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He glances into the dining hall and takes in the space. “Wow.”

Why does that little “Wow” feel like validation? “Probably looks a little different than you remember, huh?”

“Yeah. A lot different,” he says, walking further into the room. “This is amazing.”

“The lodge has great bones.” I turn and admire the space, thinking about all the hours and hours of work that went into it.

“Yeah, but Hattie, this looks like a completely different building. This was the old hunting lodge we used to camp out in?” he says. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Did you come up with all the changes?”

Well, crap. I like that he’s interested. I like that he’s impressed.

I’m not supposed to like anything about him.

Maybe I can soften a little, right? Maybe I can stop myself from being a total jerk and still keep him at an arm’s length.

“Uh, yeah,” I say. “I did. Been dreaming about it for a long time and finally admitted it out loud.” I take a few more steps into the large dining hall on the main level. Around the perimeter is the kitchen and a sitting area, which will be community spaces.

“Most of the changes have been cosmetic,” I say. “We renovated the six guest rooms on the second floor, plus the two loft spaces above them. They all have the modern luxuries that people have come to expect from a vacation experience.”

“Turn down service and mints on their pillows?” he quips.

“Uh, I was thinking more like Wi-Fi and air conditioning,” I say, dryly. “But ‘the high life’ means different things to different people.”

“I’m just kidding.” He grins. “You know I’m not fancy like that.”

“Oh, I know you aren’t fancy at all,” I tease, and it almost feels like old times.

Almost.

He takes his hat off and pushes his hair back, leaving it messy and disheveled and darn if I don’t want to run my fingers through it. He walks over to the back of the space, staring out the wall of windows facing the backyard. “You should add some of those glamping tents out there by the cabins.”

“Glamping?” I say. “You just said you’re not fancy.” I take a couple of steps toward him, almost like I’m inching toward normalcy with a man I’m determined to stay mad at.

Pop and his grace speech are getting in my head.

“Just an idea.” He holds up his hands. “People love to glamp.”

“That’s a made-up word.”

“Fun to say, though.” A pause. “‘Glamp.’”

I smirk at him, wishing I could shut down the part of me that is so drawn to him and focus on the part that knows he’s so very wrong for me. Why couldn’t I have been attracted to Matt or Tyler or Zach?

Because I compared every single one of them to Noble.

Makes me feel like a stupid girl with a stupid crush on a stupid boy who is never going to like her back. That kind of teenage delusion that makes you hold onto hope that your celebrity crush is going to stroll into your tiny, little town, pick you out of a crowd, fall madly in love with you, and you’ll ride off into the sunset together forever.

That’s not real life, Hattie.

There’s a lull between us, and I can feel him looking at me. When I glance at him, he shifts, and I want to know what he was thinking. He clears his throat. “How’d you, uh, convince your dad to let you do all of this?”

I look around the dining hall. The big, long tables and benches are pushed up against the wall around the perimeter, which only makes the newly refinished wide-planked wood floors look even more beautiful.

“I actually think it was Finn that sealed the deal,” I say, dipping a toe in the waters of friendship.

I can do this. I can be civil.

I’m not heartbroken anymore. I’m an adult.