I couldn’t believe it. If it had been me, I would’ve burned anything related to me after I’d turned down his marriage proposal. Proposals, plural. “That goofy sunrise painting?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. And don’t call my painting goofy.” His voice was low, and there was a . . . a light in his eyes, and that half grin of his was . . . affecting me. Do not underestimate the power of a crooked smile, ladies and gentlemen.

He and Gillian broke up because he wouldn’t get rid of my painting.

Man, oh man alive.

“You . . . you . . . you wanna make out?” I croaked.

Such eloquence. It did the trick, though. Noah stood up, which was good, because my knees were already useless and weak and tingling. He came across the room and slowly, so slowly, knelt in front of me, held my face in his big, warm, manly hands and kissed me.

It had been so long.

Our kissing was slow and hot, and yet I was desperate for him. I’d missed him so much, my wild boy. One of my hands clenched in his hair, and the other was against his neck, feeling the fast, hard thud of his pulse. He tasted so good, felt so good, so right, it was like coming home. I couldn’t think of anything except him, his mouth, his hands. Us. The two of us.

When he stopped kissing me, he wiped under my eyes with his thumbs, because I guess I was crying a little. “Oh, Special,” he said, “you’ll be the end of me.”

Then we were kissing again. I slid to the floor, my bones useless, and we tangled into each other as if no time had ever passed and also like we’d never so much as touched. Every brush of his fingers, every time he kissed my lips, my neck, my hand, jolts of liquid electricity surged and hummed in my veins. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him so tight, and it still wasn’t close enough.

When his hand worked its way under my shirt, I managed to remember—with great difficulty—that my father was upstairs and prone to wandering the house at night. “My dad,” I whispered.

“Got it. Just like old times,” Noah murmured against my mouth, and I felt him smiling.

Old and new. He felt different now, bigger, stronger, heavier, but he was Noah, my Noah, and let’s be honest. He’d had my heart since before I knew what love was.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Barb

You could’ve knocked me over with a feather when Sadie took charge like that. I’ll admit I had no idea she could afford to pay for a weekend at this real nice hotel, no sir.