Free My Nora by Holley Trent Page A

the painting “The Swamp Is His Moat” and signed it with a flourish as soon as it was dry.
    Nora knew she had Matt to thank for the inspiration behind the painting. She would have never considered paddling into the swamp on her own. Thoughts of the aftermath in his carport had kept her up all that evening — her skin prickling at the memory of his touch. Heart racing at a phantom echo of his deep voice in her ear. The thought of his strong body. Gentle spirit. The way he looked at her like she had some value. Then she’d run away like a coward because she didn’t know what else to do.
    She took a picture of the large canvas and emailed it to Bennie. Bennie, still going on and on about Chad, enthusiastically asked when she should drive down to fetch it.
    “Don’t worry about that,” Nora said when she called. Now that she had a roof and four walls to hold everything in, she could actually afford to leave the house without worrying about theft. “I’ll drive it up myself. I’ve got some things I need to get done in Baltimore.”
    “Anything I can help with?”
    “No, honey. I need to do this myself.”
    *
    In the early morning of the following Monday as he was walking out onto his deck, preparing to head to the fishery, Matt found Nora waiting on his steps. He looked at her with surprise, standing there dressed in slim black pants and a long burgundy sweater that set off the warm undertones in her skin. On top of her head she wore a brimmed cable-knit cap, but had neglected to push all of her hair up into it as one plaited lock tried to escape just over her ear. Matt’s gaze fell to it, fingers itching to touch her. She had taken the trouble to put on a bit of eyeliner and dab some shimmering blush on her cheeks that made her look radiant.
    Matt opened his mouth to say something, but before he could spit out the apology he thought Nora deserved for his behavior after their outing, she said, “I have to be in D.C. by lunchtime to deliver a painting before the gallery owner leaves for his Thanksgiving vacation.”
    “You finished another painting?”
    She looked down at her black leather boots. “Yeah. Only Bennie has seen it.”
    Matt nodded and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He tried not to feel hurt. “What’s it of?”
    Nora met his gaze and cringed. “I’ll show you a picture when I get back. I should be home late tonight if you want to come over. I have heat now.”
    Matt said nothing. He appreciated the invitation. It was a door he’d been wishing she’d open, but he was afraid of her tentativeness. He didn’t know what it meant.
    “Hey, the reason I came over is to let you know if you wanted to hunt while I was gone, it’s fine with me. I wanted to thank you for taking me out on your boat.” She put her hand into the kangaroo pocket of her sweater and pulled out a tri-folded sheet of paper. “It helped me paint something I would have never thought of otherwise.”
    Matt took the “Permission to Hunt” document and examined it quietly.
    “I figured that as long as I’m not here, I don’t have to worry about getting shot through my windows,” she said, forcing a laugh.
    Matt re-folded the paperwork and pressed it back at Nora. “I don’t want that.” When Nora didn’t immediately take it back, he pulled open her pocket and placed it inside.
    Her face fell. “I don’t understand. I thought … ”
    “Nora.” He gripped her shoulders gently and forced her to look up into his eyes. “I don’t want you thinking the only reason I want to spend time with you is so I can chase deer on the property line.”
    Matt could see her struggle to swallow as she looked at her idling car or the empty fields or anywhere besides Matt’s eyes. “Isn’t it?”
    “No!” he hissed, dropping his hands from her shoulders and using them to rake through his untended hair. “That’s what I wanted at first, yes. But that’s before I met you. Hunting’s not important to me right now. I