When You Look at Me (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 2)

by Pepper Basham

  She lifted her cheek from his shoulder and met his gaze. His eyes held hers, their faces mere inches apart, and any hint of fear at his proximity dissipated in his gentle expression. Fear was easier to fight with love as your weapon.

  “A sweet song?”

  His lips quirked slightly. “About a cat getting lost in a rainstorm and finally being found.”

  Julia chuckled. “Unexpected.”

  “That’s only one of many unexpected songs my granny used to sing.” His gaze dropped to her lips then came back to her eyes.

  With a tremor of uncertainty, she raised her palm and smoothed her fingers over his cheek. “Thank you.”

  One of his brows rose. “For what?”

  “You are the sweetest”—she shook her head, words failing to match the emotions pressing in on her chest— “gentlest of men, and I am grateful to know you.”

  His gaze searched hers as if he were gauging her response to his approach. Every inch of her skin stood on edge, waiting for him to bridge the inches between them, wondering what music might play within her when his lips met hers. Fear’s undercurrent tugged ever so slightly at her thoughts, but desire pierced in against it, vying for a chance to see if his kiss was as sweet as the man.

  Just as Julia started closing her eyes, Rose’s smacking noises took a frustrated and huffy turn. Henry’s smile crooked. He looked at her through lowered lashes and she almost split the distance between their mouths just to abate her curiosity, but…Rose needed her.

  The kiss would have to wait.

  But not for too long, if she had anything to say about it.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  “You composed your first song when you were seven?” Julia leaned her chin on her palm as they sat near each other at the little table in her apartment. “What instruments were you playing by then?”

  “Piano. And the violin too—but poorly. I didn’t take up the guitar until I was ten.”

  “Oh, only ten.” She rolled her eyes, enjoying the new intimacy of dinner together and the return of the comradery she’d missed with him since Rose’s birth. “What a slacker.”

  He grinned and leaned back in his chair. “Says the woman who mastered several of Beethoven’s piano sonatas by the time she was…” He squinted to the ceiling attempting to remember. “Nine, was it?”

  “Well, he was my favorite.”

  “His work is excellent.” He took the last bite of the casserole on his plate. “Much like your cooking.”

  She placed her palms on the table and stood, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Rose, who was sleeping in the next room. “If you think that’s good, just wait until you try dessert.” He began to rise but she waved him to remain seated. “No, no, let me serve you. I must serve the dark chocolate torte. It’s just that good.”

  “Very well.” He placed his napkin back on his lap. “Far be it from me to steal your joy.”

  “And it’s topped with homemade raspberry syrup from my granny’s house.” She took their plates from the table and placed them on the kitchen counter along with the dirty salad plates. The vintage apple clock over the stove read nine thirty.

  She had, at the most, another hour with Henry before Rose woke. Dessert and then…a kiss? But how was she going to get it?

  She took the torte from the refrigerator, rounded the corner, and placed the dessert on the table. Henry’s ready smile greeted her as she looked up from arranging two slices on small cream-colored plates. He’d wanted to kiss her several times before. They’d almost kissed twice, in fact.

  “This looks fantastic.” Henry pushed his fork into the torte.

  “It’s my favorite, but then I do have a weakness for chocolate.”

  His gaze shot to hers, his lashes long, smile tipped in the way that quickened her pulse. “Your kryptonite, is it?”

  Holy moly! That kissing idea sounded better and better all the time.

  Better than dark chocolate torte.

  She shot up from the table. “Let me get the…um…. raspberry syrup for the top.” A strange junior-high laugh slipped from her lips, and she walked backward toward the pantry. “It’s the perfect combo. Raspberries and kisses.” She gasped. “I mean, chocolate. Raspberries and chocolate.” She thumbed over her shoulder toward the pantry door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Clearly, the last thing on her mind was chocolate. Or raspberry syrup. She sighed and scanned the pantry. How exactly did someone create a perfect kissing moment?

  Oh right, the raspberry syrup was stocked on the top shelf—too high for her to reach without a stepstool.

  But the perfect height for…a very dashing and helpful Brit right around the corner...

  And close quarters tended to encourage romantic-like thoughts, right?

  She cast her gaze heavenward. Is it wrong to pray for a kiss, Lord? If anybody deserves a great kiss, Lord, it’s Henry.

  With a deep breath for strength, she peered around the pantry door into the little dining area. “Um…Henry, would you mind helping me for a second?”

  “Not at all.” He placed his napkin on the table and walked toward the pantry.

  The compact pantry. The one that would closet them close together within a mixture of spice smells and vanilla. Oh yes, indeed!

  “What may I do for you?”

  Kiss me? She cleared her throat, working up to the request, and gestured toward the top shelf. “I can’t reach the raspberry syrup up there.”

  “You wish me to fetch it for you?”

  Fetch it? That sounded much nicer and strangely familiar. “Yes, please. Would you mind grabbing...or...um...fetching the syrup, up there in the long-neck bottles?”

  With ease he stood on tiptoe and took the syrup from the shelf, then turned to give it to her, but still wasn’t close enough for her to initiate a kiss. She frowned and swallowed. Henry, will you kiss me? It was so easy to say in her head.

  “Um…perhaps you could…fetch…” She scanned the shelves, pausing on a box on the top next to the remaining bottles of raspberry syrup. What had she put in it? “That box, there.”

  He tilted his head, his narrowed gaze searching hers as he reached for the box, then brought it to her, the top slipping off to reveal Christmas ornaments.

  His brows rose. Her face flushed with warmth. “Ah, that’s where I put those. I’d wondered.” Sort of. Not. She winced. There had to be an easier way to go about this.

  He stepped a little closer, box still in his arms. “Christmas ornaments in March?”

  “Yea…um…obviously not what I thought they were.” She forced a chuckle. “I guess you can put those back, if you don’t mind.”

  As he turned, she searched the pantry for something else—something closer to her. And then she saw a perfect item on the shelf above her right shoulder. “Henry?”

  He stepped toward her, his expression unreadable except for the slight slant of those lips. “Yes, Julia?”

  His voiced zoomed low, raspy, casting a tingle spell down her neck. She took another look at the pitcher, then shrugged a shoulder, offering him a wobbly smile. “Fetch me that pitcher?”

  His eyes widened for a second, and then his lips twisted a little in the way she knew showed his pleasure. He’d caught The Princess Bride reference. Without breaking eye contact, he reached over her head, took the pitcher, and brought it down between them. He stayed close. Inches away.

  “As you wish.”

  Her grin bloomed Hollywood happy-ending wide, pressing into her cheeks. Her cue. With the slightest hesitation, she breached the small space between them and took his face in her hands. His hint of afternoon scruff tickled her palms, deepening the intimacy of her touch. Her throat went dry, a warning from the past, but she refused to retreat.

  Not this time.

  Henry stared at her, unmoving, a question in his eyes, before he closed them, almost as if he waited for her to finish what she’d started. The smile on those tempting lips encouraged her forward.

  A remnant of fear grip
ped her breath, but she kept her focus on his face. This was the man who’d bantered with her in Aunt Millie’s house, who’d quietly offered to help her dad even though it wasn’t his preference, who’d carried her down a hillside when she’d gone into labor…the man who’d written a song to strengthen her courage. Her Henry. The song he’d written her began a soft melody in her mind, combatting the panicked whispers with a crescendo of hope. Strength.

  Studying him, memorizing the crest of his smile and the way his long eyelashes lay against his cheeks, she closed the gap from his lips to hers. He didn’t reach for her, but his lips received hers with a welcoming caress. She paused, pulling back just enough to feel his smile spread against her mouth, and then she kissed him again. Longer this time. Easier and sweeter.

  One of his hands slipped up to cradle her face. Her arms wound around his neck, palms moving to his hair. Every kiss lingered a little longer, exploring more, giving more, sharing the pleasure of a met expectation—no, beyond expectations.

  He kissed like he played music: intricately, passionately, with his entire focus.

  And she swooned from the toes up as a grateful recipient of that intense concentration.

  He pulled away first, his gaze roaming her face as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I prefer this sort of dessert, dove. It’s the perfect pinnacle of a lovely evening with a beautiful woman.”

  She leaned forward, rubbing her nose against his in a playful attempt to stay closer to those tasty lips. “It’s the best kind of dessert, you know? Delicious, lingering, and not one calorie. In fact, it may even burn a few.”

  His soft caress on her face stopped with his fingers on her chin. “I’m happy to indulge in a taste test whenever you wish.”

  She rewarded his sweetness with another kiss.

  “I think you already know this, but I want to tell you that I don’t take your affections lightly.” He placed the pitcher back on the shelf, so both of his hands could settle around her waist. “I’m not one to trifle with your heart.”

  “I know.” She placed her palm against his chest, committing this moment to memory. “Neither am I.”

  “And I haven’t a great deal of experience with romantic relationships.”

  “Despite the appearance my circumstances give as a single mom, neither do I.”

  He brought his lips down for another brief kiss, keeping his eyes closed even when he drew back, as if soaking in the sensations. Oh, how she could identify with him. Her body had never felt so alive with glorious sensations, and her lips wanted to thank him once again for the experience.

  “I would imagine you’ve had more than me.” He raised a brow as his fingers trailed down her cheek. “I can count the number of girlfriends I’ve had on three fingers.”

  “I can’t understand why. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but relationships require actually talking to women. If it weren’t for the unique way in which we’ve been placed together, I don’t know as I would have had the opportunity of benefiting from your special attention.”

  “I’ve never been so thankful for cupcakes in all my life.” She grinned and gave the front of his shirt a playful tug. “And I have a sneaking suspicion we had a few budding matchmakers in our midst.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  “And I wouldn’t be so sure about my romantic experience either if I were you. The only guy who ever made a lasting positive impression on me was Daniel Crane.”

  His brow rose. “Should I be jealous?”

  She laughed and kissed his smile. “Third grade. He left a note on my desk that read, ‘“Will you be my girlfriend? Check yes or no.’”

  His nose slid over hers. “And you said yes.”

  “I had to,” she whispered, eyes fluttering closed. “His penmanship for a third grader was too beautiful to ignore.”

  “I feel a need to practice my penmanship.”

  Oh, how his voice melted over her in a wonderful frisson. She could get lost in his touch, his tenderness, much too easily. But she shouldn’t. There were things she needed to clarify before dark chocolate kisses and sweet words annihilated her common sense. “Henry, you need to know, before we move forward with this, that I…I won’t go into a relationship half-heartedly. I mean, I’m a mom now, and I would look at a relationship with the mindset of forever, not just a few casual dates. And…and I think I already know the answer to this, but…but I want to make sure, because I’m…I’m ready to move forward…with you.”

  Henry’s hands cupped her cheeks and he held her gaze, looking at her as if she were treasured more than anything else in his whole world. “Julia, I’ve been dreaming of forever with you since we first met.”

  And she swooned from the kneecaps upward.

  “For someone who is more comfortable with music than words, you’re doing a fabulous job with them.” She breathed out a sigh before braiding his fingers through hers and walking back out into the kitchen.

  “You inspire me.” He paused and gestured back toward the pantry. “Didn’t you want a pitcher?”

  She shook her head and slipped her arm around his waist, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Nope. I just wanted you.”

  “Oh really?” He pulled her close. “Now that is music to my ears.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A nd with that first kiss, everything changed, yet in a strange way stayed the same. The friendship they’d developed over the past five weeks smoothed into a deeper relationship with the wonderful bonuses of kisses, hand holding, and hugs.

  Julia grinned. And Henry was an excellent hugger.

  The morning after their pantry kisses, she came down the stairs to find a note for her on the communication board. When she opened the simple card, a laugh burst out.

  Will you be my girlfriend? Please check one.

  Two boxes with the words yes and no followed.

  He must have left the note early in the morning, because by the time she’d finally gotten herself and Rose together, Wes and Henry had already left for the day. Her fingers skimmed over the edges of the card. Two months ago, she couldn’t see romance in her future at all, and now? Now she couldn’t envision her future without Henry. She reached for the pen hanging from a string and thumbtack on the board and with a most decided circle—in purple ink, no less—she gave her answer as her phone buzzed to life with a message.

  Have time for lunch today? It’s a teacher workday. Soph, Rachel, and I are all free. Adorable newborns welcome. Chops? Lucy’s?

  Julia looked down at Rose, snug in the baby wrap Julia wore as she navigated some light baking in the kitchen to try to get back into some sort of routine. Lunch with her sisters would be a wonderful break in her usual routine of staying around the apartment and trying out new recipes.

  Chops sounds great. I could go for a juicy burger right now.

  After breakfast, filling out some college forms, and getting herself and Rose ready for the day, she’d changed Rose’s outfit three times in as many hours due to various leaks in several directions—she successfully made it to Chops on time.

  Success took on a whole new meaning with a newborn thrown into the mix.

  New mom note: Double or triple the amount of time it takes to get anywhere. And always pack extra…everything.

  “Oh my goodness, she’s on time.” Eisley stood from one of the booths located in the middle of the rustic burger and steak joint, coming forward with her arms wide.

  “And she looks fabulous,” Sophie added. “The shoes are adorable. Stylish yet practical. Very smart for a mama.”

  Julia scanned her five-year-old jeans, loose lavender blouse, and simple ballet shoes. Oh, Sophie had reached far and wide for that compliment.

  “It’s all about the clothes, isn’t it?” Rachel squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head.

  Sophie’s palms raised with her usual dramatic flair. “It’s always about the clothes.” The youngest Jenkins’
s serious expression failed to disguise the mirth in her eyes.

  Rachel glanced up with a what do we do with her? Look, then unleashed her infrequent smile. “Hungry?”

  Julia laughed. “Starving.”

  “Then you should probably hand over that baby so your hands are free to hold the menu.” Rachel motioned a gimme wave with her hands. “And I get first dibs because I didn’t care about your punctuality or your clothes.”

  “Hey.” Sophie’s porcelain brow puckered. “Her ability to look fabulous this soon after having a baby deserves kudos.”

  Julia laughed, handing a wide-awake Rose to Rachel and taking a seat across from Eisley and Sophie, with Rachel sitting to her right. “I’m not going to lie. It took me an hour just to get myself ready.” She raised a finger. “And that wasn’t including my shower and hair drying. Seriously, Eisley, how on earth did you do it? I can’t imagine going back to work with a baby—and you had two other kids to orchestrate along with a baby.”

  “Well, you sort it out as you go. I’m glad you have this time to adjust, Jules. Working was super tough on my heart”—she pressed a palm to her chest— “but I think the kids are okay.”

  “Oh, it’s clear you’ve spent plenty of time with them outside of work,” Rachel said, giving Rose a kiss on her cheek, “from all the weirdness.”

  “Hey.” Eisley shot Rachel a mock-glare that dissolved into a smile. “Weirdness runs throughout our family. No one’s safe and it can’t be blamed solely on me. Have you met our dad?”

  The sisters murmured agreement.

  Once the server came for their orders, Sophie turned her wide hazel eyes on Julia, her grin mischievous enough to usher images of pixies and fairy dust. “So, what’s going on with you and Henry?”

  “Good grief, Sophie. The server hasn’t even brought the cheese sticks yet, and you’re already talking about the main course.” Rachel shrugged an apology to Julia.