Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl: Heaven Sent / His Hometown Girl. Jillian Hart

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      “Not if she’s anything like Nanna.”

      Her attempt at humor touched him because she couldn’t like this situation. It was absurd that anyone would think that a small-town carpenter belonged anywhere near a millionaire’s daughter.

      “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” The words rang on the air the instant the passenger door of Mom’s car swung open. As Hope finished descending, Matthew watched his sons race full out toward the fence until Mom shouted at them to wait and not touch the barbed wire.

      Hope lighted on the ground and tilted her head back to look at him. “I didn’t know they were identical.”

      “Keeps things interesting.”

      “I bet it does.” She covered her eyes with her free hand and squinted through the glaring sun to watch the triplets tumble into the field.

      He started down the ladder, descending quickly. Already Mom was helping the boys through the fence and there was no mistaking the look of delight in that grin of hers, which he could see plainly from across the field. This wasn’t what he needed. Mom would think she was on the right track and start really pushing.

      “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” The triplets plowed through the sweet-smelling alfalfa and scrambled to him, arms flung open.

      Matthew barely had time to brace himself before the boys threw their arms around his knees and held on tight, bouncing and shouting. “Did you three give your gramma so much trouble she decided to give you back?”

      “It was tempting,” Mom teased over the racket of the boys talking at once. He heard the words “fire,” “fireman” and “big truck.” “Agnes had a small kitchen fire and wanted you to give her an estimate on the damage.”

      “You could have called, Mom.” Matthew lifted Josh onto his hip.

      “Yes, but you know I hate talking to that beeper thing of yours. Hope, what a pleasure to see you again.” Mom practically beamed as she approached the slim woman who stood off by herself, as if not sure what to think of them all. “I heard from Nora you were in town.”

      “She finally figured out a way to get me back here.” Hope took Mom’s hand, her manner warm, as if she wasn’t upset in the slightest. “It’s good to see you again, Patsy.”

      The boys demanded Matthew’s attention, telling him everything about the sirens and the big red truck, but his gaze kept straying to the woman talking with his mother, whose girl-next-door freshness was at odds with everything he remembered about Hope Ashton from high school.

      “Is that lady gonna take us?” Josh asked, both fists tight in Matthew’s T-shirt.

      The other boys turned to frown at Hope, and before Matthew could answer, she did.

      “No, but I did bring you boys something.” Hope swirled away from his mother and snatched the paper bag from the blanket.

      Of course, his mother took one look at the blanket, not an item he usually took to work with him, and lifted one curious—or was that accusing?—eyebrow.

      Ian took one step forward, interested in Hope’s paper bag. “Cookies?”

      “Candy?” Kale looked tempted.

      Josh buried his face in Matthew’s shoulder and held on tight.

      Matthew watched as Hope shook her head, dark wisps tangling in the wind, and knelt down, opening the sack. “If you boys don’t like cinnamon rolls, I could eat them all by myself—”

      “Cinnamon rolls?” Kale shot forward, not caring if this woman was a stranger. “Like the kind Gramma makes? With frosting?”

      “With frosting.”

      Ian scrambled closer. “Does it got raisins? Don’t like raisins.”

      “No raisins, but they do have icing. Go ahead and try one.” Hope shook the bag, as if she were trying to coax them closer.

      Huge mistake. Matthew set out to rescue her as both boys plunged their hands into the sack, fighting for the biggest roll. But Hope only laughed, a warm gentle sound that made him stop and really look at her, at this outsider who had never quite belonged in their small Montana town.

      She didn’t look like an outsider now. Her faded denims hugged her slender legs with an easy casualness, and her T-shirt was probably a big-label brand, but the cherry-red color brought out the bronzed hue of her skin and the gleam of laughter in her eyes. She didn’t look like a millionaire’s daughter and an established photographer.

      She looked like a beautiful woman who liked children. His children.

      “No, only take one.” She merely shrugged when Kale got away with two plump rolls, and Matthew was about to make Kale put the pastry back when Hope shook her head, her cheeks pink with laughter, her eyes bright and merry. “Good thing I brought enough for second helpings.”

      Josh buried his face harder into Matthew’s shoulder and held on tighter.

      “He’s sensitive.” Matthew leaned his cheek against the top of the boy’s head. “We’ve gone through a lot of baby-sitters and it’s been hard on him.”

      “I know exactly what that feels like. I had a lot of different nannies when I was little. All that change can be hard.” She pressed the bag into Matthew’s free hand. “He might be interested once I’m gone.”

      Why did he feel disappointed that she was leaving? “So, you’re leaving me alone with my mom?”

      Hope glanced over her shoulder to watch his mother sit Ian and Kale down on the blanket, admonishing them to eat with their mouths closed. “I bet a grown man like you can handle anything and besides, I don’t want to be in the way.”

      “You’re welcome to stay.” And it surprised him because he meant it.

      “This will be the perfect opportunity to talk with your mother and try to figure out who we should fix her up with.” She backed away, lifting a hand to wave at Mom and the boys.

      “I hope to see you again soon,” Mom called. “Say thank-you, Ian, Kale.”

      Two thank-yous chimed in unison.

      Matthew watched helplessly as she breezed away from him, the big blue sky at her back, the green field at her feet. He wanted to stop her, to keep her here with him. It didn’t make a bit of sense, but that’s how he felt. He couldn’t help it.

      He watched as she turned around to glance at his boys eating unfurled sections of their cinnamon rolls, sticky and happy, and the look in her eyes, the softness on her face made his knees weak. He had to lean against the corner of the old barn for support.

      Was that longing he saw on Hope Ashton’s face? Before he could be sure, it was gone. She shouted across the widening distance. “I’ll tell Nanna you haven’t forgotten about repairing her cabinets.”

      “Sure.” He felt tongue-tied, not sure what to say as she spun around and headed off through the fields, leaving him with a strange, yearning feeling.

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