She spread her hands over the table. “The Pines is one of my favorite restaurants. I love it. Thanks for doing all this.”
“Glad you like it. So you go a lot?” John speared another shrimp from the mixed seafood grill.
She laughed. “Hardly ever.”
“But it’s your favorite?”
“We’d go once a year when I was a little girl. Pines Tavern and the Northern Tier Library over in Gibsonia used to team up together and host a Christmas at the Pines children’s breakfast the first Saturday in December. Tickets were a premium, not because of the cost but because of the limited number of seats. Every second Saturday in November, the aunts and I would wake up at what I thought must be the crack of dawn, drive over, stand in line, and buy our tickets.”
A breeze threatened the candle.
John cupped his hand around the rim and saved the flame. “Must have been a special breakfast to go to all that trouble.”
“Truly magical. The food was usually kid-friendly—waffles, scrambled eggs, maybe a fruit cup—but my favorite part was the entertainer. For a few years a professional storyteller told great stories.” Leaning on her elbows, she clasped her hands. “One year a children’s librarian read stories and then played her guitar while we sang Christmas carols. The second year we went, I won a door prize, a book I’d wanted for Christmas.”
“Cool. Good for you.” He rested his chin on his hand, his fork dangling loose in his fingers.
“I was thrilled.” She pushed aside her plate. “The whole place was decorated like some beautiful Christmas village with two or three gorgeous trees packed with ornaments—for sale, of course. The aunts always bought one for me, as a surprise, and I opened it on Christmas Eve.”
The silhouettes of the trees along the back of the field caught her attention. “Even the pictures hanging on the walls depicted Christmas scenes, cross stitched by the owner’s wife or mother. I can’t remember which.” She scanned the open field, memories of the special times warming her. “It was such a beautiful place.”
“Great memories.”
She swung her focus to him. “The best. I hadn’t thought of those breakfasts in a long time. Thanks for reminding me.”
He held her gaze until the intensity tripped her heart.
Penn glanced away.
“More people are arriving.”
John dragged a box closer to her plate. “It’s getting darker. We’d better eat up.”
She arched backwards. “I can’t eat another bite. I can’t believe all this food—lobster bisque, two different salads, the seafood plate, and the steak dinner, not to mention the delicious sides. You must think I eat like a horse.”
He waved his hands over the table. “We got choices. If we’d eaten at the restaurant, we’d have ordered this much.”
“Maybe it looks like more when it comes in boxes.”
“Last bite of the crab cake. You want it?”
She fanned her fingers over her stomach. “I’m stuffed.”
“You didn’t save room for dessert?” He popped the seafood morsel into his mouth.
“Dessert, too?”
He jutted his chin. “Of course.”
“Maybe later?”
“Whatever you want.”
She tilted her head. “What are the desserts?”
“Ah. Your stomach says, ‘no,’ but your sweet tooth is curious, huh?”
She crossed her arms. “I can wait. I don’t have—”
“Heirloom Fudge Cake and Vanilla Bean Cheesecake.”
“Two desserts?”
He stacked the trash and re-covered the leftovers. “Two people. Two desserts. I’ll put these in the cooler, and we can settle in for the star show.” He stowed the food and retrieved two chairs from the trunk.
Setting them up perpendicular to the picnic table, he eased himself beside her. “Comfortable?”
“Hmm. Thanks.”
“I brought blankets if you get chilly.” He tugged on her sleeve. “That little jacket might not be enough in a while.”
Penn snuggled into her chair.
John took care of all the details. From the cooler for the leftovers to the chairs and blankets, to the flashlight he’d placed on the table when he blew out the candle. John oozed dependability, capability, and plain old, hard-to-resist charm.
He pointed to the crowd growing around a huge black tube. “The club’s supposed to have a high-powered telescope here tonight. I guess that’s it. We can walk over there if you want. I picked this spot so that we could talk without bothering the star gazers.”
“I’m good here.” Any other time, looking through the telescope, trying to find the rings around Saturn, finding Jupiter’s moons would have been interesting, but tonight being part of a crowd oohing and aahing over the beauty of the heavens wasn’t tempting. Tonight, being with John...
“Me, too. I have to tell you. I don’t know anything about astronomy. I can sometimes find the Big Dipper. That’s about it.”
“There it is.” She pointed left. “See the four stars that make up the bowl?”
“Where?’ He leaned so close that she could smell the familiar spicy scent of his aftershave. Concentrate on the stars, not on his smell. “Right there. Beside the—”
“Cluster of little white dots?”
“No, silly—” Her dipper explanation evaporated.
His face hovered inches from hers, but his gaze was pointed to somewhere in the stars.
He pivoted.
If she’d moved an inch, her nose would have touched his, but he moved first, tilting his head and brushing her lips with his. “I’ve wanted to do that since you opened the door tonight.”
Should she answer him? Maybe say, “me, too?” Maybe she did.
He grinned and palmed her cheek. His lips teased the base of her throat, explored the side of her neck, and claimed hers with a lazy, lingering kiss.
Thank goodness for her chair. Dizzy waves rippled through her brain.
She slid her hands up his chest to wrap around his neck, straining against him, wanting him closer. With her encouragement, he scooted nearer and deepened the kiss, tangling his fingers in her curls.
Excited voices carried from the crowd. He broke away, resting his forehead against hers, breathless. He pressed her hand against his chest. “Penny. Feel what you do to my crazy heart.”
She kept her eyes closed. The reality of the cool night under the stars settled on her body. She shivered.
He kissed her cheek, then left to fetch a blanket from the backseat of the car. When he returned, he positioned his chair closer to hers and retracted the arms between them. “There. That’s better.” He tucked the tartan blanket around her and fit her under his arm. He threaded his fingers through hers.
“Warm now?” His breath ticked the top of her head.
“Toasty.”
Very warm, in fact. The heat from his body pressed beside hers sent tingles in every direction. She scrunched in her seat, dropped her head back to take in the celestial view.
“Good idea.” He copied her position. “I think we’ve missed some of the shooting stars, although I think we created some of our own.”
She giggled.
He rolled his head toward her. “Corny, huh?”
“Just a tad.”
“Sorry. You make me feel...”
“Like you have to say corny things?”
He snorted. “Cute. Like I don’t know what to say. Like I’m tongue-tied.”
Familiar feeling for her, but him? “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true, though.”
His thumb’s slow track over her wrist played with her concentration. Silence descended and lingered for several minutes.
“Like now. I want to ask you about the CPA exam, but I’m not sure if you want to talk about it.”
She plucked at the wool blanket. “I’ll talk about it.”
“How was it? Have you heard your score?”
“I felt prett
y good about it. Better than last time. A couple more weeks, and I should hear.”
His thumb stilled against her wrist. “So you’ll pass, get a fancy job, and move to the city?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? What does that mean?”
“I’ve been thinking over the past few weeks. I love my life here. My aunts. My students. I’m reconnecting with Abby.” She met his eyes. “You’ve been a part of my change in attitude, John.” She traced the scar above his cheekbone. “You helped me see the value in my life here.”
He glided his fingers through her curls and over her ear, cradling the back of her neck. “That sounds good.” He kissed the corner of her eye. “Brings me to my next question. Does this new look at your life include me maybe?” He kissed the bridge of her nose.
She worked to concentrate on the conversation and not on his lips. “I hope so.”
“Good.” He kissed the corner of her other eye. “But, Penn, you remember that I’m a pilot.” He sat back and left her blinking at his retreat.
“I remember. It’s kind of hard to forget something like that.” She leaned toward him.
He withdrew and loosened his hold on her shoulder. “You remember, too, it’s the primary way I make a living, right?”
“Yes.” How could she forget?
“Do you...think we could spend time together?” His eyes pinned hers. “See where this...attraction between us goes?” His bouncing leg wiggled the blanket.
“Yes.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t think it’ll be a problem?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want it to be.” She tugged at his sleeve, wanted him to move closer again.
John drew in a breath and blew it out slowly. “Honest. I told you I like that.” He gathered her hand with his, held it between his knees. “I get that you flying the other week was an extraordinary event. I won’t ask you to fly somewhere just because you flew once. I saw how difficult it was for you.” He kissed the back of her hand, flipped it over and left a matching kiss on her palm.
His caresses rendered her breathless. How could she answer him? “Thank you for saying that.”
If he didn’t let go of her hand, she’d have to snatch it away or lose her mind.
He caught her chin in his fingers, lifted her eyes to meet his. “I’m not just saying it, Penn. I know it.” His thumb swiped her lips. “And even though my goal is to make a living writing, I still love flying. I love being up there.”
“I know. I’m not asking you to stop.” But please stop talking and kiss me again.
“So. You think we’ve got something interesting to pursue?” He kissed the corner of her mouth.
“Mmm. Most definitely.” Her fingers found the silky hair at the nape of his neck, reveled in the softness and pushed him to her.
“Good.” He tightened his arm around her again, stopped teasing her with kisses on her cheek, beside her eye, near her mouth, and finally covered her lips with his.
Epilogue
“Rabbit. Rabbit!” Winnie greeted Penn as she entered the kitchen and glanced out the window over the sink.
Jancie repeated the silly words.
Penn joined the game. “Rabbit. Rabbit.”
Ever since Winnie heard a newscaster mention her family’s unusual first-day-of-the-month greeting, she’d adopted it as their own.
Winnie poured Penn a cup of coffee. “Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well.” Her gaze darted to the kitchen door. She wore a bright smile, a tad too bright before eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. “Remind me what you plan to do today?” She shot a look to the window.
Jancie dropped a dollop of rhubarb jam onto her slice of toast. “Oh, that reminds me. Andy left a message on the machine. Wants to know a good time to pick up his taxes.”
Tax forms. Would her heart ever not thrill at the sound of her name associated with tax forms? Penn Davenport, Certified Public Accountant slash teacher. Penn Davenport, teacher slash Certified Public Accountant. It didn’t matter which came first. She answered to both. Thank You again for helping me pass the exam.
She’d acquired four clients, not including her aunts, for her on-the-side tax business.
And as it so often did when happy thoughts filled her brain, her mind snapped to John. John. He’d been as patient as a rock with her over the past six months. Calling before taking off. Calling as soon as he landed.
She still prayed throughout his flights and sometimes was a little agitated, but panic didn’t control her as it had before her own flight. She traced the rim of her mug with her fingertip.
“Penny, dear.” Winnie knocked the table with her knuckles. “Hey, where’d you go, honey?”
Jancie dawdled at the sink, peering out the window.
“Sorry. Just thinking.” Penn drained her coffee. “What is the deal with the window?”
Jancie grabbed the refrigerator door and stuck her head inside.
Winnie scratched her nose. “Ahmm. It may be April on the calendar, but the station is forecasting snow by the middle of next week. It’s a little gray out this morning. You never told us your plans for today.”
“Well, after I check on Peri—”
“Good plan.” Winnie bobbed her head. “Checking on Peri.”
Penn narrowed her eyes. “It’s not good or bad. It’s the normal plan. I check on him every day, remember?”
“Of course, we do.” Jancie raised an eyebrow at Winnie. “What then, sweetie?”
Penn pointed a finger at both of them. “You two are up to something.” What were they planning? “Or you wouldn’t be so interested in my boring plans for today.”
Jancie buttoned her navy cardigan. “We’re going to run up to Wagner’s Market and just wanted to know if you’d be here for lunch or not.”
“Is that all?” She raked her nails across her chin. “Really?”
Jancie unbuttoned her cardigan. “Really. Would you like anything special?”
Their angelic faces revealed nothing. They didn’t even blink. “You’re planning something. I know it, but I’ll let it go for now.” She pushed her chair from the table. “I’ll be here today. Al Martin and Mr. Blanton are picking up their taxes. I’ll call and see if Andy wants to drop by, too.” She stretched and yawned. “I better get out to Peri. He’ll be wondering where I am.”
Her garnet-colored barn jacket hung on a hook by the back door. She shrugged it over her shoulders. As she reached for a hat, a shriek froze her hand midway to the other hook.
“Oh, no. Don’t wear that old cap.” Winnie snatched the black and gold tassel cap off before Penn could grab it.
“What?”
“The pom-pom is about to fall off.” Winnie stuffed it under her arm. “Here’s a nice dark blue beret instead.” She plopped it on top of Penn’s head and fluffed curls around her face.
Penn shuffled away from Winnie’s ministrations. “Will you stop already? I’m checking on Peri, not having my picture taken.”
“You’re right. Silly me.” Winnie reached up again to tug the beret more to one side.
Penn batted Winnie’s hand from the hat and kissed her on her cheek. “It’s good. Thank you.”
Winnie fidgeted with the cap. “All righty, then. We’ll be shoving off, too.”
Jancie plucked her jacket off a hook. “Come on, sister.” She handed Winnie hers. “Bundle up. It’s still cold out there.”
Penn trudged to the stable and enveloped her neck with her collar. The overcast sky blew a chilly breeze that ruffled curls peeking out of her beret. Snow might be forecasted for next week, but signs pointed to the possibility of earlier flakes.
Buds on the forsythia bushes along the side of the yard already showed a faint yellow tint. Maybe the snow wouldn’t zap those fragile bits of color.
She raised the latch on the rough-hewn door. The hinges creaked, and Peri neighed an answer from his stall.
“Good morning, buddy. Did you think I was
n’t coming? Huh?” She moved to her friend who hung his large head over the railing in greeting. “You might want to get your pasture time in early today. Looks like snow could happen. Smells like it outside, too.”
She grabbed his face with both hands and snuggled her nose against his. “Although in here it smells like you and hay and,” she wrinkled her nose, “other stuff.”
Peri stomped his hooves.
“Hey, don’t get me wrong. I like the way it smells in here.” She opened the gate to the stall.
Peri shook his head and backed up.
“What? You don’t want to go out? You love to go out. What’s up?” She entered the stall with him, hey crackling under her feet. “Are you hurt?”
Concern knitted her countenance as she examined the front hooves.
Peri shook his head again.
She trained her eyes on his head and stepped to his rear. She ran her hands over the gaskin and down the cannon of each leg. Perfect.
“Peri? Come on. Don’t you want to get out of here?”
The horse rocked his head, neighed for emphasis.
With his head movement, something glinted from the side of his neck. She inched toward his neck. Something was entwined in his mane. She inspected the thick black hair. A blue ribbon twisted within the coarse tresses. A periwinkle blue ribbon.
The ribbon was new, definitely not tangled in Peri’s mane yesterday afternoon when she’d groomed him. She tugged on the ribbon and gasped.
Attached to the end was a ring. A platinum diamond ring. A beautiful, platinum, brilliant cut diamond ring with baguettes on each side. She drew the ring closer to her face, and the end of the ribbon, still tied to Peri’s mane, lifted a hank of hair.
“I hope that’s a good gasp.”
Penn whirled toward John. Her heart flew to her throat.
A tentative smile hovered on his mouth.
She swallowed and grabbed a handful of the black mane to support her wobbling legs.
Acutely handsome in a vest, a green plaid shirt, and a tan Henley peeking out from underneath, he leaned against the door frame, his hands in his pockets.
“John.”
He’d been gone all week, returning last night. They had plans for dinner tonight, but here he stood in her stable this morning.
Mars with Venus Rising Page 26
