Instead of answering, she positioned her free hand to push herself up. He moved to his knees and grabbed her elbow to help.
“Take it easy at first. You might be a little woozy.” He led her to the stool beside the butcher block in the center of the kitchen. “Sit here—the perfect viewing spot to view the master.”
~*~
Penn’s whole left side of her face ached. Eating was the last thing she wanted to do, but she didn’t want to disappoint John either.
He watched her with little boy excitement lighting his eyes.
“It’s a good thing we’re having omelets. I can make yours as soft as you like. You won’t even have to chew.” He gestured at the island covered with small mismatched bowls of diced tomatoes, onions, mushrooms, green peppers, and a jar of jalapeno peppers. “I’ve got just about anything you could ask for, but just cheese works fine.”
“Just cheese.”
He tapped a slender jar with a whisk. “These bacon bits are really tender.”
“Cheese.”
“One cheese omelet coming up.” He turned to a cabinet. “But first let me get you some ibuprofen.”
Something rattled at the front of the house, and the door swung open.
John swiveled from the sink with a glass in hand. “David, what’s up, buddy? Come meet the friend I told you about.”
She twisted her ring and squeezed the smooth stone into her palm. In the haze of searing pain, she’d forgotten that tonight’s guest list included someone else. She peaked at the door and did a double take. That would probably be the last time she’d forget him.
David stood at least six-feet-three or -four inches. By the size of his shoulders, he must have played football at some point in his life. He carried a gym bag but looked as though he’d just showered. His damp blond hair perfectly accompanied bright blue eyes. He made a presence in a room, for sure.
Both men reached her at the same time. One held a glass of water and two capsules; the other reached to shake her hand.
“Hey.” David’s eyes widened when he noticed the pack. “Wow. What happened?” He glanced at John and back at Penn. “Looks like you got the worst end of the deal. Are you OK? I’m David, by the way.” His hand dwarfed hers, but his grip felt firm, not bone-crushing.
“I’m Penn. I’m fine.” She popped the capsules in her mouth and pushed them down with a big gulp of water.
“Penn had a run-in with the linoleum.” John pointed to the floor covering curling at the threshold. “Remind me to get a throw rug tomorrow.” He grabbed three eggs out of the carton. “Are you hungry? Because I’m ready to create.”
~*~
The omelet was probably the most perfect scrambled egg dish she’d ever had. The edges, tinted with a touch of golden brown, cradled a fluffy, light center that pocketed three different cheeses cooked to just this side of bliss.
John was right. He was a master at making an omelet. He was right, too, about not having to chew.
Thank goodness. Her cheek throbbed with a new fierceness.
“So what do you think?” He leaned on his elbows and grinned. “Tell me how much you loved it.”
At his hopeful expression, her heart melted like the gooey cheeses in her omelet. “Delicious scrambled eggs.” She smiled, at least as far as her aching cheek would let her.
“I’ll say.” David reached for another bacon strip and crunched a bite. “Fantastic. This looks like the beginning of a great relationship. What else do you cook?”
“We’ve got cinnamon rolls for dessert thanks to Penn’s aunts.”
“Cool!” David wiped his mouth and craned his neck to see the rolls cooling on the counter.
“But omelets are the only menu choice right now. Maybe I can add a few other dishes before too long. What about you?” John retrieved the pan and set it between them.
“I can work a microwave.” David wiggled the small spatula under a plump roll and pulled it away from the others, dripping liquid cinnamon all the way to his plate.
“All right, then. I guess I better crack open that cookbook sooner rather than later.” John glanced at Penn. “You look like you’re ready to call it a day. You want a roll, and then I’ll drive you home?”
“You’re right.” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin from a local fast food restaurant. “I am ready to go home, but I drove, remember?”
“I remember, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go by yourself. I know you don’t want to ride my bike, so I’ll follow you.”
“John, honestly, you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” She pushed back from the kitchen table.
“I know I don’t, but I’m going to.” He separated a roll from the others and dropped it onto his plate. “I’ll just take one before we leave.”
Penn heard the determination in his voice and wanted to argue the point, but she didn’t have the energy. Nursing her cheek, trying to keep up with the banter between the two men, even eating had sapped her reserves. “I’ll pass on the rolls. You two can share all of them. Bring the pan to the next apple meeting.”
John, already chewing half a roll, nodded. He swallowed and pointed to the pan. “Twelve rolls, man. That means six apiece. I’ll have another one when I get back.” He tossed the rest of the sticky bread into his mouth and licked his fingers.
David wiggled his eyebrows and reached for another one.
~*~
Penn climbed out of the Volkswagen and turned to wave goodbye to John, but his attention centered on pushing down his kickstand. She closed her eyes and squeezed the keys in her palm. She needed a relaxing, hot bath, not more conversation with John who stood by his bike, unbuckling his helmet.
“John, thanks for seeing me home, but I’m good now. Goodnight.”
He hung the helmet on the handlebar. “Nice try. I’m walking you to the door. I want to get my side of the story in.” He grinned.
“You think I—”
The front door burst open.
“John, what a special surprise. Come in and have some lemonade.” Aunt Winnie stepped out onto the front porch followed by Aunt Jancie close behind.
“Hello, ladies. I’d love to, but I think Penn needs to call it a day.” He nodded his head in her direction.
Both aunts frowned and glanced at Penn.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Aunt Jancie adjusted her glasses high on the bridge of her nose.
“Nothing. I—”
“We had a little accident back at the house. It’s my fault, and I hope you’ll forgive me for not taking care of her better. She’s got a nasty bump on her cheek.” He pressed his lips together, hands shoved into his back pockets.
The aunts turned to her so they could see better. They sucked in a gasp and covered their mouths.
“That looks painful, Penny.”
With the aunts fawning over her and John acting like she was his responsibility, Penn felt five years old. “It wasn’t his fault. I didn’t look where I was stepping and tripped.”
“Tripped over old, curled up linoleum that I should have at least covered with a rug. My first re-do project is the kitchen which I plan to start on next week when I get back in town.”
“You’re going out of town again?” How many trips had he made since she met him?
“Yeah. I’ve got a—”
“Oh, my stars!” Winnie, usually a stickler for good manners, broke in so fast Penn blinked. “I’ve got the best idea. A paper bag floor!”
“What?” John and Penn answered together this time.
“A paper bag floor. It’s all the rage on the craft sites.” Jancie joined in with her sister. “You tear pieces of brown paper and glue them to your floor, then paint over it with polyurethane.”
“We’ve seen pictures.” Winnie stepped more closely to John. “The floors look gorgeous. I’m sure your kitchen would look great with one.”
John eyed both women but, to his credit, didn’t laugh at them. “A paper bag floor, huh?”
“Sounds interesting.” John shrugged. “I’d be up for it.”
“We can help.” Winnie’s eyes shined. “We know exactly what to do.”
The aunts folded their arms across their chests in unison.
Discussion over.
~*~
Penn grabbed the hot water handle with her toes and released more water into the bathtub. The liquid warmth swaddled her, pulling tension from her muscles as she envisioned herself bobbing down a babbling brook that flowed by a meadow full of daisies and bachelor buttons. Usually this relaxation technique combined with lavender bath salts worked to settle her nerves.
Tonight, however, her rebellious mind kept playing the last scene on the front porch. A paper bag floor? And the aunts volunteered to help create it? What about those ailments that kept them from Hartwood Acres on Sunday?
She had a pretty good idea that she’d be the one crawling on the floor amid the scraps of paper. Not a flattering image. I can’t help him do that floor. I don’t have a crafty bone in my body.
She closed her eyes as she remembered the wonky hot pads she’d tried to weave on her plastic loom, the burned edges of salt dough Christmas ornaments, the crooked Nativity barn fashioned with Popsicle sticks. She’d learned to leave the crafts to the aunts. Why wouldn’t they leave her out of the crafts?
Because they’re still plotting. Still trying to get John to be interested in me. She and John would be the only people in history wooed into a relationship by way of a paper bag floor.
Poor John.
She smiled, and her cheek protested. She touched it with the tips of her dripping fingers. The dull ache reminded her of the fiasco earlier in the evening. How could she be so clumsy? Why did she always look so foolish in front of John?
He’d been gentle with her throughout the whole ordeal, calm and in charge, too. His dark eyes brimmed with concern for her pain and regret over neglecting the potential hazard. He went above and beyond with the escort back to her house.
Penn’s initial impression of him couldn’t be more incorrect. Instead of being arrogant or too-cool-for-school, he was compassionate and patient.
He clearly enjoyed Jancie and Winnie, too. He’d accepted their invitation to dinner for next Friday night—contingent on his schedule, of course.
What was he doing this Friday night? How busy is his schedule? She tapped her forehead, water droplets sprinkling her eyelashes and cheeks. Quit thinking about his schedule, Penn. Not your business.
Maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about redoing a floor either. Maybe he’d find a sale on linoleum he couldn’t pass up. Maybe her aunts would forget about the floor when they remembered her craft disasters.
Not.
They’d never forget the dinner. They’d already dragged out their go-to recipe books and created a list of several grocery items before she’d had a chance to draw her bath. The giggles from the kitchen table drifted up the stairs and teased her.
Shaking her head, she stretched her toes to the handle again and welcomed fresh hot water to her bath. She forced herself to focus on relaxing and refused to entertain the question that knocked on her brain, demanding attention—what new fiascos awaited her at the dinner party?
6
Penn yawned and her cheek pinched with a reminder of John’s kitchen counter top. She sipped her cappuccino and waited for the rest of the Apple committee to appear. An early morning meeting was a good idea. Catch people before they got involved at work, before their minds filled with other responsibilities. Plus, she could get it behind her and focus on studying for her exam.
Jacob Duran cleaned his glasses with a blue and white handkerchief. Clara pored over papers in several folders. A few more people and the meeting could start.
The front door of the Town Hall dinged, and John held the door for Missy Parker. She looked gorgeous in white denim shorts and a navy polka dotted blouse. A messy blonde bun allowed several wisps to float around her face, upturned to John.
A burning sensation curled in Penn’s stomach. It spread and squeezed her heart when Missy’s laugh tinkled and produced a smile from John. Jealous? That thought caught her attention.
Could she really be jealous? She’d tried so hard not to get caught up in the aunts’ romantic talk. She thought she was immune, but now here she was wishing she were the one walking in with John.
His attention left Missy and settled on Penn. He smiled a hello and moved to the seat beside her although Missy had chosen a seat across the table.
“How do you feel today?”
Again with the concern in those dark brown eyes.
“Fine. Thanks.” She hoped he didn’t see the frantic blood vessel tapping on the side of her neck. She twisted her ring and held the lapis against her palm.
He craned his neck to inspect her cheek. Close enough for her to smell his woodsy aftershave.
“It still looks pink. Hasn’t turned purple yet. Looks like the ice kept the swelling down.” He pulled his gaze back to hers. “Still sore, I guess.” Sympathy furrowed his brow.
“Yeah, but it’s fine. I’ll live.”
He grinned. “Good.”
“Hello, everyone. Thanks for getting here bright and early this morning.” Clara called the meeting to order. “Linda is still struggling with her broken leg, but she assures me the entertainment committee is in capable hands.” She arched a look at Penn.
Penn made a mental note to thank Clara for her encouraging smirk.
The front door chimed and Al Martin yawned his way to the seat opposite John. “Sorry, guys. Just finishing the graveyard shift.” He rubbed his temple. “Been up all night trying to catch whoever is stealing the heavy equipment over near Valencia.”
Jacob’s eyes lit up. “I heard about that. Talk is that the stuff is buried somewhere.”
“Buried? Heavy equipment?” John frowned. “But why? And how?”
Jacob tapped the table with his pen. “Revenge is what I heard.”
“I heard that, too. If it’s true, we’ll find out. Bank on it.” Al pressed his fingertips into his closed eyes. “Can’t keep something that wild secret for long.”
“Well, we’re glad you could get here, Al.” Clara paper clipped a note card to a folder. “Let’s keep this short so you can get on home to bed.” She handed the folder to Penn. “Linda wanted me to give you this file. Her notes from last year. Now, we need an update on our budget. Penn, that’s you. “
~*~
John held his helmet in one hand, the door with the other. Missy gestured for Penn to go ahead of her. Penn received the message she sent and walked through, leaving Missy to walk with John.
He didn’t pick up the message, however. “Good to see you, Missy. Bye. Hey, Penn. Wait up.”
A seed of joy split open in Penn’s heart. She turned to see him limp to catch up with her. A grin escaped from teeth that had clamped down on her bottom lip.
“I’ve got the cinnamon roll pan in my saddle bag.” He stopped at his bike to unhook the silver buckles.
Her shoulders slumped. He didn’t want to see her. He wanted to return Winnie’s pan. The joy evaporated, leaving an emptiness in the region of her heart.
He joined her by the car and offered the pan. “So I guess we’re still on for Saturday night?”
She nodded. “They’ve already planned the menu, made the shopping list. They’re buying groceries tomorrow.” She hesitated. “They can’t wait.”
“Me, either.” He rubbed his stomach. “They won’t let me bring dessert or anything, but would it be OK if I brought flowers?”
“You don’t have to bring anything, but flowers would be great. They love anything floral.” She reached for the door, but he grabbed the handle first.
The door swung open. Easy as pie. No sticky door. No temperamental Volkswagen.
Traitor.
She sat in the driver’s seat, dumping her folders and the pan in th
e passenger’s side.
“Sweet. Sounds like a plan.” He shut the door and waved.
From her rearview mirror, she watched him climb onto his bike and slip the helmet over his head.
Sounds like a sweet plan.
~*~
“So let me get this straight. You financed your trip across America by selling socks at flea markets. Is that right?” John tilted his head and leaned back in his chair.
“No, no, no.” Aunt Winnie pushed her plate away from her. “The trip was paid for lock, stock, and barrel before we left. We just brought the socks along for running around money, just-in-casey money.”
“Justin Casey? I think I went to school with him.” He grinned at Penn, and her breath caught in her throat.
The aunts howled. “Oh, John. You’re a hoot.” Aunt Jancie slapped the table.
It was a silly joke, but she laughed, too, and it felt good. The whole dinner had been fun, hearing John’s stories, sharing theirs.
“OK. So I guess that sounds like a pretty good idea.”
“Not really.” Penn couldn’t resist prodding the rest of the story.
Jancie clucked her tongue. “We don’t have a happy ending. About the socks, anyway.” She peered at Winnie. “Where were we, sister? Somewhere west of Chicago?”
Winnie nodded. “I think so. Some little Illinois town. A charming place to begin with.” She sighed. “We’d just set up shop and, I think, sold a couple of pairs, when the local deputy stopped by our booth and asked for our permit.”
John leaned forward, cupping his chin in his hand. “That was a problem?”
“We didn’t have a permit.” Remorse crept into Winnie’s voice.
Penn remembered how rattled the aunts were at their first run-in with law enforcement.
“Did anybody tell us we had to have a permit?” Jancie raised her hands, palms turned toward the ceiling.
“No.”
“Did we need one in Ohio?”
“No. Had not one problem in the Buckeye State.”
Mars with Venus Rising Page 5
