Olive huddled as deep into the porch swing as she possibly could, just barely avoiding slipping straight onto the ground, desperate to stay out of sight from the white picket fence at the front. “What on earth are you doing?” Gram asked her. “Playing invisible. You didn’t catch even a hint of me—I’m not even here—” “I’d beg to differ,” a male voice cut through her rambling. That unbearably familiar tone yanked up every bright, glowing memory from the best days of her youth. And every agonizing memory from the worst ones, too. She cringed and lifted her gaze upward. Noah stood before her, looking far too put-together for someone she’d once convinced had ruined her entire life. His eyes were slitted tight, his jaw set in a harsh, rigid line, every muscle along his jaw pulled taut with tension. “Olive Porter, in the flesh,” he said flat, zero warmth or emotion in his words. That made her twice as furious—annoyance piling on top of raw irritation. Though truthfully… he’d never ruined her life. She was the one who’d ruined his. “It’s so good to see you again,” Gram greeted him warmly. “It’s been ages since you’ve come back to town.” Noah flashed his most practiced, charming grin. “Adele. You look fantastic as ever.” Gram, like nearly every woman who crossed his path, instantly fell for his rugged, effortless charm and broke into a bright smile. “You’re quite the smooth talker, aren’t you.” She flicked a glance at Olive. “Is your Matt half this sweet?” For starters, Noah never had an ounce of soft sweetness in his bones. Sharp-witted, quick with jokes, thrillingly dangerous—absolutely. Sweet? Not a chance. Second, why had she ever thought making up a fake boyfriend was a smart move? Why couldn’t she have just admitted she didn’t need a man to complete her life? She truly didn’t, not even in the slightest. Hindsight really is a cruel curse. “Matt’s far gentler and sweeter than you’ll ever be.” Noah only shot her a smug, taunting smirk, the infuriating man. “I need a word with you alone.” Olive grabbed another cookie from the tray. “I’m fully occupied right now.” But he’d already wrapped his fingers around her wrist, hauled her gently to her feet and led her away with that uneven, strained gait of his. A sharp, twinging ache shot straight through her chest at the sight of his limp. Stupid, traitorous heart. She must have made some small, involuntary sound, because he glanced back over his shoulder, caught the pained flicker across her face, and his own expression hardened instantly. “Feeling sorry for me all of a sudden?” “Not even remotely.” She bit down hard into the cookie she’d clung onto mid-escape.
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