“When I first moved in here, he had this dinky little table. Imagine a family this size, and he has a dinette set that seated maybe four people,” Mary said.

“I was only waiting for you, Curly.” Damien winked at his wife.

“So anyway, you’re a librarian. I was just in last week, but you weren’t there. Yes, I was going to get a look at you and figure out a way to introduce myself, I admit it.”

Paddy groaned, but Natalie squeezed his hand where he’d been holding hers.

“What day?”

“Wednesday afternoon? They said you were at the elementary school doing something.”

“I go to talk about kid lit. All the books we’ve gotten in recently that they might like. It gets me out of the building and third graders are adorable. They get so excited about stuff. The first graders are great, and they spill their parents’ secrets like crazy. Mom drinks beer, and she and daddy take naps with the door locked. That type of thing.”

“I have a second and third grader. I can attest to that.” Vaughan grinned.

She drew Vaughan out, chatting with him about his girls, and there couldn’t have been anything better to have done to make Vaughan like her. He showed her pictures, and she asked all the right questions.

Ezra gave Paddy an approving look as she and Mary disappeared into the kitchen.

“Thumbs-up. I have no idea how you landed a woman like her, but good job, and don’t f**k it up.”

“Um. Thanks, ass**le.” Paddy punched Ezra’s arm. Mainly he thought it was funny teasing. The same type they did to one another daily. It was how they communicated most of the time. But in a corner of his heart maybe it sort of sucked that they seemed so amazed he was capable of being with a woman like Natalie. “Some people happen to think I’m a catch.”

“Ha! Yeah, but you run from them usually, so don’t get pissy with us. She’s done some mellowing. I mean from before,” Damien said.

“She was nineteen years old. I hope to hell I’ve done some mellowing since then, too. Anyway, I thought you didn’t remember her.”

“Dude, we all remember her now. It was two weeks, she was with you pretty much daily. She took pity on us and rustled free drinks. She was as wild as we all were. Plus, it’s difficult to forget a face that pretty.”

“All were.”

Damien put his hands up. “I’m not attacking. I have zero double standards when it comes to wild youth.”

“I like that you’re defensive on her behalf, though.” Ezra raised a brow.

“I just—” He lowered his voice. “She’s sensitive about her private life. She’s not that girl anymore. I don’t want her upset.”

“Fair enough.” Damien nodded. “Ten bucks says Mom and Dad arrive within the next five minutes.”

A flurry of bets were placed as he looked toward the kitchen.

* * *

“YOU HAVE A really gorgeous home here. I don’t even cook, and I have to say how much I love this kitchen.” Natalie loved the warm tiles, the pots hanging from the ceiling, all the gadgets and things. It was lived-in and beautiful and clearly someplace this couple spent a lot of time.

“I can’t take credit for the basic bones. Damien had it built before I met him. Between us? This room was a huge factor in why I said yes when he asked me to marry him.” Mary winked, putting Natalie at ease. “I spend more time in this room than any other except our bedroom probably. You’re holding up well, by the way. My first time meeting all the brothers was when I was surrounded by my friends. Took the edge off. I mean, I suppose you knew them all before, but this is different.”

Natalie laughed. It was different. “They’re all nice, and they clearly care about one another. I guess I was a little worried they’d expect me to be the same as I was back then. But none of them really are, either. I worried for nothing, and my friend Tuesday will poke me and say I told you so.”

“As best friends do. What were they like then?”

“Like Dalmatian puppies. Long and tall and in trouble at all times. They didn’t just come into a room, they sort of spilled into it, all legs and hair and elbows. They had it then, too, that whatever it takes to make someone into a star. Charisma.”

Mary nodded with a grin. “They all have this intense personal gravity that pulls you in. Okay, just tell me if I’m being nosy, but I hear you don’t cook?”

“I’m awful at it. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s certainly not that I hate food.” She waved a hand at her body. But she never had a mom around, or even a dad who did any time in a kitchen longer than it took to get more beer. She had to make due growing up, and maybe sometimes that was more than she wanted to dwell on so she avoided the kitchen. Maybe. Or it was something her therapist said and was probably right.

She took a mental-bracing breath. This woman was just trying to be nice. And normal.

“I’m, like, cosmically bad at it. All the jokes about burning water? That’s me. Luckily, Tuesday can cook, so I do more cleaning to even things out.”

“I’m dying here. I want to offer to give you lessons, but it seems sort of rude. Is it rude? Because I love to cook and I feel like an evangelist right now and also? I like you. I don’t know a lot of people in Hood River, even though I’ve lived here for about a year and a half now. I tend to get caught up in stuff, and I don’t leave the ranch and even when I do it’s there, this big neon sign over my head that says, Damien Hurley’s wife, and it’s odd. I’d love to hang out. Is that weird?”