Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“I really didn’t know what you did until you were explaining it to Pap the other day in Chesty’s. It made me realize… you love Whynot as much as I do, you’re just showing it in a different way.”
She nods, her expression between amused and fond. “I love what I do—fighting for farmers and rural communities, trying to keep family land in family hands, but it’s hard work.”
“I can’t imagine anything is easy about politics,” I murmur.
“I often compare it to shouting into the wind. And the victories are small, but every one of them counts. Coming back reminded me of that.”
I rest my elbows on the table, intrigued. “How so?”
“I obviously came home to help Muriel, but it wasn’t just about helping her. It was about the people, because they’re the ones who inspired me to fight for change all along. The farmers, the families, the small businesses, trying to survive. If I can make a difference in their lives by offering them biscuits in the morning while Muriel recuperates, then that might be just as important as what I do in DC.”
“Muriel owes you a huge debt of gratitude,” I muse, taking a sip of my beer. “Running that diner is no easy task.”
“It sure beats sitting in an office full of people arguing about pork-barrel spending.”
I grin. “You mean the kind of pork-barrel spending that has nothing to do with sausage?”
She snorts out a laugh that makes a couple at another table glance over. “Exactly that kind.”
I love how she laughs—unapologetic, unfiltered. There’s something contagious about it.
We fall into easier talk after that. She tells me about DC—the restaurants that stay open until two in the morning, the Smithsonian’s night tours, the majesty of the mall. It all sounds magical and is definitely a place I would like to visit.
In my mind, I compare it to Whynot’s spring festivals, the annual pie-eating contest, how Chesty’s once hosted a karaoke fundraiser that ended with Pap singing “My Girl” to a potted fern because it was the only thing that wouldn’t walk away.
I truly can’t imagine living anywhere else.
And the thing that sucks about liking a woman such as Penny? I’m thinking she’d say the same thing about Washington.
We indulge in dessert and at Clementine’s, it’s always the same—pecan pie and decaf coffee. By the time we step outside, I’m surprised to see that we spent over two hours in there and never ran out of things to talk about. My ribs are slightly sore from the way she made me laugh, and I don’t know what to think about the fact that she loops her arm through mine as we stroll along the sidewalk.
When she rests her head against my arm, I know I’m falling for this girl, and we haven’t even kissed yet. Crickets sing like they’re onstage at an opera, and the streetlights cast everything in a soft, golden haze. The romance author in me thinks the setting couldn’t be better for the end of a first date.
We walk slowly toward Muriel’s house. It’s only three blocks away and we left my truck there since it was such a nice night.
“I forget how quiet it gets here,” she says. “In DC, there’s always noise—sirens, people, traffic.”
“Some people find it boring,” I say.
“It feels… peaceful. Grounded.”
“You sound dangerously close to saying you missed it.”
She bumps my shoulder with hers. “Don’t push your luck.”
When we reach the sidewalk that borders Muriel’s front porch, Penny turns to face me. “Thanks for dinner, Sam. I enjoyed every minute of it.”
“Me too.” I tuck my hands into my pockets and toss out my request. “Are you up for doing it again?”
“Another date?”
“Tomorrow night?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. We’re training a new waitress.”
“Lunch?” I suggest.
“At the diner?”
“No, but just be ready to go at noon.”
Penny beams at me. “All right. It’s a date.”
She turns to walk up the sidewalk, but my hand shoots out of my pocket and wraps around her wrist.
Penny glances back at me, eyebrows raised in question.
“I know you didn’t forget about our conversation regarding my intentions. I gave you fair warning.”
She gives me a cocky grin and I can tell she didn’t forget about my promise at all. “The part where you warned me you were absolutely going to kiss me tonight?”
“That’s the one.”
“Well,” she murmurs, stepping closer, “I appreciate a man who keeps his promises.”
“And I appreciate a woman who doesn’t hang back shyly but steps into what she wants.”
My hands move to frame her face, and the kiss starts slow and careful. But when her lips move against mine, the world narrows to nothing but us. Her hand comes up to my chest, a soft press that sends heat straight through me. I angle in closer, my palm finding the curve of her jaw, thumb brushing along her skin. She sighs into it, and the sound goes straight to my head.