She tried not to let her sadness show on her face as she moved away from him. “I understand, Father. We’ll stay home. I’m sure Matilda has something in the icebox that I can make.”
“Nonsense. There’s no reason why you and Peter can’t go out and celebrate.”
She stared at her father, trying not to let her excited heart get the best of her. “Me… and Peter? By ourselves?”
“Of course. You were alone earlier today, and you both came back alive, so I think you’ll be fine tonight.”
She twisted her hands nervously. Earlier today was different. They were outside where everyone could see them. Tonight, however, they’d be riding in the buggy at night, both going and coming from the restaurant, and bumping against each other as they did before. In the dark, anything was possible, and her fiercely beating heart let her know that tonight’s event wouldn’t be fun and games as it had been earlier. Tonight would be more serious. The mood was already set, and she worried about what would happen… what she wanted to happen.
She licked her dry lips. “Yes, I think Peter and I will be fine tonight.”
“Good.” He patted her on the shoulder and walked past her toward his room.
“Father? Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”
“No. I know how to find something if I get hungry.” He started the climb up the stairs. “Give Peter my apologies.”
“I shall.”
“Enjoy the evening, and don’t worry about hurrying home. Take as much time as you need.”
“All right. I hope you get some rest.”
After her father had turned the corner, she released a heavy breath. If her nerves weren’t already playing with her heart and mind right now, the wait for Peter to come get her would drive her insane. Thankfully, moments later, she heard another buggy pulling up to the house. This one stopped in front.
She placed a shaky hand on her chest. Peter was here, and soon it would just be the two of them – alone.
Watching the front porch was just as nerve-wracking as waiting, but soon the shadow of a man walked up and knocked on the door. She tried to keep her movements steady and she moved to let him in, but her steps were much too hurried, and she nearly ripped the door off the hinge just opening it.
Peter stood, holding a bouquet of red roses – the same type of flower they’d used for the picture on the bench. Her heart tripped and she smiled. “Peter.”
His gaze wandered over her, and his smile widened. “These lovely flowers are for you.” He held out the bouquet. “But they hold no comparison to your beauty.”
Her cheeks warmed from his compliment. “Oh, Peter. You are too kind.” She took the flowers and sniffed. She’d always loved the fragrance of flowers, but lately, she had been craving a different scent. His.
“Why don’t you come inside while I put these flowers in a vase.”
“I’ll help you.”
He moved with her as they went into the kitchen. The vases were easy to find, only because Matilda kept them all in one place. Annette drew some water from the pump and poured it in the vase before placing the flowers inside.
“Are you and your father ready to go?” he asked.
“Father isn’t going. He’d actually forgotten about it, but he said I should still go with you.” She laughed uncomfortably. “I mean, we should celebrate the newspaper’s success, right?”
“Of course, we should.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He wore his darker gray suit, which she loved, as well. He was certainly a handsome man. But it was the way his hazel eyes moved over her in a leisurely exploration that had her heart beating frantically. Why would he look at her that way? It didn’t matter. She liked it, and she wanted more of it.
“Are you ready to go now?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Yes.”
Without being asked, she stepped beside him and linked her arm with his, similar to the way she had done with her father, but with Peter, her breathing had turned ragged. All she wanted to do was stare at his handsome profile. This evening would be difficult, to be sure. And maybe, just maybe, it would give her more experience to write about.
SEVEN
Peter was as nervous as a cat in a room full of snarling dogs. He wanted to bring the fun back that he and Annette had shared this afternoon. Yet, a different mood had crept between them during dinner. Suddenly, he’d become tongue-tied. His mind refused to find other topics of conversation besides the newspaper and the article. He couldn’t stop studying her pretty face or laughing at her humor. But Heaven help him, he wished he could stop staring at her lips. Her heart-shaped mouth was adorable, and he wanted to kiss her. It was rather surprising that the urgency to taste her sweet lips would override his thoughts.
Earlier in the meal, she’d excused herself to drop in the kitchen to give a compliment to the chef. Nellie was cooking tonight, and Peter’s taste buds could tell the difference between her cooking and the man who cooked on Nellie’s days off. It wasn’t long before Annette returned, but then just as they finished their meal, she had to leave the table and go back to the kitchen to thank Nellie again.
It dawned on him that Annette was stalling their departure from the restaurant for some reason. Sadly, it also made him more nervous about their ride home… alone in the open buggy. He wished now that he had brought his covered buggy, but he’d thought Malcolm was coming with them.
Annette returned to the table and sat. Her eyes were aglow with happiness, which was confusing since she had just been in talking to Nellie. “Annette? May I ask why you look so elated?”
She glanced around them at the other tables before leaning toward him. Since they didn’t sit directly across from each other, it was easier for him to lean in and inhale her sweet fragrance.
“I just realized,” she whispered, “that Nellie is the one who wrote that letter to the newspaper.”
He arched an eyebrow. “She’s Shy Nellie?”
Annette nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“When I went to talk to her the first time, she seemed shy, but I didn’t receive a distinct impression that she was the one. However, just now, we had a little more time to talk, and she wanted me to thank my father for hiring the Lovelorn.” Annette’s smile widened. “Why else would she say that if she wasn’t the one who had written the letter?”
“Do you think she’s going to come out of her shell and find a beau?”
“I don’t know for certain, but at least I can keep an eye on her to see if she does.”
“Annette,” he said in a low voice as he took her hand in his, “you really need to stop trying to figure out who these people are. They didn’t use their real names for a reason.”
She straightened but didn’t pull her hand away. “Well, Nellie used her name.”
“True, so I’ll let this one slide, but those others… you really should give them their privacy.”
She shrugged. “I should, but it wouldn’t be as much fun.”
He chuckled. “Probably not, but put yourself in their shoes. Would you want someone from the newspaper watching you closely to see if you had written a letter?”
“No.” She frowned.
“Then they don’t want you to know, either.”
“You really know how to ruin my fun.” She pulled her hand away and took another drink of her water.
“Nah,” he winked, “we can still have a different kind of fun.”
She laughed. “Like we did this afternoon?”
“Of course.”
“What have you planned for tomorrow? Throwing me in the pond with the ducks?”
He laughed loudly, gaining a few heads turning his way. He quickly lowered his voice. “Why didn’t I think of doing that earlier?”
“Oh, see if I go to the park with you again.”
“I promise you, Annette,” he took her hand again, “that if I ever throw you in the pond, I’ll gladly join you for some splashing fun.”
She relax
ed back in her chair and shook her head. “Peter? Who are you really?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve known you for six years and yet, this is the first time I’ve ever seen you have fun. It sure makes me curious as to why.”
“Perhaps it’s the company I’m keeping lately.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But I could say the same about you.”
“Considering you have only seen me at work or in the evenings during dinner, and you’ve been deep into conversation with my father, it’s no wonder you don’t know anything about me.”
“I’d actually like to know you better if you don’t mind.” He relaxed his smile. “If the real you is who I saw at the park, then I know I’ve been missing out.”
“I’ll admit,” her gaze dropped to her hand as she moved the fork around on the half-eaten food on her plate, “that today at the park was something I haven’t done in a long time.”
“And what’s that?”
She lifted her gaze to him. “Laugh and tease.”
His heart melted. “In other words, you’ve been wrapped up in the newspaper and in your writing and not had room for any fun, just like me.”
She nodded. “You’re correct. I’ve also been wrapped up in trying to find a man who’ll love me instead of my father’s money.” She sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, that has taken much of my time.”
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed her fingers gently. “If only those men could have seen what I did this afternoon, they would have thought differently about you.”
Her stare stayed on him as color grew in her cheeks. Usually, when she blushed, she looked away. He was happy to see that she didn’t this time.
“Peter, you have been very charming lately, and I question your attitude change.”
“Perhaps I have also realized what I’ve been missing.”
The red in her face darkened, and this time she dropped her gaze back to her plate. He knew it was now time to pay the bill and take her home… or take her somewhere they could be alone.
He looked up and motioned to the waiter. When the young man hurried over, Peter handed him some money and thanked him for such good service. Once the waiter left, Peter stood and took her hand to help her rise up beside him. He hooked her hand over his elbow and escorted her outside to the buggy.
Nothing was said as he helped her inside, but touching her this way caused havoc in his brain, and definitely in his body. Warmth flowed faster through him, causing his heart to beat out of control. He’d said things to Annette tonight that he couldn’t take back. Yet, he didn’t want to take them back. They were all true. However, he now needed to act upon it. He couldn’t say what he had and not try to kiss her – or at the very least, hold her.
As he headed toward her house, he didn’t try to hurry the horse. His mind spun with ideas of how he could get her alone where nobody could see them, but he couldn’t think of anything. When they reached her house, he struggled to end the evening. He slowly climbed out of the buggy and walked around to her side to help her out. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and as he grasped her around the waist to lift her down, he purposely let her body bump against his. Their gazes locked, and his heart jumped to his throat. This was the position he wanted them in, but they were still out in the open where anyone riding by could see.
Her throat jumped in what appeared to be a hard swallow. “Peter, I had a wonderful evening. Thank you for celebrating with me.”
“I wouldn’t have passed up this moment for the world.”
She was the one to step away from him, but she slowly moved toward the house. He walked beside her. Their arms bumped together, and it took all of his willpower not to reach down and entwine her fingers with his.
When they finally reached the front door, his heart was breaking. Why couldn’t he figure out a way to stay with her longer? Kissing her on the front porch wasn’t a good idea, either.
She opened the door and looked at him. “Would you like to come inside?”
His heart skipped excitedly. Why was she asking him this? And yet, why was he foolish enough to ask that question? If he was smart, he’d go inside and ask questions later. “Yes, I would.”
“I wonder if my father is still awake,” she said, moving into the house.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “What time does he usually retire for the night?”
“It’s never the same time every night. Usually, he stays in his study long after I’ve gone to bed.”
“Did you want to go upstairs and see if he’s awake?”
“I probably should. He might want to talk to you.”
He nodded, praying that Malcolm had already gone to sleep. “All right. I’ll wait down here.”
As she hurried up the stairs, he moved into the sitting room. He’d always loved their house and the way it was decorated. He’d never gotten to know Malcolm’s wife very well, but she had the best taste in furniture and décor.
Peter sat on the loveseat deeper into the room. This piece of furniture was near a window, and he was sure it was the best place to sit and relax during summer evenings while watching the sunset. Unfortunately, he’d missed that opportunity tonight. Perhaps he and Annette could do this a different night.
“That’s strange.”
Her voice startled him, and he looked toward her as she walked to the loveseat. “What is strange?” He stood, as any gentleman would when a lady entered the room.
“Father isn’t in his room, and yet, he said his feet and back were aching this evening, which was why he didn’t go to dinner with us.”
“Do you think he forgot something back at the office?”
“Possibly.” She stopped in front of him. “Father has been very forgetful these past few months. I worry about him.”
When she sat, he lowered to the loveseat right beside her. It appeared that with Malcolm out of the house, Peter had gotten his wish, after all. Since he figured he knew where Malcolm had taken off to, Peter was relieved that he and Annette were now alone. He would certainly turn on the charm.
EIGHT
Annette’s palms were moist, and she felt as if Peter would be able to hear her chest rattle from the drumbeat inside of her known as her pulse. During the time men were courting her, a few beaus had kissed her on the mouth. It made her happy at the time, even if it hadn’t left a lasting effect. But she had a feeling that if Peter kissed her, she’d remember it for the rest of her life. He was definitely older than the other men, and he was probably more experienced, as well.
“Has my father been forgetful at work that you’ve seen?” she asked, keeping the conversation moving, even though she wanted to do something else.
“I haven’t noticed, but I’ll keep an eye on him from now on.” Peter turned his upper body toward her as he brushed his fingers along her clasped hands resting on her lap.
His touch made her melt, as did his soothing words. “Thank you. I’ve always thought my father was fortunate to have a friend like you.”
“And what about you?” He lifted his hand and his fingers lightly caressed her cheek. “Do you think you’re fortunate for having a friend like me?”
She smiled. “Considering, I’ve never thought of you as a friend until lately… I suppose I feel lucky.”
“I’m glad.”
“I’ve never had a male friend.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I could try to act like your women friends, but I don’t sip tea, and I don’t like to spend my time sewing samplers. In fact, I don’t much like to cook, either, so don’t sign me up for refreshments for a barn-raising.”
She laughed and bumped her shoulder against him. That’s all it took for his arms to wrap around her loosely. Her heartbeat accelerated, and his sultry cologne was making her head spin… or was being this close to him making her swoon? It really didn’t matter, as long as she didn’t pass out.
“Then what qualities do you have for being a woman’s friend?”
“I’m very skilled at c
omforting women.”
“Hmm… You don’t say.” She placed her hand on his chest and felt his erratic heartbeat. At least she wasn’t the only one being affected right now. “What else can you do?”
“I can assure you that being your male friend, I’ll be able to fix your buggy if it breaks, whereas your women friends wouldn’t be able to handle that task.”
“I believe you’re right about that.”
“Being your friend, I’ll be able to scare all the bad men away from you.”
“Are you saying I won’t be able to tell if a man is bad or not?”
“Some men are very deceiving.”
She nodded. “I know that well since several of them have courted me.”
“Another thing I could do as your friend that will be different from your women friends is… I can teach you things.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Teach me things about what?”
“About what men like and what we don’t like.”
Her breathing was ragged, but she was so wrapped up in the heated conversation and his mesmerizing eyes that she didn’t care. “And what is that?”
“Men like curious women,” his fingers trailed from her cheek to her mouth as he softly ran the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip, “especially when it comes to… kissing.”
“Tell me more,” she said in a lower voice.
“When a man kisses a woman who is stiff and uncooperative, that lets him know how she’ll act during their marriage.”
“That’s understandable, but what if she is just really nervous and that’s why she’s uncooperative?”
“It doesn’t matter. If she enjoys the kiss, she’ll respond. If she doesn’t, then the man might as well plan the rest of his life being married to a cold fish.”
She chuckled lightly. “That’s not a good thing.”
“No. It’s the kiss of death.”
“So, tell me, what don’t you like…” she swallowed hard, “about me, Peter?”
He lowered his head as he stared at her mouth. “I have not found anything, yet, except—”
Dear Lovelorn Page 5
