Heaven Sent. Jillian Hart
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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.
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