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“So just to be clear,” Matt said roughly nine minutes after getting Aunt Gracie’s call and breaking the speed limit to get to her house as he imagined every worst-case scenario possible, which made him grateful for Rachel’s company since the majority of his worst-case scenarios involved copious amounts of blood, and she was a nurse, so she probably had a better chance of not passing out, unlike him—especially if his greatest fear had come true and Aunt Gracie had murdered Noah. “When you said there was an emergency...”

“She meant that she needed you and me to pretend to make out on the front porch,” Noah answered. “Now please, ignore your crazy aunt and have some pancakes.”

Rachel giggled as she took a seat at the kitchen table, and Matt allowed his heart rate to return somewhere to normal levels as he took a seat across from her.

So, not an emergency then. He and Rachel could have gone out to breakfast like he’d planned once they finished buying every last mousetrap in a fifty-mile radius like Rachel had planned. But at least Noah and Gracie were feeding them breakfast. And he was spending time with Rachel on her day off. He supposed things were sort of working out as planned.

He shoveled a bite of pancake into his mouth.

“Why do you need Noah and Matt to pretend to make out on the front porch?” Rachel asked, sounding way too amused. Matt shook his head at her. She really shouldn’t encourage his aunt.

“Something for a story I’m working on,” Gracie said. “But honestly, it wouldn’t work with Noah and Matt. I need a girl, of course.”

“Oh. Well, can Matt and I do it then?”

Matt froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. Maybe Rachel should encourage his aunt.

“Can we just enjoy a nice breakfast, please?” Noah asked.

“He’s stalling because he knows I’m going to prove him wrong,” Gracie said from the side of her mouth to Rachel.

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me,” Rachel said out of the side of her mouth to Gracie. “I recognize a good stall from a mile away.”

Well, apparently Matt and Rachel weren’t the only two picking right back up where they’d left off. But then, Gracie did always love Rachel. Unlike his mom, who’d only ever had eyes for Aimee.

“I’m just trying to prevent you from eating crow and cold pancakes all at the same time,” Noah finally retorted when he finished swallowing a giant bite of pancakes. “Coffee? Orange juice?” Noah asked, pointing his finger at Rachel.

“Orange juice, please,” Rachel said.

While Noah poured her a glass, Rachel dug into another pancake. “So what’s the issue? The characters forget where each other’s lips are or something?”

“Oh, they know where their lips are,” Noah said, handing the glass to Rachel. “They’re just going to need to take a road trip to get there. Matt? Coffee? Orange juice? Milk?”

“I don’t understand,” Rachel said to Gracie.

“Maybe some milk,” Matt said to Noah. “But I’ll get it.”

Gracie started explaining the scene to Rachel—something about an old Cary Grant movie, leg issues, and a bunch of porch steps—as Matt went to the fridge for the milk.

After more explanation, Rachel said, “Why can’t you put the girl on the top step and have him pull her down onto his lap? Might be easier?”

Gracie clunked her orange juice to the table. “You too? Really?”

“Told you,” Noah said with a satisfied air.

Before Matt could return to the table with his milk, Gracie was making pirate sounds and directing everyone out to the front porch. “Put down the pancakes. We’re doing this.”

“Can I at least finish my milk?”

“Nope.” Rachel took his glass away and started shoving him toward the front door. “Didn’t you hear? Your aunt’s on a tight deadline.”

“She’s been on a tight deadline for years.”

“I heard that,” Gracie shouted from the kitchen where Noah was still assisting her to her feet.

A few minutes later, Matt found himself seated on the top porch step, Rachel two steps below him, while Gracie watched on like a movie director from the kitchen chair Noah had brought out to the front yard for her.

“Okay, so you’re talking, right?” Gracie said, making talky motions with her hands. “Act like you’re talking.”

“Cut,” Noah immediately responded. “I don’t think our porch steps are average height. Are the steps in your story average height?”

“I don’t know. What’s the average height of a porch step?”

“See? These are the logistics I’m talking about.”

Meanwhile Rachel hadn’t stopped opening and shutting her mouth without making a sound. “We’re not background actors in a movie, you know,” Matt said.

“She said to act like we were talking.”

“Well, act like you’re not a lunatic while you’re at it, please.”

She giggled. “But I don’t know what my character’s supposed to be saying.”

“Hey, what’s the dialogue in this scene?” Matt asked Gracie, but she was still too busy arguing over the average height of a porch step with Noah.

“If Mr. Broad Shoulders built his own house, can’t he make the steps any size he wants?” Gracie said.

“Fine, but I still say he can’t deadlift Ms. Horse Hater up two of them. Not without throwing his back out.”

Rachel frowned at Matt. “Lifting me wouldn’t throw your back out, would it?”

Matt wagged his head side to side in a maybe-maybe not gesture. She smacked his leg.

“They’re kissing,” Gracie shouted at Noah. “Why is it so hard to believe he pulls her onto his lap?”

“Because you said he was cupping her face,” Noah shouted back. “What does he do? Drag her by the jowls?”

Rachel belted out a laugh.

“So what if he does?” Gracie shot back. “Sometimes romance readers just want a sexy jowl-grabbing scene. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Where exactly are your jowls anyway?” Matt said, leaning down to poke Rachel’s cheek.

She slapped his finger away. “Don’t you ever go searching for my jowls again.”

“You know, I actually kind of hope that is dialogue straight out of Aunt Gracie’s story.”

Rachel massaged her cheeks, unable to stop giggling. “My jowls are getting sore.”

“Yeah, well I reckon my back’s about to get sore, because there’s only one way to end this if we ever want to get back to those pancakes.” Especially now that Noah and Gracie had gotten into a debate about whether a tape measure or a yard stick would be more accurate to measure the height of the porch steps.

“Rachel,” Matt shouted loud enough to be heard over Gracie and Noah’s bickering. Loud enough to get their attention. He cupped Rachel’s face, squishing her cheeks so hard that her lips puckered up like a fish. “My little horse-hater darling, I can’t deny it any longer. I love you. I’ve always loved you. And even though I don’t know where our future will take us, hopefully back to the kitchen where we can finish our pancakes, I’ll be happy. So long as I’m with you.”

“Oh Matt, or Mr. Broad Shoulders, or whatever your name is,” Rachel replied with her face still smooshed together in his hands. “You’re the only man who’s ever looked past my jowls to see me for the woman I really am.”

“Oh brother,” Noah muttered.

“Quiet,” Gracie scolded. “See how easy he lifts her now.”

Easy? Yeah, Matt wasn’t so sure about that. Not if he was supposed to drag her up by her face. “Um...” He moved his hands to the top of her head, then the back of her head. Patted her hair.

“What are you doing? Checking me for lice?” Rachel said.

“I’m not sure where to grab.”

“Wow, this is really romantic,” Noah said.

“They’re supposed to be kissing right now. There’d be a lot more embracing. Why aren’t you guys embracing?” Gracie said.

Because Matt didn’t know what to embrace in order to lift her. Her rump would be helpful. But her rump was still currently situated two steps below him. Plus he didn’t imagine grabbing her by the rump would go over any better than grabbing her by the jowls.

“Come on, we’ve got this.” Rachel began tugging the front of his flannel shirt like he was their gym rope in P.E.

Matt’s nose banged into her forehead. “Ow.”

“No using your legs,” Noah said.

“She’s not using her legs,” Gracie said.

“You’re going to need to use your legs,” Matt whispered into a mouthful of her hair. “And you’re going to need to buy me a new flannel shirt.” At least three buttons had popped off. He reached for the belt loops on the back of her jeans.

“You’re giving me a wedgie.”

“Can’t help it. I’m caught up in the throes of passion, baby.” He tugged harder, getting enough leverage to slide his hand under her rump. No way around it. Had to be done if he was going to lift her. He squeezed his eyes shut, channeling all his strength into this feat. “Aaarrr,” he groaned, now sounding like the one who’d turned into a pirate as he slowly lifted her.

“Stop acting like you’re lifting a Buick,” Rachel said, still clutching his shirt.

“Wow,” Matt heard Gracie murmur. “His face looks worse than yours did when you carried the steamer trunk up those stairs.”

“Yeah, well that steamer trunk weighed a ton,” Noah said.

“What are you saying?” Rachel shouted.

Matt was pretty sure spittle had started flying from his lips at this point.

With a yell worthy of a bodybuilder setting a new world record in some sort of dead lift competition, Matt heaved Rachel the rest of the way onto his lap. Then released another guttural yell of victory. Followed by a whimpering, “Sweet mercy, I really may have to call my chiropractor.”

“My hero,” Rachel deadpanned, giving him a hearty pinch on the jowls.

“See? Told you it could be done,” Gracie said.

Noah started a slow clap. “And booy was it sexy.”