Page 58 of Feels Like Home

I chuck a pillow at her.

“Cute.” His voice is a little gravelly, and it rumbles straight through me. His eyes find mine, and he goes quiet. “Hey.”

“Put. Some. Clothes. On.” I say, holding up a pillow in between my eyes and his body. “Were you born in a commune? You’re breaking the rule!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Real quick, are you kayaking this morning?”

I lower the pillow just enough for him to see me nod—and for me to get a quick glimpse. It’s a nice glimpse. “Yes.”

“Mind if I join?” A lazy smirk. “Since we’re, you know, friends again?”

“I said, ‘Don’t push it.’”

“I’m manifesting.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “You’re manifesting friendship with me,” I say, flatly.

“Is it working?”

I don’t move. “It is not.”

He shrugs. “Eh. I can wait.”

“So can I.”

He stares.

I stare.

“So? Kayaks?” He points at me with both hands.

“Fine.” I drop back down, willing my heart to stop pounding so loud. Rowena is going to hear the thumping and turn it into a thing.

“Great! Meet you at the lake.” He smiles and disappears into the bathroom down the hall, and my sister, with her big, wide eyes, slow turns toward me.

“So . . . it’s true,” she hisses.

I start waving at the door, and she jumps up and closes it. When she spins back around, her expression is the same—shocked.

“You and Noble. Friends? Is that a code word?”

“No,” I say. “Pretty sure that word means the same thing to everyone.”

“Hattie, I heard from multiple people that you were spotted strolling around the farmers’ market holding hands with Noble Kane,” she says. “Holding hands, Hattie?! I thought you hated the guy! Explain.”

“First of all, keep your voice down,” I whisper-shout at her. “In case you’ve forgotten, he’s staying right next door.”

“Who could forget?” She gushes. “Did you see his torso?”

“Second of all, once again, the Silverwood gossip train got it wrong.” I whip the covers off and get out of bed. “We weren’t holding hands.”

“But you were seen in public. With someone you said you hate,” she says.

I bristle. “I never said I hate him!”

“You didn’t have to,” she says. “Your face said it for you.”

My heart sinks. “I don’t hate him.”