“Don’t make me ill.”
Luke smirked, took a drink of the soda in his hand. “He’s just moody because the good doctor’s walking around in tight shorts.”
Hannah followed the men’s gaze to Mia, who was currently working a face-painting station with Abby and Lizzy.
“You going to talk to her or just shoot daggers across the grass?” Luke went on. “If you want her, why aren’t you doing something about it?”
Hannah had noticed her brother watching Mia. Wondered if they’d talked, if maybe Nick was thinking about taking her advice and making things right.
Nick’s gaze never wavered. “I don’t need your input.”
“Oh, I think you do. Unless you want to stand here looking like a damn stalker.”
“Shut the hell up,” Nick said, and headed off in the opposite direction.
“Maybe you shouldn’t give him such a rough time,” she said.
Luke made a sound under his breath. “And why the hell not?”
“Because…” She’d started to say because she was afraid it was her fault they’d broken up in the first place. But the cycle of blame had to stop somewhere. “Never mind.”
“Here comes the object of your affection now.” Luke pointed at Stephen, ambling across the clearing, a little girl on each arm.
“Hey.” Stephen gave her a sheepish smile.
She smiled back. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
“We do,” Lola answered, assuming Hannah was speaking to her, which made them all laugh.
“He’s our chariot,” Allie added.
She tried to fake disappointment, when really she couldn’t have been more proud.
Lola looked between them. “Is she still not your girlfriend?”
Hannah flicked a quick glance at Stephen, avoiding her brother’s eyes.
“She is his girlfriend,” Allie said. “As long as he doesn’t kiss anyone else.”
Stephen’s eyes met hers. “Definitely not kissing anyone else.” To emphasize that, he bent and planted a kiss on her lips right there in front of everyone. Her stomach did a little flip. So much had changed since that day at the boardwalk. But she read, she watched TV. A man wanting a woman, even needing, didn’t equal happily-ever-after love. She really needed to talk to Mia.
“Okay, gorgeous ladies. Where to?”
“Games!” they both said at once.
—
The day was winding down and Stephen looked around amazed at the way his family had come together for Hannah. He owed them. But then again he didn’t, because that’s what family did.
Everything had gone well other than the several hours he’d been forced to spend with her brothers. At least his own brothers had been there in case it became the Montagues versus the Capulets—which it almost did during a cutthroat game of horseshoes. Though his own brothers seemed to get along annoyingly well with all the Walkers. Screw it. He only cared about one Walker.
Was there anything sweeter than waking up with Hannah? Her soft-as-silk body cuddled against his?
Stephen looked up, surprised to see Mia walking purposefully toward him.
“Hi,” she said when she got within a few feet. “I wanted to talk to you before I left.”
Hannah had introduced her as a friend, but she’d also told him she saw her professionally. Another bit of insight into Hannah’s past.
“Actually, I just wanted to say something, I guess.”
“I’m listening.” He braced for whatever it was she was going to say. What he already knew. That he wasn’t good enough for her. Wasn’t good for her period.
“Don’t hurt her.”
“I won’t.” His answer was instinctive, but he almost asked if dreams, daydreams, could hurt a person. If he could be a husband? A father?
Could he hold a newborn baby if he imagined ripping someone’s heart out, smiling while they screamed for mercy? As a professional, what did she think that said about him?
He looked up to find Mia’s eyes narrowed, studying him carefully. “Never mind. I don’t want to hurt her either.”
“She’ll never see herself as beautiful.”
“Are you asking if I do? See her as beautiful?” He glared at Mia, hating what she’d said but knowing it might be true. “She is beautiful. But I see her as way more than that.”
Mia stood a moment or so longer before patting him on the arm and walking away.
His eyes tracked over to Hannah and the horses. She wore jeans today instead of riding breeches, which looked just as hot, and a thin long-sleeved shirt, which he now understood. Her hair hung in a thick braid the color of summer wheat. The hair that had been wrapped around his body all night and spread over his chest when he woke.