A Shot at Love

Meeting the Westbrooks

I scowl at Noah, but he only smirks wider—my face flushing instantly.

We're totally busted.

"I... ugh..." I stammer, stealing a glance at Noah, whose mouth still wears a smudge of my lipstick. A laugh slips out as I reach up to wipe it away, then kneel to grab the bouquet of roses, smoothing my dress as I rise.

Noah reaches for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "No, we don't have a light, bro," he says dryly, amusement flickering at the corners of his lips as he claps his younger brother on the back. "Kingston, meet my brother—Drew."

Drew does a quick double take before breaking into a grin, pulling a small plastic container from his pocket—Zyn, Smooth flavor stamped across the lid. He fumbles with it for a second, then slips a pouch into his lower lip.

"So, this is the woman who's made my big bro a changed man," Drew says with a smile, extending a hand. "Very nice to meet you. He's way less of a grouch these days—so, thanks for that."

I giggle lightly, hugging the kraft paper bouquet closer as I shake his hand with my free one. "Happy to be of service, Drew. Thanks for having me."

Drew gives Noah a nod of approval—one of those cheeky you did good looks—and Noah rolls his eyes.

"Mom's dying to meet you—come on," Drew says, already making his way toward the front door, waving a hand impatiently as if there's no time to waste.

Just before stepping inside, I glance back at Noah. Our eyes lock, warmth flooding his gaze, and his hand instinctively finds the small of my back, guiding me gently forward.

We step into the estate, and there she is—Jacquelyn Westbrook, poised gracefully at the base of the sweeping staircase like a modern-day Grace Kelly. She radiates effortless elegance, her buttery cream blouse perfectly tucked into high-waisted silk trousers, a delicate strand of pearls resting at her collarbone, and not a single golden hair out of place. She's breathtaking—composed, commanding, utterly refined.

Just behind her stands a woman in her late twenties, honey-brown hair cascading over her shoulders, with piercing blue eyes—the exact same shade as Noah's. I blink. Noah's never mentioned having a sister.

"Kingston, I'd like you to meet my mother, Jacquelyn... and my cousin, Sophie," Noah says.

Ah, cousin. That makes more sense.

"Oh, Kingston!" Jacquelyn breathes, gliding toward me and wrapping me in a warm embrace.
"You have no idea how happy I am to finally meet you." Her touch is as soft as the gardenia scent drifting off her.

"It's an absolute pleasure," I say with a smile, handing over the peach and white rose arrangement. "These are for you."

"They're stunning!" Jacquelyn gushes, bringing the bouquet to her nose with a slow inhale. "They smell absolutely divine. Thank you, Kingston. Come in, come in!"

Sophie rushes up to me, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Kingston! I've heard so much about you!" She pulls me into a tight hug, her vibrant energy practically bouncing off her.

"Is she here yet?" a tiny voice squeals gleefully from the kitchen. A moment later, a little girl darts into view, caramel-blonde hair tumbling down her back in loose waves. She can't be older than six. The instant she spots Noah, her face brightens, and she launches herself straight into his arms. "Uncle Noah!"

My eyes travel to Noah, catching a shift in his expression—soft, unguarded, possibly the most vulnerable I've ever seen him. It's a look that says everything. He wants this. He wants to be a father someday. My mind flashes back to our conversation on the plane—when we talked about family, and how deeply it mattered to him. And at this very moment, I know with absolute certainty—he'd make the best father in the world.