“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that at all! It’s just that I have the worst memory when it comes to faces. It’s a thing called aphantasia. I can’t picture things clearly in my mind; all I see are fuzzy images. I always tell people I’d make the worsteyewitness. No matter how gorgeous your face might be, I’d be hard pressed to remember it.”
His thick brows quirk in surprise. “You think my face is gorgeous?”
Did I say that out loud?I cover my warm cheeks with my hands. “I meant gorgeous in a purely objective and platonic way. Like how a sunset is gorgeous. Or a waterfall. Or autumn leaves on a tree.”
“Wow, I’ll take those comparisons any day. I appreciate the purely objective and platonic compliment. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome,” I reply in amazement at how he just turned an embarrassing situation around and, in my favor, no less.
This man is gorgeous, charming,andsmart?
Whoever he is, he has such an easy way about him. He’s what the girls in my book club would call a “cinnamon roll hero”. The kind of guys we love reading about who would help you organize your bookshelf by color or bring you homemade chicken noodle soup when you’re sick. I can’t believe I’m meeting such a man in real life. If only I could remember where I know him from.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other and cock my head to study him. His broad shoulders and toned torso fill out his T-shirt just right and the muscles on his forearms flex with impressive strength. But it’s the saying on his shirt—”I don’t know how to act my age; I’ve never been this old before”—that makes him even more appealing. I love a man with a good sense of humor, and this one obviously knows how to make people laugh. I’m even more curious now to know who he is.
“So,” I say, giving him a smile, “now that we’ve established how gorgeous you are in a purely objective andplatonic way, would you mind refreshing my memory a bit? How do you know my name?”
He runs a hand along his five o’clock shadow, looking thoughtful. “I not only know your name, I also know your favorite book isAnne of Green Gablesand you always disliked your red hair, just like Anne did.”
“H-how did you know that?” I glance around, wondering if I’m being pranked. Did Amelia set this up? “Is there a hidden camera somewhere? Are we on some kind of reality show?”
Crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes as his grin widens. “No, but that would be fun. I’ve been known to enjoy a good prank now and then.”
I suck in a sharp breath. All the alarms go off in my brain like there’s a five-alarm fire burning in the vicinity. Probably because there is, specifically one that’s housed inside of my body and quickly spreading from my toes to my cheeks. My mind is finally catching on to what I’m seeing, and the realization shocks me to my core—this gorgeous man is Shane Morgan?!
Oh yes, Amelia totally set this up, but the punch line is not like anything I’d expected. Her words come back to me:He’s not that little anymore, Hope.Well, that is the understatement of the century! Nothing could have prepared me for this version of Shane. Where’s the lanky, goofy teenager who used to pull my hair and call me Carrots? How did he turn into this fully grown man with a charming personality and a great sense of humor?
My mouth goes dry. I’m literally speechless and so embarrassed that I didn’t recognize my best friend’s little brother. Even worse, I cannot believe I have been semi-flirting with him. That thought makes me shiver beneath my dozen layers of clothing. At least I didn’t do somethingtotally romance-novel-worthy like bat my eyelashes at him or swoon at his feet. It’s time to put on my big girl pants—metaphorically speaking, because I cannot wear one more thing—and figure out a way to gracefully backpedal out of this situation.
“Hey, Shaney, it’s nice to see you.” I squeeze out a sheepish smile. “You’ll have to forgive me for not recognizing you. I didn’t forget you, I promise. I just didn’t expect you to be so tall and grown and?—”
“Gorgeous?” His long, curly lashes flutter like butterfly wings as he bats them in my direction. “In a purely objective and platonic way, of course.”
A long groan escapes my lips. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”
“Nope.” His smirk turns mischievous. “But all is forgiven—as long as you don’t call me Shaney. No one’s called me that since you left for college.”
“And I can only imagine how much you’ve missed hearing it.” I bump his elbow playfully, pleasantly surprised that our banter hasn’t changed much in the dozen years that we’ve been apart. Meeting up with Shane is like revisiting a piece of my past; it’s nostalgic and comfortable. Of course, he can’t take my best friend’s place, but he’s not a bad substitute. “Thanks for stepping in for Amelia. I know it was a lot to ask of you to drive down to pick me up. I hope this didn’t ruin any plans you had.”
“Naw, it’s all good. It’s not every day that I get to hang out with my sister’s best friend. I’m sure there are worse ways to spend my days off,” he adds with a wink.
I laugh drolly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I suppose we’re even now. Come on, let’s get going.” He smiles and picks up the duffle bag at my feet. “Is this all you brought?”
“That’s actually not mine. It belongs to the guy who’s helping me get my suitcase. It’s weird that he’s not back yet.”
I glance around for my “random acts of kindness” stranger to see if he’s located my luggage. That’s when I notice the carousel is a lot emptier than it was minutes ago. Shane and I are among a handful of people left at the baggage claim, and there’s no sign of my good Samaritan anywhere.
My stomach drops. “Uh, Shane, I don’t see the guy or my luggage. Where did they go?!”
CHAPTER 4
Shane
“There isnothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate.” ~Linda Grayson
It’s a good thing I brought cookies for Hope. And an even better thing that I only ate one on my way to the airport. In my defense, I wanted to do a little taste test before handing them over. The teenage version of Hope had high standards when it came to cookies—there had to bejustthe right amount of raisins and nuts, no more and no less. I can only imagine the adult version of her has grown up to have the same impeccable standards.