by Deb Kastner
Phoebe smiled and visibly relaxed, and impish gleam appearing in the hazel depths of her eyes. His breath caught. He could get lost in that gaze.
“It would serve them right,” she whispered. “I’m all in. What did you have in mind?”
Chance decided to show her rather than tell her. He drew her left hand to his lips, gently kissing first the back, and then the palm. He wasn’t sure if the shiver he felt came from him or from Phoebe.
“Darling,” he said, his voice loud and clear. “At last, we can be alone together. I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks now.”
Which was not a total lie. In fact, it was the stone-cold truth, even if he hadn’t realized it until he’d said the words aloud.
Phoebe snatched her hands back, clasping them in her lap. She lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward.
“That’s a little bit of an overkill, don’t you think?” she whispered, her face crinkling adorably.
Chance shrugged. “I’m just trying to give them their money’s worth,” he said, matching her low tone.
“I didn’t know my feelings were so obvious,” Phoebe said in a raised voice. “How do you think Lucy and Jo knew what was happening?”
Stunned at her words, Chance swallowed hard. Phoebe was playing along with the game he’d staged, but the question remained—how had his family figured out he was falling for Phoebe? He hadn’t even really known himself until just now.
“They must have seen me mooning about like a lovesick calf,” he answered.
Phoebe’s wide-eyed gaze snapped to his. Now he really had gone over the edge. Mooning like a lovesick calf? Nobody actually talked that way in real life, least of all him.
“Perhaps they know us better than we know ourselves,” Phoebe commented thoughtfully, reaching for a covered dish. “Green bean casserole?”
Chance nodded absently and held out his plate to her. “Maybe they do,” he agreed.
And maybe they did.
It was quiet for a few minutes as Phoebe dished out the main course of honey-baked spiral ham, mashed potatoes and broccoli to go along with the green bean casserole. The food looked and smelled delicious. Aunt Jo must have slaved all day to cook such a meal.
He’d have to remember to thank her—after he’d reamed her out for being a nosy old busybody. Which, of course, she was. Oddly, though, Chance didn’t seem to care. At least right now, he didn’t.
He’d just taken his first bite of ham when he heard Aunt Jo’s truck engine roar to life and putter off down the road.
“Finally,” he said with a sigh that was half relief and half appreciation for the mouthwatering ham he’d just swallowed. “I was starting to wonder if they would ever leave.”
Phoebe put a hand over her heart. “I’ve never been so nervous in my life.”
Chance’s brow rose. “Nervous because of them watching us, or nervous because you have to share this dinner with a gruff old man?”
“You’re not old,” Phoebe corrected absently.
Chance laughed. “No, just gruff. Is that what you are saying?”
“No,” Phoebe responded, sounding appalled. “You’re twisting my words. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re—”
“I’m just teasing,” he cut in. “Besides, I’m the first to admit I haven’t made it easy for you to spend time with me. I’m surprised you didn’t cut and run that first day.”
“I do not back down from challenges,” she protested.
Chance laughed again. “So I’ve noticed.”
She dropped her gaze and focused on cutting a dainty little bite of ham. Chance picked up his own fork, but he didn’t immediately turn his attention to his food, as good as that was.
This date, he realized, altered the whole playing field, at least for him. Like rededicating his life to the Lord and getting behind the wheel of a car, admitting he had feelings for Phoebe was a monumental step forward, one with tremendous consequences.
He wanted to explore this relationship, now that he’d acknowledged it, but he was running out of time. Phoebe would be leaving Serendipity in—what? One week? Two?
Was a relationship even possible?
He didn’t know the answer to that question, only that he had to try to make it work.
“What?” Phoebe asked when she noticed him staring at her. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Sure,” he said, jabbing his fork into the green beans. “I was just thinking—you know my life story, but I hardly know anything about you, comparatively.”
“There’s not much to tell,” she protested; but in the end, with Chance plying her with questions, he learned a great deal.
She was born in New York City, an only child. Her parents owned a small but exclusive restaurant where Phoebe had first acquired her love of the culinary arts. He already knew she had gone abroad at least one time during her studies, but now she regaled him with stories of the places she’d been and the people she’d met.
Before they knew it, they’d finished dinner and had enjoyed ample slices of Phoebe’s own peach pie for dessert. Phoebe insisted on cleaning up before they left, although Chance privately thought Lucy and Aunt Jo should be responsible for the mess they’d created.
It wasn’t until Chance and Phoebe had driven home and he’d parked the SUV in front of the house that he realized he wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end. There was still so much he wanted to say, thoughts he didn’t yet know how to form into words.
Phoebe was already exiting the car, so Chance rushed around to meet her. As he did, he saw the clear silhouette of a human shadow moving behind the curtain of the front room.
The irony wasn’t lost on him. That was exactly where he’d stood when he’d spied on Lucy, ready to spring into action if Michael had so much as thought about crossing the lines Chance had set up in his mind.
Of course, nothing had happened.
And now Lucy was watching him—and nothing of interest was happening here, either.
Or at least, not yet, it wasn’t.
It wouldn’t be fair to Lucy and Aunt Jo to deprive them of a satisfying conclusion to their evening’s work, now would it? He grinned mischievously.
Phoebe was walking toward the front door, with Chance a second or two behind her. One step, two, and he was close enough to touch her.
Before giving himself the opportunity to talk himself out of it, he reached for her elbow and spun her around, right into his arms.
Her hazel-eyed gaze was wide with surprise as he brought his lips down squarely over hers. Her shock lasted only a moment before she relaxed and melted into him. Tenderly, he slanted his head and deepened the kiss, his mind and heart spinning out of control.
Now this was a satisfying conclusion to the evening. He hoped Lucy appreciated his sacrifice.
No, he didn’t. He didn’t care if the entire population of Serendipity was staring out the window at them. All that mattered was the woman in his arms and in his heart.
If only it would last.
Chapter Fourteen
STATUS UPDATE: PHOEBE YATES: Everything has changed. If I thought I knew anything at all, I was wrong. I really don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve never been so confused in my life. Pray for me.
JOSEPHINE HAWKINS MURPHY: Don’t worry, dear. God will provide the answers you seek.
Chance’s kiss changed everything.
Phoebe told herself that she could handle it, that she was in complete control of the situation and her own emotions, but of course she wasn’t.
God was. And she hadn’t exactly been seeking His wisdom in the matter. Now she was praying extra hard for guidance but it seemed too little, too late.
It had been easier for her when she believed her feelings were all one-sided, that ultimately they didn’t amount to anything because Chance’s heart was unavailable.
And then he’d kissed her and her whole world turned to chaos in an instant.
What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t just return to New Yo
rk as if she’d never met Chance Hawkins and his wonderful family.
But she couldn’t stay here in Serendipity.
Could she?
She would stay, if Chance asked her to. The epiphany was overwhelming. What would it be like to stay here and make her home in Serendipity? One thing was for certain—she’d never regret staying. Not if it meant a life with Chance.
She’d never been more confused in her life. Her heart was telling her to stay. Her head was only marginally more sensible, reminding her that she had an unprecedented career move waiting for her in New York. She’d be crazy to turn it down.
But she would. For Chance.
And yet here it was, Saturday, and she and Chance hadn’t spoken of Wednesday evening at all. Not one word. She hadn’t known how to broach the subject, and of course Chance didn’t offer anything. She’d known he wouldn’t. It wasn’t his way.
She did catch him watching her from time to time. She would look up, their gazes would lock, and he’d smile at her—that rugged, masculine, and thoroughly charming grin of his that took her breath away. And he did little things, casual things, like take her hand when they were walking.
He just didn’t talk about it.
Phoebe sighed and turned back to the cooler she was packing. Once again, the café was closed for the day in order for them to attend a community event. It was another wonderful opportunity for her to gain insight in to and experience in small-town living.
The annual Fourth of July picnic was evidently a big deal in Serendipity. This time it wasn’t a potluck. Every family brought their own meal. According to Aunt Jo, the event was better attended even than a barn-raising. Everyone met at the town park to share in fellowship and fireworks.
The town couldn’t afford a fancy fireworks show, of course—nothing remotely resembling New York City’s. From what Phoebe had been told, Serendipity fireworks were more of the sparkler and fountain variety.
Though they weren’t hauling as much food this time around, it was hard not to compare this day to the one not so long ago, the day of the barn-raising. She was comfortable moving about the house now, getting what she needed for the picnic. She lived here, in a way she’d never done in her solitary New York apartment.
An even bigger blessing was her newfound relationship with Lucy. The girl had gone from openly resenting Phoebe’s presence in their family to setting her up on a date with her dad.
“You look lost in thought,” Chance said, coming up behind her and wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other around her waist. He was so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck, inhale the rugged, musky aftershave he always wore.
“Just thinking about today,” she said, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment.
It was the first time Chance had held her in his arms since Wednesday night, and she was loath to pull away, but she quickly jolted forward and out of his reach when Aunt Jo bustled into the kitchen with Lucy hot on her heels.
The gleam of approval in Aunt Jo’s eyes was hard to miss, and it made Phoebe uncomfortable. Matchmaking aside, expressing a romantic interest in Phoebe was a huge life change for Chance. Aunt Jo had to know it wouldn’t be easy.
“Everybody ready?” the older woman asked.
“Good to go,” Chance answered, reaching for the packed cooler. “Food—check. Family—check. Fireworks—check.”
Phoebe hadn’t seen any fireworks. Apparently Chance had taken care of that detail.
“And for Lucy,” Phoebe teased, winking at the teen, “her cell phone and MP3 player.”
“Although why she thinks she needs to bring her cell phone is beyond me. Every single one of her friends will be right there with her in the park.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Who declared this National Pick on Lucy Day? I thought it was the Fourth of July.”
Everyone laughed, and Phoebe marveled at how relaxed and carefree the girl appeared to be. It was amazing how great of a difference a few weeks could make.
But then again, her whole life had changed in these few short weeks.
“I call shotgun,” Lucy announced.
“And I’m driving,” Aunt Jo said firmly.
Which left Chance and Phoebe together in the backseat of the SUV. She thought Chance might protest. His legs were longer and he was a good deal taller than the rest of them. The front seat would have been much more comfortable for him, and he may even have wanted to drive. But he just smiled and slid into the backseat.
Not only that, as soon as they were on their way, he nonchalantly reached across the seat for Phoebe’s hand, threading his fingers through hers. She immediately looked over at him, wondering what he was thinking, his making what she thought was a bold move, given that they were in the car with his family; but he was looking out the window, his face expressionless, except for the way the corners of his lips turned up, just a little.
As they pulled up at the park, Phoebe could see what Aunt Jo had meant. The place was teeming with people, so much so that she wondered if some folks had come in from neighboring towns. Chance grabbed the cooler and led the way to an empty spot on the grass, where Aunt Jo and Phoebe spread out a thick red blanket and Lucy set up lawn chairs for each of them.
Immediately, several young women came to talk to Phoebe—the same ones, in fact, whom she and Chance had been bantering about at the barn-raising. The Little Chicks, as Chance had called them.
Phoebe now knew each of them by name. In fact, she realized as she looked around, she knew most of these people by name. She’d seen them in church or met them at Cup O’ Jo. They were her neighbors.
Serendipity was so completely different than the big city. She loved this little town, with all its friendly people. She loved working at Cup O’ Jo, making simple pastries she could then personally watch her neighbors enjoy. She loved the rustic little church where they still sang the old, classic hymns—like “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” and “Be Thou My Vision.”
She loved being included in the community, in the Hawkins family.
But most of all, she loved Chance.
She glanced over at him. He’d stretched himself out on one side of the blanket, bracing himself on one elbow and munching on a chicken drumstick while he watched the festivities going on around him.
He didn’t join in, exactly, though several neighbors came to speak with him. But Phoebe wasn’t worried. Not anymore. That was just Chance’s way—quiet, reserved, allowing people to come to him instead of actively seeking others.
And that was okay. It was one of many of the quirks she loved about him, that made him different from the other people around him.
As soon as Phoebe could tear herself away from the Little Chicks without appearing rude, she went back to join Chance. Popping the top on a soda, she sank into one of the lawn chairs Lucy had set up earlier. She and Chance were alone—well, as alone as two people could be in a crowded park. Lucy was—much to Chance’s chagrin—off somewhere with Michael and Aunt Jo was off visiting with her friends.
“This is absolutely perfect,” she said, gesturing toward a group of elementary-school age children playing tag across the park, weaving in and out of the spots where families had set up their picnics. “There’s nothing comparable in New York.”
“You don’t miss the skyscrapers and the busy sidewalks?” he asked.
Phoebe shook her head. “No, not really,” she confessed. “I never was one for crowds.”
“I thought you would be anxious to get back,” he said, his obsidian-black gaze searching hers as their gazes locked and held.
She knew he was waiting for her to say something, but what? That she didn’t want to leave Serendipity? That she loved him and wanted to stay here forever?
“The owner of Monahan’s is expecting me back in New York next week.”
She didn’t know why she said that. It was an obligation she intended to fulfill, but she knew how it sounded—like there was no doubt in her mind that she was leaving. And she supposed th
at was true.
Unless he asked her to stay.
And that, she realized belatedly, was the real truth. She’d said what she said in the vain hope that he would express his love for her and ask her to stay.
Only he didn’t.
His lips twisted for a moment and he sat up, adjusting the bandana around his neck before speaking.
“Yeah, I remember you saying that.”
Sweeping in a breath and holding it until it burned in her lungs, she waited for more. It never came. Chance finished off his drumstick with relish and then reached for another one.
“Fireworks start at dusk,” he commented, abruptly changing the subject. His face was expressionless and Phoebe couldn’t discern any change in his tone of voice.
Maybe she had it all wrong. Maybe their kiss wasn’t as meaningful to him as it had been to her. After all, the date had been forced on him and he had made the best of it. But maybe that was all it was—making the best of it.
Add to that the fact that they’d both known Lucy had been stealing a look out the front window when they’d returned home that night—and probably Aunt Jo, as well.
So what was the kiss, then? A show for the sake of the Peeping Toms?
Melancholy descended over her like a big black cloud. She gulped down her soda, relishing the sting of the carbonation as she tried to force down the emotion which started in her belly and swelled up her chest and into her throat.
It didn’t work. She couldn’t breathe.
“I forgot something in the car,” she muttered, stumbling over her words. She had to get out of here or she was going to suffocate. She stood so abruptly she almost knocked down the lawn chair she’d been sitting on.
“What did you forget?” Chance asked, rolling to his knees. “I’ll get it for you.”
“No, no,” she responded hastily, gesturing for him to remain seated. “You stay here and enjoy your chicken. I’ll only be a moment.”
Which was an unfortunate truth, Phoebe thought as she walked back toward the SUV. If she had her way, she would get in the car and drive away right now. It was an immature thing to even think of doing, and impossible, at that, since her car was still parked at the Hawkinses’.
