Page 39 of Take Me Home

She notices me for the first time and stops. “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d be here, Sunshine.”

My brother glances between us. “Wait, Linc, how do you know Poppy’s friend?”

I stay quiet, allowing her the chance to answer.

Hattie shifts on her feet. “I’m staying at Whispering Pines for a few weeks.” She pauses, rolling her lips together. “I’m Hank’s daughter.”

Wayne’s eyes widen, and his mouth falls open.

Poppy sighs. “Now that that’s out of the way, let’s eat.”

My brother clearly didn’t hear Poppy and continues gaping at Hattie.

Looking at her, I understand why my brother is dumbfounded. Once you know Hank Daniels is her father, it’s impossible not to notice how much she looks like him.

Hattie glances over at Tripp, and he grins. She tousles his hair, and he hands her a slice of bacon. Without skipping a beat, she takes it from him and chews off a small bite. This morning, black jeans cover her toned legs, and she’s wearing the soft-looking sweater she had on under her coat the day I picked her up from the airport. It drapes delicately across her shoulders, showing just enough of her collarbone to make me wonder what’s underneath. Her red hair falls down her back, curling softly. She looks beautiful.

“You want some coffee?” Poppy asks Hattie.

“Sure—”

Wayne flies toward the coffeepot before Hattie can finish her sentence. “I’ll get it!”

Poppy rolls her eyes. “Apparently, Wayne doesn’t see women very often.”

The front door opens and Owen’s voice filters down the hallway, “Good morning, Galloways!”

The sound of boots and coats being removed echoes, and a minute later Jackson and Owen walk into the now-crowded kitchen.

Owen casually drapes an arm across my sister’s shoulders. “What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.” A backwards baseball cap covers his dark hair, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief the same way they have since we were kids. He’s wearing a flannel button-down and worn jeans, and I wonder if Hattie will say something about the flannel.

“Linc made French toast and bacon,” Poppy tells him, shooting me a soft smile.

Owen’s gaze lands on Hattie. “Hey, I’m Owen.”

“I’m Hattie,” she offers, then notices Jackson. “Oh, Dr. Miller, hi.”

Jackson, who tends to lurk in the background of a room watching everyone, tips his chin. “Just call me Jackson.”

Wayne comes toward her with a full mug of coffee. “Here, gorgeous, you want cream and sugar?”

Owen glances around the room. “Sorry, does everyone know this stranger except me?”

Tripp pipes up from the table, “That’s Hattie.”

We turn to find him sitting in his spot at the table with a wicker basket stuffed full of toy horses. He’s holding two of his favorites.

Hattie waves awkwardly. “Yes, I’m Hattie⁠—”

“She’s Hank’s daughter,” Wayne adds, cutting her off again.

Dumbass.

He removes a gallon of milk from the fridge for Hattie’s coffee then glances at Poppy. “Uh, Pops…where’s the sugar?”

Poppy shakes her head in dismay. “You’re helpless. Put the milk back and sit down.”

He listens, shoulders sagging like a sad puppy.