Olive sank as far down into the porch swing as she could without sliding straight onto the ground, desperate to duck beneath the line of sight from the white picket fence out front.
“What on earth are you doing?” Gram questioned her.
“Playing invisible. You didn’t see a single trace of me—I’m not even here—”
“I’d beg to differ,” a male voice cut through her rambling.
That unbearably familiar tone pulled up every bright, glowing memory from the best chapters 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 herself had wrecked her entire life. His eyes were slitted tight, his jaw set in a harsh, rigid line, every muscle along his jawline pulled taut with tension.
“Olive Porter, in the flesh,” he said flat, zero warmth or emotion coloring his words. That meant she was twice as furious—annoyance stacked on top of raw irritation.
Though truthfully… he’d never ruined her life. She was the one who’d ruined his.
“It’s lovely to see you again,” Gram greeted him warmly. “It’s been ages since you’ve come back to town.”
Noah flipped on his most practiced, charming grin. “Adele. You look fantastic as ever.”
Gram, like nearly every woman who crossed his path, instantly fell victim to his rugged, effortless charm and broke into a bright beam. “You’re quite the smooth talker, aren’t you.” She flicked a glance over at Olive. “Is your Matt half this sweet?”
For starters, Noah had never possessed an ounce of soft sweetness in his bones. Sharp-witted, quick with a joke, thrillingly dangerous—absolutely. Sweet? Not a chance. Second, why had she ever thought inventing a fake boyfriend was a smart move? Why couldn’t she have simply admitted she didn’t need a man to complete her life? She truly didn’t, not even in the slightest. Hindsight really was 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, hauling her gently to her feet and leading 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 into the cookie she’d clung onto mid-escape.
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