way. To have two vastly opposite reasons behind the same physical reaction. She wondered what else He’d created like that.

A firm hand rested on her shoulder, giving it a playful squeeze. Noah. Warmth filled her. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him—his woodsy scent one of comfort and attraction. If this was any indicator of what a life with Noah would be like—time with his family, playing with the kids, laughing a lot—she yearned for nothing more.

Fiona and Owen raced for the kitchen. Kenzie met them at the edge of the island. “Nope. Go wash up first.”

“Aw, Mom,” Fiona whined.

Kenzie tilted her head, her brows arching.

“Yes, ma’am.” Fiona turned and took Owen—who followed her every word and action—by the hand. The two siblings headed for the hall bath.

Noah started picking up the spilled beans from his and Fiona’s game, as Brooke did the same with Don’t Break the Ice, reaching all across the carpeted floor where Owen’s smashes had landed them.

“Then pick up your games,” Kenzie called after them.

“Yes, ’am,” Owen said, attempting to sound like his sister.

Brooke chuckled and set the pieces she’d been gathering down in a pile by the box.

Noah did the same, knowing better than to argue with Kenzie’s instructions to the kids. He’d tried doing that once or twice . . . or maybe a thousand times, but he’d finally learned. In their house, especially while their dad was deployed, what Mom said went.

Knowing they had a few minutes while the kids washed up and the rest of the adults were chatting in the kitchen, Noah reached out, snaked his arm around Brooke’s curvy waist, and pulled her back against his bent left knee.

“Noah,” she whispered.

“What?” He smiled, loving the feeling of her next to him.

He ran his fingers up her neck, spreading into her silky hair.

She giggled.

“Does that tickle?” He bit back a grin. He loved learning new things about her, loved learning everything about her that he could.

She squirmed but didn’t move out of his hold. “Yes.”

Fiona came skipping down the hall, followed by a half-waddling, half-running Owen.

“Games, please,” Kenzie said.

Brooke straightened, and Noah glanced over his shoulder in his sister’s direction to realize everyone—literally everyone—was lined up at the kitchen bar, their collective attention on him and Brooke.

He inhaled and leaned forward. “We should probably head in for dinner,” he whispered against her ear.

“That tickles too,” she murmured, turning to face him. Her gaze slipped over his shoulder and red rushed her cheeks as it landed on everyone staring in their direction.

Thankfully, they had the decency to at least pretend they were looking at something else, Finn choosing the ceiling of all things.

Noah shook his head, suppressing a laugh as Owen lunged into Brooke, tackling her in one of his baby bear hugs.

“Hey, big guy,” she said, ruffling his blond curls.