“And then we broke your peaceful retreat. I’m so sorry. And sorry about my dog. He doesn’t act like that unless I’m being threatened.” She winced. “Not that you were threatening us. He just misread the situation.” Goodness, she was rambling.
But she didn’t usually talk to guys she didn’t know extremely well. Shannon Baker had never been that girl—bold, smooth, flirtatious. Not like Quinn.
Thankfully, Marshall ignored her blathering and offered an easy laugh. “No worries. That’s the best kind of dog.” He looked at Noah and Lucky, who were knee high splashing in the waves together. “He’s really good with your son.”
“Oh, he’s n—” Shannon hesitated. “He’s not my son … yet.”
“Yet?”
“I’m hoping to adopt him.”
Her chest warmed at the thought of Noah moving into Bella’s old room. In anticipation of her wedding next weekend, her former roommate had already moved into the house she and Shannon’s cousin Ben were renting just a few miles away. Afterward, Shannon had made a whirlwind trip to Herman Hardware and purchased paint and a few decorations to get the room ready for Noah.
While she’d painted, she’d dreamed of their future. Of stargazing on summer nights and curling up by the fireplace reading stories during the winter. Of learning about sports for the first time because Noah was interested in baseball. Of giving the boy a sense of security he could count on for as long as she had the ability to provide it.
Shannon may not be a former NFL player like her brother, a business owner and town leader like her parents, or a hotshot marketing executive like her sister, but she could do this one meaningful thing with her life.
A tear slid down her cheek. She swiped it away.
“You all right?”
Oh, goodness. Right. Marshall was still here. What was she thinking, being so vulnerable in front of a stranger? “Y-yes. Sorry.”
“Hey, don’t apologize. I find your honesty refreshing.”
Her eyes shot toward his again, but no, his serious gaze seemed just as genuine as his tone. Still . . . “We should leave you in peace.”
“Eh, peace is overrated.”
It was totally her imagination, but the way he looked at her—gaze narrowed but soft—made her feel like he saw something there worth knowing. But that was ridiculous. She wasn’t anything special.
Besides, she’d misread a guy’s interest before, and she wasn’t making that mistake again. “I have a dinner to get ready for, and . . .” Her excuse trailed off.
“Ah, I see.” A tease lit his eyes. “Hot date with your boyfriend?”
Sudden laughter burst from her throat. “Um, no.” What would this guy say if he knew Shannon had never been on a date, much less had a boyfriend?
In the distance, seagulls swooped into the water, hunting for a late breakfast.
She pointed at Noah. “Besides my dad, brother, and a passel of cousins and uncles, that is the only man in my life.”
As if sensing Shannon’s attention, the kid looked up and waved, a smile overtaking his face. Yes, they were going to be okay, even if the wait to be together was longer than she’d like. In the meantime, his social worker Miranda Shubert would make sure Noah was placed in good temporary foster homes once Florence moved. Shannon had already connected with Miranda several times, and she was the one who had suggested the adoption agency Shannon had chosen one town over.
Marshall squinted at Noah. “I mean, he’s a little short, but I can see his appeal.”
Shannon couldn’t help but giggle. Oy, she must sound like a schoolgirl to this sophisticated guy, not a twenty-seven-year-old woman.
Marshall studied her for a beat before looking away and clearing his throat. “Hey, do you mind if I play a round of catch with Noah before you go?”
Really? He wasn’t anxious to escape? “No, I don’t mind.”
“Great.” He jogged toward Noah, holding up a hand and shouting something the wind carried away.
Moving back toward the rock where apparently Marshall had sat not twenty minutes ago, Shannon hunkered down to watch as Marshall and Noah tossed the football back and forth along the stretch of beach tucked away from the rest of the town. Lucky bounded between them, following the trajectory of the ball in an attempt to retrieve it.
A strange sensation slowly worked its way through Shannon’s veins as she looked on. Something about the scene in front of her called, beckoned—demanded she stop sitting on the sidelines. Standing, Shannon brushed off the sand clinging to the backs of her legs and walked toward the guys.
Noah cheered as she approached Marshall. He lobbed the ball her way and she grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut as she held out her hands in an attempt to catch it. It gave a telltale thwack as it hit the ground.
“You know, it’s a lot easier to catch when you can actually see it coming.” Marshall advanced, leaned down to pick up the ball, and slipped it into her fingers.
“You’d think I’d know that by now. My brother used to play football.” She turned and lobbed the ball toward Noah—or attempted to, anyway. It fell pathetically short, giving Lucky the chance he’d been looking for to swoop in and steal it. He took off running toward the rocks, Noah shouting and hot on his trail. “Well, it’s official. I’m going to be the worst boy mom ever.”
“No way. I don’t even know your name and I can tell you’re going to be an amazing mother.”
His declaration stole her breath.
It was dumb to be so affected by the confidence in a total stranger’s tone, but still it meant something to her. Not even her parents had seemed so sure of her decision to adopt when she’d informed them about it a little over a week ago.
She hugged her waist. “Shannon.” The word
