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 laugh, kissing him again, softer this time, deeper. “Guess we’re terrible at long distance.”
“Guess we are,” he murmurs. “Good thing we’re better at together.”
We stand there in the quiet, surrounded by boxes and the hum of the city outside. His hand slips into mine, fingers interlaced, and the world narrows to this small, perfect moment.
I look up at him and smile. “Funny how everything feels right when it’s this simple.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I tug him closer, resting my head against his chest. “We finally both found where we truly belong.”
CHAPTER 25
Sam
The evening air in Whynot smells like fried dough and blooming magnolia.
Courthouse Square is strung with lights that sway gently in the spring breeze, and a local band plays from the gazebo—a mix of bluegrass and classic country that makes everyone’s hips move, even the ones pretending they’re too dignified to dance.
Penny’s hand is tucked in mine as we stroll through the crowd, and I relish this new feeling of being completely settled.
She’s been back for two days. Two perfect, chaotic, wonderful days. Boxes still unpacked, Muriel fussing about where her favorite niece left her measuring spoons, and my house suddenly full of flowers and the sound of Penny singing off-key while she cooks. I never thought domestic bliss would look like this, but damn if it doesn’t suit me.
“Funnel cake or fried pickles?” Penny asks, squinting toward the line of food vendors.
“Both,” I answer without hesitation.
She laughs, squeezing my hand. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s funny—I was thinking I’m predictable.”
We pass Pap’s tent first—Chesty’s logo splashed across a banner he clearly borrowed from the bar, even though he’s not serving drinks tonight. Instead, he’s flipping burgers on a portable grill, jaw set in concentration, a rag slung over one shoulder.
“Hey, boy!” he hollers when he spots me. “Figured I’d bring a little Chesty’s flair to the festival. You bring that famous author appetite over here and I’ll fix you a plate.”
I grin. “You sure you’re not gonna try to charge me double for publicity?”
Pap smirks, flipping a patty. “Consider it even for all the labor you stiffed me on when you quit.”
Floyd’s beside him at the condiment station, tongs in hand and an apron that reads Queen of the Grill.
“You two look disgustingly happy,” Floyd calls out. “It’s bad for business, you know. Nobody wants to see true love when they’re trying to enjoy their coleslaw.”
Penny laughs. “We’ll try to tone it down.”
“Don’t you dare,” Floyd replies, snapping his tongs. “This town could use the reminder that romance ain’t dead.”
Morri swoops in next, sequins flashing under the string lights, a tray of lemonade in hand. “Sweetheart,” he drawls to Penny, “you’re glowing like a Georgia peach at high noon. Welcome back, Miss Washington Insider turned Whynot Queen.”
Penny curtsies. “I’ll take that title.”
“Good,” Morri says, pressing a kiss to her cheek before flitting away to deliver drinks.
Everywhere we turn, someone’s waving, smiling or handing us something. Larkin and Deacon sway together near the bandstand, his hand resting protectively on her hip. Muriel’s parked in her rolling walker near the pie-judging booth, holding court with her cronies and clearly enjoying the attention.
Off to the side near the gazebo, I spot Eli Hart standing by a small display of honey jars, posture relaxed and expression unreadable. When he notices us, he tips his chin in greeting.
I jab him over something I heard in the gossip mill. “Hey, buddy… heard that travel blogger staying in your cottage is causing mayhem.”
Penny snickers because she’s the one who relayed the story to me. Apparently, Reese Cartier is staying around town for a while and is renting one of the cottages on Eli’s farm.
Eli grimaces. “The woman’s a menace. Clumsy as hell, too inquisitive for her own good, and yesterday, she got a damn video drone stuck in a tree. Had to climb up and get it down for her.”
“That’s impressive and mighty nice of you,” I say, trying hard not to laugh at the image.
“Yeah, well,” he mutters, like he still can’t believe it. “She swore she’d handle it herself, then immediately tried to throw a rake at it.”
Penny’s laughing now, full and bright. “Oh no.”
Eli shakes his head, but there’s the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I’ve seen calmer hornets than that woman.”
I grin. “Sounds like you’ve got entertainment for the next few weeks.”
“Or a migraine,” he deadpans sourly.
“I’m sure it will all be okay,” Penny assures him.
Eli gives a small, skeptical smile before turning back to his display and we continue our stroll through the crowd. I squeeze Penny’s hand, thinking how right he is.
We make it only a few steps past the bandstand before I spot my folks near the courthouse steps.
Dad’s got a paper plate in one hand, barbecue sauce on his thumb, and Mama’s talking to him with an animated wave of her hands.