A moment later, I hear Thomas. “Right here,” he calls. “Our boots got all muddy, so we left them outside.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” Dottie responds with a laugh.
Thomas enters the kitchen, his face red with splotches of mud on it. He strides over to me as soon as he spots me, a smile breaking out on his lips. “Hey freckles,” he greets, taking my chin in his fingers and tilting so my lips are on his. He kisses me short and sweet, pulling away before it intensifies. My palm is on his chest, feeling his heart thump heavily beneath his skin. “Missed you.”
The butterflies swoop low in my belly. “It’s only been a few hours,” I reply before tugging on his shirt to pull him back to my lips. I don’t want to admit that I missed him too.
“You missed me, too,” he teases.
I shrug, trying to play nonchalant, but inside, I’m giddy.
Of course, all that giddiness disappears instantly when a new voice joins in.
“I’m home!” a deep male voice calls from the entryway.
“Fletch!” Dottie shrieks, wiping her soapy wet hands on her own apron. Instantly, I’m glancing down at my messy apron, pulling it up and over my head, smoothing my hands over my light pink sundress. I catch a quick glimpse of Fletcher, meeting his eyes briefly. I start picking at the skin around my fingernails to distract me from the churning fear.
“Hannah, you look perfect,” Thomas says, grabbing myhands to stop me. I look up at him, my anxiety brimming. He can see it, and instead of trying to calm me with words, he does what he knows works. He kisses me senseless. I should be embarrassed that this is Ron and Dottie’s son’s first impression of us, but at this moment, I don’t care. He helps me in the way he knows works.
When he pulls away, I catch Fletcher’s eye. A sly grin takes over his face as he takes us in.
“Hannah and Thomas?” he asks, brown eyes lit up in happiness. “I’m Fletcher, but you can call me Fletch.”
He crosses the room, thrusting out his hand. We both shake it as Thomas formally introduces us.
“Hi,” Thomas greets, his dimpled smile flashing. “I’m Thomas, and this is my fiancée, Hannah. We’ve been staying here for a few weeks in the cottage out back, and this is our dog, Arson.”
Hearing him introduce me as his fiancée sends a thrill down my spine. It’s not the first time he has, since he introduced me as it to Ron and Dottie, and we’ve been playing this part for a month now. It doesn’t stop the feelings associated with it, though. I love that a little part of me is his, even if it’s only temporary.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you two,” he says. “My parents have told me all about you, and selfishly, I was hoping you were still here when I came so I could meet you.”
Some of the tension in my body melts away at his words. He was excited to meet us?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” Thomas says. Fletch heads to the kitchen table, sitting down and gesturing for us to sit too. Dottie pours us all a cup of coffee.
“So, you’re from Minnesota, too?” he asks, taking a sipof her coffee.
“Yeah, I’m not sure if we can tell you where, what with the circumstances of us being here, but I can tell you that much,” Thomas explains.
Fletcher waves a palm. “No worries. I know how it is when my parents have ‘friends that come to visit.’ I’m in a suburb outside of the Twin Cities.”
“We’re a little further North than the Twin Cities,” Thomas says ambiguously, reaching for the frame of my chair to scoot closer to him so he can wrap an arm around me. The simple touch helps me more than I realize. I was tensing up again and didn’t even know.
“Well, when you get home, if you ever want to meet up, let me know. I tend to have a busy schedule once fall starts, but we can work something out.”
I swallow thickly, mustering the confidence to join the conversation. “Your parents said you're playing for a hockey team?”
He nods. “Yep, I play for the MBH.”
Thomas asks, his eyes widening. “The Minnesota Blue Herons?” Thomas asks, his eyes widening.
His smile widens. “You guessed it.”
“Wow, that’s cool,” I respond. I’ve never been a huge hockey fan, but it’s clear Thomas is.
“You like hockey?” Fletcher asks.
Thomas nods, while I shake my head, saying, “It’s not that I dislike it. I just haven’t really watched it much.”
