Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl. Jillian Hart

let me.” It was a simple thing, reaching forward and lifting the green half of a tomato leaf from her hair, but it felt as natural as if he’d been this close to Hope all his life. Already the floral scents of her skin and shampoo felt like a memory, and he knew, if he lowered his hand just a few inches to brush the side of her face, her skin would feel like warm silk against his callused fingers.

      Guilt pounded through him with renewed force, and he let the leaf blow away in the wind.

      “Daddy!” Ian stomped his foot, his voice hard with indignation. “Listen.”

      Oh, boy, how long had the kid been trying to get his attention? And how could he not hear his own son? “I’m coming, buddy.”

      He climbed to his feet, and Ian’s small gritty fingers curled around his and held on with viselike force. He watched as Ian shot a jealous look at Hope. A lot of women who’d sacrificed their morning to watch over someone else’s children might have taken offense, but Hope merely shrugged, her mouth soft with amusement.

      It was there on her face, radiant and sincere, and he couldn’t get it out of his head as he knelt in front of a small pit to praise the boys’ busywork. She liked his boys, and he couldn’t fault her for that.

      “Matthew, look.” Her whispered words as gentle as a spring breeze tingled over him and, at the look of hope in her eyes, his heart skipped a beat.

      Harold was carrying Nora in his arms from the garden to the back porch. It was one of the sweetest things he’d ever seen.

      “Daddy.” Josh let go of his grader, and the truck tumbled to the ground with a clang. “I’m real hungry.”

      “Me, too!” the other boys chimed.

      “You’ve got to be kidding. It’s ten-thirty in the morning. Nope, no food. I’m starving you three from here on out.”

      The triplets started demanding hamburgers, and Matthew watched Hope climb to her feet, brushing the dirt off her clothes.

      “It will be after eleven by the time we get to town.” She lifted her chin in challenge. “We can get take-out hamburgers and they’ll be fueled up for the rest of the afternoon.”

      “No way. I’m not imposing on you like that. You have Nora to look after.”

      “She’s a soft spot in my heart, and I let her stay up too long this morning. She’s going to be napping all afternoon, believe me, so I’ll have plenty of free time.” Hope rubbed a smudge of dirt from her cheek with her hands, leaving another bigger smudge. “Besides, I have it on good authority that Nanna loves cheeseburgers. Even older women need their protein.”

      “Hamburgers, hamburgers,” the triplets chanted.

      “All right, boys, you win. Let’s get you in the truck. And you. Stop encouraging them.” He shot a gaze at Hope, who was carefully treading through the rows of vulnerable new plants.

      “Hey, I wanted hamburgers, too.” The wind tousled the dark strands that framed her face.

      His chest cinched tight, and he wished he could stop noticing how the sunlight sheened on her velvet hair and caressed the silken curve of her cheek.

      But most of all, it was her hands that caught his attention, slim but capable-looking, sensitive but strong. Hands that had helped care for her ailing grandmother, hands that could coax beauty from a camera and hands that he wanted to take in his own.

      But that was because he missed Kathy. That was the only explanation. The longing in his heart for a woman’s touch was really the longing for Kathy’s touch, forever lost to him. It wasn’t an attraction to Hope.

      “I’ll help get the boys buckled in,” she offered, following the triplets to the truck.

      His heart cinched. A part of him knew that it wasn’t Kathy he wanted to touch right now, and as Hope trotted away, offering to race the boys, he wondered what his feelings meant.

      He’d asked the Lord to show him the way. Surely these feelings for Hope weren’t God’s answer to his prayers.

      “I tried to seat them together,” Matthew whispered as he climbed onto the picnic bench beside her, his breath warm against the outer shell of her ear. “Harold was stubborn.”

      “And look at Nanna, she’s talking to Josh and completely ignoring Harold.” Hope snatched an onion ring from one of the waxed paper boxes in the middle of the old weatherworn table. “We’re dismal failures as matchmakers.”

      “Good thing we’re not done yet.”

      “I’m glad you’re not easily defeated, because neither am I.” Not now that she realized how much her grandmother needed someone in her life, someone to love. And that’s what she would concentrate on. “I know Nanna’s interested in him, but you wouldn’t know it to look at them.”

      “Kale, throw that fry and you won’t get more,” Matthew interrupted as one dark-haired little boy held a ketchup-tipped curly French fry in midair, contemplating the merits of lobbing it at Ian and losing his fry privilege completely.

      Ian solved the dilemma by flinging a fry at Kale instead and splattering ketchup across the table.

      “That’s it, you boys have sat long enough.” Matthew leaped up to prevent any more throwing. “Get up and run off that energy. And stay where I can see you.”

      Two identical little boys hopped off the bench, legs pumping, sneakers pounding, tearing through the grass field behind the house. A small plane cut through the wispy white clouds in the blue sky above, and the boys spread their arms like wings, making plane engine noises.

      “My, I’d forgotten what fun they are at that age. And so much energy!” Nanna beamed with delight as she watched them. “My son was just like that, always on the go, always thinking. About ran me ragged, he did. How you manage with three of them, I’ll never know. It would take a special woman to be a stepmother to three three-year-olds.”

      “Nanna, I think it’s time for you to go upstairs.” Hope snatched another onion ring from the basket and shared a conspiratorial smile with Matthew. He looked ready to set Nanna straight, ready to come to Hope’s aid if she needed him.

      Not that she needed him.

      Matthew stood alongside her, scooped Josh from the bench and set him on the ground. The little boy raced off to join his brothers, arms spread, soaring through the fresh young grass waving in the wind. “Harold, if you keep an eye on my sons, I’ll carry Nora upstairs.”

      “Sure thing.” The older man nodded, pride at his great grandsons alight on his handsome face, before nodding politely to Nanna. “You take care, Nora.”

      “Oh, my granddaughter will see to that.” There was no want, no coveting in Nanna’s clear eyes as she smiled.

      Hope ached for her grandmother. Harold seemed as if he liked Nanna, and Hope fought disappointment as she took Nanna’s hand.

      “She looks too tired.” Matthew appeared at Hope’s side, his strong warm presence unmistakable. “Nora, come lean on me.”

      So it was with gratitude that she followed Matthew up the stairs as he cradled Nanna in his arms. The bedroom windows were open to the sun, and the lace curtains fluttered in cadence with the wind. The distant sounds of small boys’ laughter and the hum of engines sounded merry and seemed to fill the lonely old house with a welcome joy.

      Hope tugged down the top sheet and stepped back so Matthew could lower Nanna onto the mattress with tender care. Hope’s chest swelled with more than gratefulness and she turned away as a warmth that had nothing to do with appreciation spilled into her veins.

      “Bless you, Matthew.” Easing back into her pillows, Nanna pressed her lips together to hide a moan of pain. Kirby rushed in with noontime medication and a glass of water to wash down the collection of pills.

      Matthew