Slow Dancing at Sunrise

by Jo McNally

  Luke had more than a little trouble getting his voice to work. He wanted to argue with Father Joe, but he couldn’t seem to clear the heaviness clogging his throat. Joe chuckled softly and headed for the door.

  “Have a good night, lad. You’ll need your rest for the weekend you’ve got coming.”

  * * *

  ON SATURDAY MORNING of festival weekend, Luke’s worst fears were realized. He knew Helen had been too easy on him all week about not putting in more time on the festival preparations. This morning she’d knocked on his door and told him she’d woken up with a “headache” and thought the festival would be “too much” for her. As if.

  And all her little book club cronies, who’d worked all day Friday to set things up, were mysteriously suffering from various ailments, too. He could either leave Whitney on her own in the booth on a perfect September afternoon when the festival would be wall-to-wall people, or go stand in that confined space with the one person who had the power to destroy what was left of his heart. Who was he kidding? There wasn’t anything left.

  He got to the booth before she did, because she was off collecting the first prize trophy for Best Parade Float. It was no surprise the Falls Legend Winery float won. It was so over-the-top ridiculous, everyone wanted to take a selfie in front of it. And damned if they didn’t come looking for the Falls Legend booth right after that. He was quickly overwhelmed with customers tasting—and buying—their wines.

  When Whitney finally arrived, she didn’t say a word to him, just jumped in to help handle the crowd in front of their booth. Her hair was falling free around her face in soft, dark waves. She was wearing snug jeans and a silver-blue sweater that matched the new wine labels and sign. Even with the small crescent bruise still visible under her eye, she was stunning. She didn’t seem annoyed to see him there. She didn’t even seem surprised.

  They fell into a natural rhythm, moving around each other smoothly, handing each other whatever wine a customer requested. When she passed behind him, she’d rest her hand on his back, taking his breath away every single time. She was acting as if he hadn’t ended things between them. As if they were still together. It was killing him, because he wanted that to be true more than anything. She wore a smile he couldn’t quite define, and the mystery of it had him looking her way every chance he got.

  She seemed relaxed and confident. Not like a woman who’d been dumped. Her smile was...serene. That made sense, because she was probably off to Dallas soon, and that fancy job and new life that wouldn’t include him. Good for her. She greeted more people by name than he expected, laughing with them as if she belonged there. Her happiness rubbed on him like sandpaper, and his mood spiraled. The day he told her to take the job and go, she’d acted as if he’d crushed her. She’d bounced back pretty quickly, though. And Father Joe thought Luke had broken her heart. Looked like the good padre didn’t know everything.

  Luke tried to ignore her, but a fresh burst of her happy laughter made it impossible not to look. She was talking to Meg McAllister from the Rendezvous Falls Business Owners Association, and Whitney gestured toward something Meg held in her hand. She’d been handing out Falls Legend Winery booklets left and right all afternoon, and bright blue business cards, too. It wasn’t until now that he realized people were talking about the cards more than the wine or the booklets. Meg shook Whitney’s hand, congratulated her and took about a dozen more of the business cards. What the...?

  Whitney was handing a card to Steve Jenkins when Luke intercepted it, snapping it up to read for himself. In an instant, the noise, the crowds, the sweet smell of the grape pie stand next door simply vanished. He was pretty sure the ground under his feet vanished, as well. What he read made him feel like he was falling without a net to catch him.

  Whitney Foster, CPA

  Bookkeeping-Auditing-Taxes-Consulting

  A Local Accountant with Global Experience

  When he was finally able to tear his eyes from the card to look at Whitney, she was wearing that serene smile again. She gently arched a brow at him, waiting him out. In the meantime, Steve had moved into the booth and was manning the counter in Luke’s place, chuckling to himself as he poured wine for customers. It took another minute for Luke to gather his wits together and find his voice.

  “You’re staying?” It didn’t compute for him. Why would she stay in Rendezvous Falls?

  “Looks that way.”

  “But...why? What happened to Dallas?”

  She shook her head, laughing softly.

  “Luke, I never intended to go to Dallas.” She hesitated. “The only reason I started considering it was because of what happened between us. I didn’t want the job. I didn’t want to leave. How could I? I was already in love with you.”

  “You’re not.” She couldn’t be. Shouldn’t be.

  “Oh, I definitely am. And I realized something this week, watching the book club pitch in to save things and listening to their stories. To Helen’s story.” She reached for his hand. “What I heard was that love is hard. Messy. Contentious. Frustrating. Painful.” She squeezed his hand. “And worth it.”

  Steve laughed out loud behind Luke. He’d basically told him the same thing that night at the bar. Luke worked his jaw back and forth, ignoring the tiny spot of warmth growing in his chest. It felt a lot like hope, but that would only hurt him at the end of the day.

  “This isn’t the time for this conversation—”

  “You love me, too, Luke. I know you do.”

  Luke wondered how he could still be upright when he couldn’t feel his legs. But he could sure as hell feel his heart. It was thrashing around in his chest like a terrified animal trying to break free. His teeth ground together. He wasn’t going there. Not today. Not ever.

  “That doesn’t matter. We’re busy here, and we need to get back to what does matter. The winery.”

  He saw the flash of pain in her eyes, and his hand rose to touch her face. He stopped before he got there. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings. That’s why he was trying to keep her away—to protect her from being hurt. The truth crashed into him with so much power his knees nearly buckled again. It wasn’t about protecting Whitney. He was protecting himself. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to banish that traitorous thought.

  Her hand rested gently on his, and she moved it the rest of the way to her cheek. Her skin was soft, and wet. She was crying. He’d made her cry. He opened his eyes and was surprised to see her smiling brightly up at him.

  Her voice was triumphant. “You didn’t deny it.”

  “What?”

  The booth had gone eerily quiet. Over her shoulder, he noticed the crowd was still there—growing, even—but everyone was completely enthralled with what was happening between him and Whitney. His hand was still on her face, with hers holding it there.

  “You didn’t deny you love me. You gave me some BS about it, but you didn’t deny it.”

  A few women chuckled from the peanut gallery that had gathered. They always stick together. Wait—was that Helen? Miracle cure, much? He needed to end this game, before everyone’s hopes got too high. Before he allowed himself to hope at all.

  “I don’t...” He stopped. The words wouldn’t come. He tried again. “I don’t... Whit... I...”

  He looked into her eyes, and he was lost. No—he was found. She was smiling up at him, so sure of herself. So sure of him. She wasn’t pushing. Just patiently waiting for him to catch up.

  He shook his head and started to smile.

  “You’re really staying.”

  It wasn’t a question this time.

  “I’m really staying. No more running for me, Luke. I told you I belong wherever you are, and you belong here. Not because of promises you made, but because this is your town. Your place.” She glanced at the people watching them. Father Joe and some of the book club members were among them. “These people care about yo
u more than you know. You.” She put her other hand over his heart, and it leaped in response. “They care about the man you are. The man I love.” The warmth of hope was spreading now, filling his entire body, making him feel lightheaded and terrified. Whitney went on her toes and brushed his lips with hers.

  “I love you, Luke Rutledge. And I’m staying.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  WHITNEY FOUGHT TO keep her body from shaking. She’d laid everything on the line. With an audience. And now she waited, one hand holding Luke’s hand to her face, the other feeling the erratic pounding of his heart. There were distant sounds of festival revelry and rides and music, but the immediate vicinity of the Falls Legend Winery booth was silent. Everyone was waiting.

  Sure, she’d played it cool and confident to Luke, but it was all an act. What if he didn’t love her? What if he wouldn’t let himself love her? The man had been hurt. She’d been one of the many who’d hurt him. And now she’d pushed him into a corner and challenged him to admit he loved her in front of half the town. What if he wouldn’t trust her again? What if...

  His fingers moved against her cheek, so slightly she wasn’t sure she’d felt it. There. He did it again. She released his hand and closed her eyes, praying. He pushed her hair behind her ear, then slid around to hold the back of her head. His mouth moved against hers, almost reluctantly. He was fighting it. He was fighting loving her. He spoke against her lips.

  “Open your eyes.”

  She did. He was right there, eyes dark with emotion.

  “I want you looking at me when I say this. I want to be sure you understand.”

  Oh, god. He was going to turn her away. She was going to lose him. Her heart stopped.

  “I love you, Whitney. God help me, I do. I love you.”

  He kissed her hard and deep, and she thought she’d faint with relief. She grabbed his shoulders and held herself up, kissing him back as much as she could between crying and laughing and listening to the cheers of the crowd that had gathered. He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her shoulder, crushing her in his embrace. She felt the wetness of his tears on her skin and started crying all over again, overcome with emotion.

  “Okay, folks, the floor show is over!” Helen’s voice rang out from inside the booth. “And if you’d like to know the magic recipe for all of this lovey-dovey stuff, Luke’s favorite wine is the pinot noir he harvested with my late husband, and Whitney’s is our unoaked chardonnay from the steel tanks Tony invested in. Both are finalists in the wine competition today!”

  Luke and Whitney lifted their heads and watched in amusement. Helen continued her spiel, laughing with renewed life as she and Steve started handing out samples of the two wines as fast as they could pour them.

  “It’s as if my Tony is still looking over us today. As Tony used to say, ‘Vivi con passione. Ridi di cuore. Ama profondamente.’ That means live with passion, laugh out loud and love deeply.” Helen turned to Luke and Whitney and raised a glass in a toast. “To love!”

  The crowd cheered again, repeating the last two words loudly. Helen shooed Luke and Whitney out of the booth and told them to “go be in love somewhere out of her way.” Vickie and Cecile stepped into the booth to help Helen, as they’d planned when they’d cooked up this idea in the carriage house the other day.

  As they worked their way out of the crowd, people were clapping Luke on the back and congratulating him. He nodded absently, a baffled smile on his face, hardly saying a word. He’d never let himself trust people enough to learn that not everyone was judging him. It would be a while before he’d let himself believe it, but she’d help him get there.

  They moved away from the festival madness and walked up Main Street, their arms around each other’s waists, moving in unison with each other. Having a little more space and a little more quiet helped them both breathe easier. Her phone chirped with an incoming text. She fished it out of her pocket without letting go of Luke.

  “It’s from Evie.” She read the message and gave a little whoop of excitement. “Luke, we won!”

  “Yeah, I know. You won me and I won you.”

  She smacked him on the shoulder. “No... I mean yes...but that’s... Oh, never mind. I’m talking about the winery! The Legacy red won a silver in the reds, and the chardonnay won the gold medal for whites!” Another text came in. “And best overall for the festival! Oh, Luke! You did it!”

  He swung her around, lifting her feet right off the sidewalk. “We did it, babe.” He set her down and kissed her. “Helen’s right. We make one hell of a team. Let’s find her and celebrate.”

  They turned down the hill toward the festival, and he glanced at her with a grin as they walked. His delicious, relaxed, light-filled grin. She blinked back fresh tears.

  “What’s that look?” he asked.

  “This is what love looks like, my friend.” She nudged her hip against his. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re wearing the same goofy expression.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Goofy, huh?” Then his smile faded. “You decided to stay without knowing how I felt?”

  “Well, I had a pretty good idea, but yeah. I printed the business cards on Helen’s printer yesterday. I’m done running, Luke. I decided to stay and fight, because we’re worth it.”

  They walked on as he digested that.

  “I feel like a schmuck for not fighting for us. Thank god you never gave up.”

  She pulled him to a stop. “No. We’re not doing that. We’re not putting blame on ourselves or each other or our names or our families or anything else.”

  He stared at her, his eyes dark with emotion. “You know, I can’t imagine I could have really let you go in the end, Whit. You’re...you’re everything. You’re my world.”

  “I don’t think either one of us could have gone through with it, but we came awful close, didn’t we?” The thought sent a tremor of panic through her, and he saw it, pulling her close.

  “I swear, Whitney, I will never let that happen again. I can’t promise to be perfect, but I promise I’ll never let you go. I will always fight for you. For us.”

  Her heart swelled with love. “We’ve both made mistakes. But nothing that happened in the past matters anymore. This is us, and we start today. Right now.”

  He gave her a slanted smile, then a mock salute.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now you’re getting the idea!” She turned, but he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back.

  “Nice try, Miss Bossy Pants.” He kissed her until her head spun. “There’s only one way you’re getting away with making the rules here.”

  “Yeah? And what’s that?”

  “You’re gonna have to tell me you love me a lot.” His brows gathered. “I mean, not that you love me a lot, but you have to say it a lot.”

  Whitney put her hands on either side of his face. “Here’s an idea. What if I do both? Because I do love you a lot and I’m happy to say it a lot. I love you.”

  He stared at her in wonder. “I love you, too, Whitney. And I’ll tell you that every damn day until the end of time.” His arms wrapped around her. “That’s another promise. And you know what it means when I make a promise.”

  She smiled against his lips.

  “You stick.”

  “Forever.”

  EPILOGUE

  December 21

  LUKE’S ARM WAS firm around Whitney’s waist as he led her, blindfolded, up the stairs to his apartment. She trusted him completely. Even so, it was scary to go up the steps in pitch darkness. Her fingers dug into his arm until he let out a hiss.

  “Easy, woman. I’m not throwing you from the damn tower.”

  “How would I know what you’re doing? I can’t see anything!”

  “That’s how surprises are supposed to work. Stop being so paranoid.”

  “But it’s no
t Christmas yet!”

  “Close enough. Stop complaining. Hang on...”

  They were on the landing now. He leaned forward. Opening the door? Yes, she heard the lock turn. She felt Molly rush past her leg and into the apartment. Luke didn’t even live up here anymore. He’d officially, and permanently, moved into her...their...upstairs suite in the main house over a month ago. What could be so interesting about this space in the carriage house? He turned her to the right, his breath warm on her neck.

  “Ready?”

  “More than,” she assured him. But when he pulled the folded scarf from over her eyes, she was speechless.

  The apartment had been transformed. The kitchen was partially walled off, creating an actual entrance at the top of the stairs. Hanging on the wall was a sign of some sort, but it was concealed under one of Helen’s white linen tablecloths. There was a round table in the center of the room, surrounded by comfortable-looking chairs. Beyond the table, where the bed used to be—oh, the times they had on that bed—was a cherry desk with an antique bookkeepers lamp on the corner of it. Whoever sat in the sleek leather chair could easily turn to see the sweeping views of the Seneca Valley. In front of the desk were two tufted green leather chairs.

  The wall that once held the wooden pegs that had acted as Luke’s closet was now lined with built-in bookcases. A long, low sofa sat along the opposite wall.

  Her mouth had fallen open the instant Luke removed her blindfold, and she only managed to close it now because she had to speak. But words didn’t come easily.

  “What...? Why...? Who...?”

  Luke gave her a wide smile as he ticked off the answers on his fingers. “What? Your new office. Why? Because Helen would like her dining room back. Who? Me. With a little help here and there.”

  “I can’t even... When did you do this?”