Bronte glanced over her shoulder to see whom her mother was talking to.
A mirage.
A hallucination.
A dream.
She pinched herself. Nope, it was real. He was real. And walking toward her.
The moment Chris’s eyes met hers, there was a slight hitch in his step, but her mom didn’t notice as she ushered him toward the family.
“Come meet everybody.” Starting with Bronte’s dad, she gestured around the table. “You know Steven already. This is Shelley and her husband, Thomas, and Zoe. Zoe, honey, you need to sit on your bottom, not on your feet. And my son, Fitzgerald, he’s the one I told you about.”
“What?” Fitz asked, poking his head around his mother’s shoulder. “What are you saying about me?”
Bronte watched in shock as her mother explained how Wes, Fitz’s old friend, had set up Chris in the house next door.
“Man, I haven’t talked to him in a while,” Fitz said. “I’ve been so busy. How’s he doing?”
Chris’s eyes flickered to Bronte before he answered. “He’s doing good. I heard you two were pretty tight back in the day.”
“That we were.” Fitz grinned impishly then introduced his family. “This is my wife, Amanda, and those three running around are Caleb, Luke, and Matthew. Boys, time to eat.” He whistled through his teeth. “Let’s go.” The three brothers made their way to the table with Luke lagging behind, flapping his hands back and forth.
Pattie finally turned to Bronte, who froze as Chris’s gaze roamed over her face as if he had discovered some long-lost artifact. “And this is my youngest—”
“Bronte.” Chris smiled, and she lost her breath. Lost her mind.
“You know each other?” her mom asked.
“We were on the same plane coming back from Chicago,” he said, closing the gap between himself and Bronte. “I can’t believe it.”
Hunter held out his hand to Chris, halting his movement toward her. “What a small world. I didn’t catch your name.”
He stared down at Hunter’s hand for a few moments before shaking it. “Chris.”
Hunter pulled his hand away and dropped it around Bronte’s shoulders. “Chris, nice to meet you. I’m Bronte’s boyfriend, Hunter.”
Bronte’s eyes darted between the two men. Hunter, tall and clean-cut in his crisp button-down sweater and perfectly styled crew cut, next to Chris, only a couple inches taller than Bronte’s own five foot seven inches. With his shaggy hair, scruffy beard, and dark clothes, Chris and Hunter couldn’t be more different.
Conventional wisdom would say Bronte belonged with Hunter. He was the model boyfriend by most standards—handsome, good job, nice family. Yet, when she studied Chris, she didn’t care about any of that. The mental checklist she’d made for the “right guy” didn’t have any boxes for mysterious brown eyes, alluring charm, or a mouth she couldn’t stop staring at. There was nothing about Chris she should have been attracted to. She barely knew him, and yet…
God, she wanted to kiss those lips. Lips that were slightly turned down into a frown now.
Bronte met Chris’s gaze for only a fraction of a second before his eyes moved past her as he cleared his throat. “Well, it’s nice to meet everybody. I’m gonna get going.”
Pattie shook her head. “I thought you would eat dinner with us.”
“I don’t want to impose.”
Bronte was rooted to the ground as her dad gestured to an open spot next to him. “Nonsense. We have enough to feed an army. Have a seat.”
Chris sat down, and Bronte couldn’t believe this was happening. It couldn’t be any worse.
Until her mom rubbed his back, smiling warmly at him.
And it was officially way worse.
Chris was welcomed into the family, and what Bronte thought was a slight fissure in her relationship with Hunter had the potential to develop into a huge chasm.