Page 17

Nate

T he smell of grilled ribs and fresh cornbread hit me the second I stepped into Max’s backyard. Tessa had the picnic tables decked out in red-checkered cloths, and someone—probably Axel had already opened the cooler and was handing out beers like it was a mission.

“You sure she’s coming?” Max asked, flipping a burger with one hand while cradling a bottle of barbecue sauce in the other.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing down the long gravel driveway for the fifth time. “She said she’d be here.”

He smirked. “You’ve only checked your phone twelve times in ten minutes. You wanna go sit on the porch and stare at the horizon like a golden retriever?”

“I might,” I said, but the words barely left my mouth before I saw her.

Willa stepped out of her old pickup in that flowy sundress—the one that did dangerous things to my heart—and standing proudly in the bed of the truck like she owned the world was Pancake the goat, leashless, of course.

Axel nearly choked on his beer. “You brought a date and a goat?”

“Damn right I did,” I said, already heading her way.

She smiled at me like I was the only person here, and hell, if that didn’t feel good.

“You made it,” I said, taking the pie tin from her hands.

“Pancake insisted,” she said, then added under her breath, “And I didn’t want to spend the whole day wondering what it would’ve been like if I’d said no.”

I leaned in. “You look beautiful.”

She looked away shyly. “You clean up okay too, grease monkey.”

“C’mon,” I said, touching the small of her back. “I’ll introduce you to the circus.”

And they were exactly that—Max, Axel, Jack, and the rest of the guys all lined up like they were evaluating new recruits. Tessa grinned, arms crossed, clearly amused.

“Everyone, this is Willa,” I said. “And that’s Pancake. She goes where Willa goes.”

The goat promptly trotted across the yard and tried to climb the picnic table.

“I’ll get her,” Willa said, but Max waved her off.

“She’s fine. She can have Axel’s seat.”

Axel frowned. “Why me?”

“Because the goat are less likely to make sarcastic comments during grace.”

Willa laughed, and just like that, she fit in. Eloise stepped out on the patio, looking like she was ready to pop. I took her hand and walked with her to Willa.

“Willa, this is my sister Eloise Raider; she’s married to Jack.”

“Eloise, I’m so happy to meet you. I have seen you at the Farmers Market before.

“I’m so happy to meet you, too, Willa. I always buy from your stand. I love your soap and candles. Let’s help Tessa.”

She helped Tessa set out food, asked Max about the garden, and didn’t even flinch when Jack asked if she could wrangle a loose chicken from the coop.

But then I noticed her smile falter. She was talking to a woman I didn’t know.

Blonde. Pretty. A little too friendly.

“Who’s that?” I asked Axel, who was munching on cornbread like he hadn’t just swallowed a rack of ribs.

“Kaitlyn. She’s Frasier’s cousin. She had just returned from Florida and was already trying to hit on Jack, Max, and me. Pretty sure you’re next.”

I watched as Kaitlyn laid her hand on Willa’s arm and said something that made Willa shift back slightly.

I didn’t wait. I made my way over, slid an arm around Willa’s waist, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Everything okay?” I asked her quietly.

“Fine,” Willa said. “She was just telling me that girls like me don’t usually last long around here. That Navy SEALs don’t do well with… quiet types.”

I turned to Kaitlyn. “Good thing Willa isn’t quiet. She just hides it better than most.”

Kaitlyn blinked, smiled tightly, and wandered off toward Axel—poor guy.

Willa looked up at me. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did,” I said. “Because you belong here. And anyone who can’t see that can go choke on a hotdog.”

Her eyes shimmered, and I saw it—that little crack in her guarded heart starting to open up.

Pancake let out a dramatic bleat like she agreed, then promptly knocked over a cup of lemonade.

“She does that when she wants attention,” Willa said.

I grinned. “So do I.”

She laughed, then leaned in and kissed me, soft and certain.

And in that moment, under the strings of porch lights and the sound of friends arguing over ribs, I stopped worrying about moving too fast.

Because I wasn’t falling anymore.

I’d already fallen.