Jillian Hart - Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl

“No way. I’m not imposing on you like that. You have Nora to look after.”

“She’s a soft spot in my heart, and I let her stay up too long this morning. She’s going to be napping all afternoon, believe me, so I’ll have plenty of free time.” Hope rubbed a smudge of dirt from her cheek with her hands, leaving another bigger smudge. “Besides, I have it on good authority that Nanna loves cheeseburgers. Even older women need their protein.”

“Hamburgers, hamburgers,” the triplets chanted.

“All right, boys, you win. Let’s get you in the truck. And you. Stop encouraging them.” He shot a gaze at Hope, who was carefully treading through the rows of vulnerable new plants.

“Hey, I wanted hamburgers, too.” The wind tousled the dark strands that framed her face.

His chest cinched tight, and he wished he could stop noticing how the sunlight sheened on her velvet hair and caressed the silken curve of her cheek.

But most of all, it was her hands that caught his attention, slim but capable-looking, sensitive but strong. Hands that had helped care for her ailing grandmother, hands that could coax beauty from a camera and hands that he wanted to take in his own.

But that was because he missed Kathy. That was the only explanation. The longing in his heart for a woman’s touch was really the longing for Kathy’s touch, forever lost to him. It wasn’t an attraction to Hope.

“I’ll help get the boys buckled in,” she offered, following the triplets to the truck.

His heart cinched. A part of him knew that it wasn’t Kathy he wanted to touch right now, and as Hope trotted away, offering to race the boys, he wondered what his feelings meant.

He’d asked the Lord to show him the way. Surely these feelings for Hope weren’t God’s answer to his prayers.

“I tried to seat them together,” Matthew whispered as he climbed onto the picnic bench beside her, his breath warm against the outer shell of her ear. “Harold was stubborn.”

“And look at Nanna, she’s talking to Josh and completely ignoring Harold.” Hope snatched an onion ring from one of the waxed paper boxes in the middle of the old weatherworn table. “We’re dismal failures as matchmakers.”

“Good thing we’re not done yet.”

“I’m glad you’re not easily defeated, because neither am I.” Not now that she realized how much her grandmother needed someone in her life, someone to love. And that’s what she would concentrate on. “I know Nanna’s interested in him, but you wouldn’t know it to look at them.”

“Kale, throw that fry and you won’t get more,” Matthew interrupted as one dark-haired little boy held a ketchup-tipped curly French fry in midair, contemplating the merits of lobbing it at Ian and losing his fry privilege completely.

Ian solved the dilemma by flinging a fry at Kale instead and splattering ketchup across the table.

“That’s it, you boys have sat long enough.” Matthew leaped up to prevent any more throwing. “Get up and run off that energy. And stay where I can see you.”

Two identical little boys hopped off the bench, legs pumping, sneakers pounding, tearing through the grass field behind the house. A small plane cut through the wispy white clouds in the blue sky above, and the boys spread their arms like wings, making plane engine noises.

“My, I’d forgotten what fun they are at that age. And so much energy!” Nanna beamed with delight as she watched them. “My son was just like that, always on the go, always thinking. About ran me ragged, he did. How you manage with three of them, I’ll never know. It would take a special woman to be a stepmother to three three-year-olds.”

“Nanna, I think it’s time for you to go upstairs.” Hope snatched another onion ring from the basket and shared a conspiratorial smile with Matthew. He looked ready to set Nanna straight, ready to come to Hope’s aid if she needed him.

Not that she needed him.

Matthew stood alongside her, scooped Josh from the bench and set him on the ground. The little boy raced off to join his brothers, arms spread, soaring through the fresh young grass waving in the wind. “Harold, if you keep an eye on my sons, I’ll carry Nora upstairs.”

“Sure thing.” The older man nodded, pride at his great grandsons alight on his handsome face, before nodding politely to Nanna. “You take care, Nora.”

“Oh, my granddaughter will see to that.” There was no want, no coveting in Nanna’s clear eyes as she smiled.

Hope ached for her grandmother. Harold seemed as if he liked Nanna, and Hope fought disappointment as she took Nanna’s hand.

“She looks too tired.” Matthew appeared at Hope’s side, his strong warm presence unmistakable. “Nora, come lean on me.”

So it was with gratitude that she followed Matthew up the stairs as he cradled Nanna in his arms. The bedroom windows were open to the sun, and the lace curtains fluttered in cadence with the wind. The distant sounds of small boys’ laughter and the hum of engines sounded merry and seemed to fill the lonely old house with a welcome joy.

Hope tugged down the top sheet and stepped back so Matthew could lower Nanna onto the mattress with tender care. Hope’s chest swelled with more than gratefulness and she turned away as a warmth that had nothing to do with appreciation spilled into her veins.

“Bless you, Matthew.” Easing back into her pillows, Nanna pressed her lips together to hide a moan of pain. Kirby rushed in with noontime medication and a glass of water to wash down the collection of pills.

Matthew took the older woman’s aged hand in his and squeezed gently. “You take it easy now and rest. I can’t thank you enough for allowing my boys to stay.”

Nanna’s eyes glistened. “They made this place feel happy, like it used to when my children were young. I can’t tell you what it did for this old heart of mine.”

Matthew eased back to give Kirby room to work, and Hope followed him into the narrow hallway, which was warm from the heat of the day. Feelings she couldn’t name fought for recognition in her heart as she struggled with the locked window at the end of the hall. It wouldn’t budge.

“Let me.” Matthew’s arm brushed hers as he took over, efficiently manhandling the stubborn old lock and lifting the equally obstinate wooden window.

The heat from his brief touch lingered on the outside of her arm and didn’t go away, even when she stepped farther back, even when she rubbed at the spot on her arm. Was it her loneliness making her feel this way? She didn’t like it, not one bit.

“Harold’s going to go ahead with the finishing work. He’s excellent at it.” As if he felt it, too, Matthew backed away, creating distance between them, and his gaze locked on hers, warm and intimate.

Way too intimate. Panic leaped to life inside her. “I’m glad you’re leaving the boys for the rest of the afternoon.”

“It looks like you’re managing.” He caught hold of the banister and hesitated. “I’d like to stop by and check on my mom.”

“Why don’t you give her a call from here, and if she’s still under the weather, I’ll send home some food for her, so she doesn’t have to cook tonight. The refrigerator is packed, thanks to your thoughtful words to the pastor.”

“That’s what friends are for.” He tossed her a slow grin, one that lit up the hazel twinkles in his eyes.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

“Why not, it’s better than being enemies, or adversaries or afraid of the matchmaking women in our lives.”

The confusion coiled in her chest eased. Yes, they were friends. And there was nothing she would like more. Friends were safe. Friends didn’t demand a vulnerable part of your heart.

“Speaking of our matchmaking relatives, I’m going to need your help.” She swept past him, careful not to brush against him, and skipped down the stairs. “I’m going to make a list of all the eligible men in your mom’s age group. I don’t know what to do about Harold. I know Nanna is still interested in him, but Helen is her best friend. That’s the way Nanna is, and I love her for it. So we’ll have to find her someone as nice.”