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

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.

      A feeling he decided he wouldn’t look at too closely.

      

      “Those boys are the cutest things I ever did see,” Nanna crooned as Matthew’s triplets tripped down the church aisle, their father towering over them. “And Matthew is cute in an entirely different way. Why, if I were you, Hope, I’d cut a path for that man, I tell you. He’s as dependable as the day is long, and you already know he’ll make a wonderful father. Look how he handles those boys.”

      “I’m immune to the lovebug, Nanna. Don’t get your hopes up because I’m not planning on marrying anyone.”

      “Still, Matthew is a very handsome man.”

      “He’s still grieving his wife, Nanna. Have you and Patsy given one thought about how much your matchmaking is hurting him?”

      “Well, if that’s true, then I’m sorry about that, but honestly, grief does fade, maybe not completely, but there comes a time when you’re ready to start accepting what life has to give.” Nanna’s hand covered Hope’s and squeezed gently, lovingly. “In time a heart is ready to love again.”

      “You’ve been a widow for over ten years.”

      “That I have.” Her sigh was sad, and the old lady looked hard at the stained glass windows bursting with color beneath the sun’s touch. “But I’m more concerned about you. You should be thinking about starting a family of your own. Patsy told me you went to see Matthew for a little picnic the other day.”

      “No, I went to remind him about your cabinets.”

      “With cinnamon rolls?”

      Hope glanced around, desperate for a change of subject. She spotted an elderly man, his back straight and his shoulders strong as if he’d done battle with age and won, his gray hair distinguished as he strode powerfully down the aisle toward Matthew and the triplets. “Look, there’s Harold. I can see why you have a crush on him.”

      “It’s probably foolish, but I—” Nanna stopped, the brightness in her eyes fading. “I’m just having a little fun, and it makes me feel young again.”

      Hope wondered at the change in her grandmother, and when she saw Helen hurrying down the aisle to speak with Harold, she knew why. Helen might not have any idea how Nanna felt about the handsome older gentleman, and Hope knew that Nanna wasn’t about to say anything differently now.

      Organ music broke through the din of the congregation settling onto the old wooden pews, and disappointment wrapped around Hope’s heart as Helen took Harold by the arm and led him to Matthew’s pew.

      “It’s not like I’m crazy over the man or anything,” Nanna said staunchly, but her voice sounded too tight and strained to be telling the truth. “But a handsome man is always a joy to behold.”

      Six rows ahead of them, Matthew stood to greet his grandfather-in-law. Patsy was there and ordered the boys to squeeze closer together to make room, and there was enough space on the bench for Helen to settle down beside Harold.

      As if he felt her gaze, Matthew turned and found her in the crowd. He wore a dark suit and a white shirt that emphasized his sun-browned, wholesome good looks, the kind a man had when he worked outside for a living.

      Her heart gave a strange