Page 5 of Feels Like Home

The lodge is calling my name.

And even though the next two weeks will be physically taxing and nothing like a vacation, I still have that feeling of freedom, like the one you get when school’s out for summer or you clock out before Christmas break.

For the next two weeks, I’m the boss.

I call the shots.

I can have a darn Dr Pepper if I want to.

And I’ll finally get to see this big idea of mine come to life.

I walk into Seb’s and pick up a shopping basket, then pause. Something’s weird. There’s no cashier behind the counter. The place seems empty—not a single customer that I can see.

Is Seb’s being robbed? Is that why the women outside were all staring at the door?

I pull out my phone, creeping further into the store, and as I move to the back, I peer through the jars of salad dressing on the shelf in front of me when I see a small group of people standing in a circle right in front of the Jay Brothers ice cream freezer.

Not unlike the group of women outside, they seem to be fixed on something—or someone—and now my curiosity is piqued.

I move the salad dressing out of the way to get a better look, trying to figure out what they’re doing without actually putting myself in the middle of it.

I hear an older man’s angry voice. “You might be a big deal in some circles, or important to some people wherever it is you decided to squat, but not here, Mister Kane.”

I gasp and duck lower. Is he talking about Noble? Noble Kane?

What the heck?

Without thinking, I stand up straight and peer around the aisle toward the voices.

And there he is.

Older. Bigger. More of a man than the boy who left years ago. I’ve seen him a few times in photos or on TV, but this in-person version catches me off-guard.

“I understand that, sir, and I promise, I’m not here to cause trouble,” Noble says, patiently and . . . respectfully?

The half a minute I’ve seen him here is colliding with everything I know—or thought I knew—about him.

I should go. I should turn and walk out. Without my coffee. Without my creamer. Without my chocolate.

But I don’t. I stand, and I stare at the tall, tan, very good-looking man at the center of the group of people gathered at the back of Seb’s.

I don’t, because Noble Kane was the unrequited love of my life.

Heck, even his voice is swoony. He’s got facial hair now, and it really, really suits him.

Gosh darnit.

A young boy in a cowboy hat pushes his way into the circle. “Can I get an autograph?”

His mom stands on the other side of the older man, and when the man shoots her a look that seems to say, “Traitor!” she shrugs.

“Yeah, sure thing, kid,” Noble says. “What’s your name?” He kneels down in front of the boy.

“Jonah.” He hands over a small notebook and a pen, and Noble scribbles on it.

“You like the rodeo?” Noble asks.

“I love it,” Jonah says, brightly. “I want to ride bulls just like you.”