“Well, if you ask me, I think Nate definitely shows classic signs of being dropped on his head,” Ben says.

“No one asked you,” Nate replies, laughing. He winks at me before he looks ahead, and my insides flutter.

Ben ignores him. “Remember when he shaved it back in middle school? So lumpy.” He looks back at his brother, pointing to his head.

Nate feigns offense. “My head is near perfect in its head-like shape. And I looked awesome bald.” He leans down so close to me that I can feel his stubble against the shell of my ear. “I really did.”

With hair, without hair. I can’t imagine Nate not looking good.

“Everyone looks awesome bald when it’s by choice,” Jessa says. “Once the Wright family male-pattern baldness shows up, you’ll be singing a different tune.”

“There’s always Rogaine.” Ben self-consciously rubs the back of his head.

Gabby tries to be discreet when she leans back to get a better look at his hair situation, and I have to laugh. Madeline breaks away from Gabby and Jessa and runs ahead of us, her long, curly brown hair flowing behind her. Jessa runs after her and tickles her when she finally catches up, and the two of them collapse onto the ground in a fit of laughter.

“I wanted to tell you,” Gabby says, “Ben and I are going out to dinner with Ethan and Emily tonight.” She slowly turns and looks at me, eyes wary, like she’s nervous about my reaction. It’s not like I expected her to spend all of her time with me. What was the point of inviting Ethan if he was just going to be relegated to unwelcome status, isolated from his best friend? I said I was okay with him coming, and I think I’ve acted like it so far.

“I hope you have fun,” I tell her.

“Where in the hell are you going to dinner? The gas station off the main road?” Nate laughs at his joke, getting a kick out of himself. I can’t lie, it’s kind of adorable.

“Is there nothing around here?” I realize that I haven’t stepped foot off of this property in the few days that I’ve been here, and I didn’t really pay all that much attention on the ride to the house on the day I arrived.

“There’s less than nothing around here,” Nate explains. “Why do you think we have so much to do here at the house? It’s a self-contained entertainment environment.”

“We’re going to a place just outside of Richmond,” Ben says, like it’s nothing to drive an hour away just to have dinner with his friend. Over the course of the past six months since Ethan and I broke up, I’ve wanted to hug Ben for being so great about the whole thing. For being on my side, but for managing to keep Ethan as a friend without ever condoning what he did.

“Hey,” Nate says, sliding his hand down my arm to get my attention. His fingers leave a heated trail in their wake, and I shiver. “How would you feel about me making you dinner?”

Four days, Callie. Four days. Be careful.

I smile at him. “I’d feel pretty great about it.”

NATE STANDS at the kitchen island, carefully cutting slices from a fresh loaf of bread. I have to admit that I’m really impressed with how seriously he’s taking his offer to cook me dinner. I was expecting macaroni and cheese or some other bachelor speciality, but he’s really trying here. Once he’s finally satisfied with the bread, he places four slices on the cutting board, inspecting how fit they are for toasting. There’s a plate full of cooked bacon resting on the stove, and my stomach is growling. I asked him if I could help earlier, in part to be polite and in part to speed this process along so we could eat. He flatly refused, preferring, in his words, that I “watch the master work.”

“What are you-”

Nate turns and gently places his finger on my lips, then quietly shushes me.

“I need to concentrate, Callie,” he says. I nearly laugh; it’s so cute the way he’s trying to turn sandwich making into an art.

He places the bread in the toaster, then starts slicing the tomato as precisely as he sliced the bread. He gets into a groove right about the time that Amy walks by the kitchen and then backtracks, stopping in the doorway.

“Sandwiches, Nate?” she asks, shaking her head. “That’s not how you woo a lady.”

Nate’s shoulders slump and he drops the knife on the cutting board. “Nobody’s wooing anyone, Mom. I think this one’s woo-proof.” He turns and winks at me, giving me a soft smile.

A few days ago I would’ve thought he was correct, but now…I’m just not sure. I think my stomach wants to prove him wrong though, because the butterflies are out in full force.

Amy laughs like she can’t believe what she just heard. “Oh, honey. No one’s woo-proof. We all like to be wooed.”

“Dad!” Nate shouts as he fans the tomato slices out on the cutting board.

Jack appears in the doorway seconds later, wrapping one arm around Amy’s waist. She places her hand atop his, and I find myself getting a little jealous of how cute they are. My parents could barely be in the same room together when they were married.

“Mom’s talking about wooing again,” he says, trying so hard to sound annoyed and failing miserably.

“He doesn’t need your advice,” Jack says, looking lovingly down at his wife. “He learned from the best.”

Amy throws her head back, laughing. “You are an expert wooer.”

“Someone please say ‘woo’ again,” Nate says with mock exasperation.

“Wooooooooooo,” Madeline yells as she runs past the kitchen door, and all four of us crack up.

“Let’s leave them be,” Jack says, gently pulling Amy away from the door.

“Clean up your mess, Nate.” Amy winks at me before she takes Jack’s hand and walks away.

“I love your family,” I say, stealing a small piece of bacon from the plate on the stove. Is there anything more delicious than bacon? Answer: no.

“You wouldn’t love them so much if you grew up with them.” Nate’s concentrating on spreading a layer of mayonnaise over a piece of toast.

I know he’s just teasing me and I wouldn’t expect anything else from him, but I want to tell him that growing up with them would’ve been better than growing up the way I did, with two parents who constantly screamed at each other until my father took off one day and never came back. But we’re having such a good time together, and I want to keep things light. So I take a deep breath and swallow the words that are right on the tip of my tongue.

Nate looks over at me, a sad smile on his beautiful face. “I said the wrong thing, didn’t I?”

I don’t know how he always manages to see the things that I’m trying to hide.

“No.” I shake my head, probably a little too quick of an answer to be believable. Still, I give him my best smile.

“Liar.” He bumps his arm against mine, and god…his smile just lights me up inside.

I feel like I should reply, but I wait too long and by the time I think of something to say, there’s been too much silence. It’s too late. Nate seems to have moved on for now, concentrating on finishing our dinner. He walks over to the refrigerator and pulls out a container of potato salad that he says he made earlier. He cuts the sandwiches diagonally and puts two dollops of the potato salad on each plate. He puts sprigs of parsley on each plate, trying to make it look fancy. Surprisingly, he succeeds.

“I’m impressed,” I tell him. Not that what he made is gourmet or anything, but because it’s simple and it looks delicious.

“Sandwiches are a staple of mine. I’m also really good at ordering pizza.”

He picks up the plates and I grab our drinks and we head out to a table on the back deck. Two sets of silverware are laying on pretty gingham napkins, and there are two jarred candles burning. I raise my eyebrow at him.

“It’s citronella,” he says quickly, defensively. “For mosquitoes.”

I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “This seems kind of woo-y.”

He looks at me, and there’s something behind his eyes. Hope, maybe…I don’t know. But whatever it is makes it difficult for me to look away. “I thought you couldn’t be wooed.”