“Were you planning on typing it out on this thing, too?” I nodded toward Gran’s typewriter. “Just to keep it authentic?”
His eyes narrowed.
“Just checking. Originals stay. Period. Or hey, feel free to use that out.” Originals never left the house, and he wasn’t the exception just because he was pretty. Our eyes warred in a silent argument, but eventually he nodded.
“I’ll begin reading tonight and will call you with my thoughts when I’m finished. Once we agree on the direction of the plot, I’ll start writing.”
I walked him to the door, unable to kick the nervousness tightening my chest. “You said you know the worth of what I just handed to you.”
“I do.”
Our gazes collided, the electricity—chemistry, attraction, whatever it was—coursing between us enough to raise goose bumps on my arm. “Earn it.”
His dark eyes flared at the challenge. “I’ll give them the happily-ever-after they deserve.”
My hand tightened on the doorknob. “Oh, no. That’s the one thing you can’t do.”
Chapter Six
August 1940
Middle Wallop, England
Scarlett’s heart clenched as she watched Jameson whirl Constance around the small dance floor of the local pub. He took so much care with Constance because he knew how precious she was to Scarlett, which only made her like him more.
Too much, too soon, too fast…it was all of that and then some, but she couldn’t bring herself to slow it down.
“You’re falling for him, aren’t you?” one of his American friends—Howard Reed, if she remembered correctly—asked from across their table, his arm wrapped around Christine, another filter officer who bunked in the same hut as Scarlett.
Christine glanced over the top of the newspaper she was reading. The headlines were more than enough to convince Scarlett to look away.
“I…couldn’t say,” Scarlett answered, even as heat bloomed in her cheeks, giving her away. She was with Jameson every free moment they had, and between his flight hours and her schedule, there weren’t a lot of moments to be had between them.
She’d only known him for three weeks, and yet she couldn’t remember what the world had felt like before. There were now two eras in her life—before Jameson, and now.
She filed the after Jameson in the same category as after the war. Both were obscure enough concepts that she refused to waste her time examining either of them, especially now. Since the Battle of Britain, as Churchill had called it, had begun a few weeks ago, and the Germans had begun bombing various airfields around Britain, their time together had taken on the sharp, undeniable taste of desperation—an urgency to grasp on to what they could while they had it.
Work had picked up, too. Their schedule was grueling, and she found herself placing flags for Jameson’s own patrols on the map, marking his current location and holding her breath as the news came in minute by minute from the radio operators. She noticed every time a 609 flag moved, even if it wasn’t on her section of the board.
“Yeah, well, he’s sweet on you, too,” Howard remarked with a grin.
The song came to an end, but there was no band to clap for, just a record to be changed.
Jameson escorted Constance through the sea of uniforms and back to the table.
“Dance with me, Scarlett,” he said, offering his hand and a smile that stripped away her defenses.
“Of course.” She traded places with her sister, then slid into Jameson’s arms as a slower tune started up.
“I’m glad I got to see you tonight,” he said into her hair.
“I hate that it’s only for a few hours.” She rested her cheek on his chest and breathed him in. He always smelled like soap, aftershave lotion, and the tang of metal that seemed to cling to his skin even between patrols.
“I’ll take a few hours with you on a Wednesday night whenever I get the chance,” he promised softly.
His heartbeat was strong and steady as they swayed. Here was the only place she felt safe or certain about anything lately. There was nothing in this world that compared to the feel of his arms around her.
“I wish I could stay here, just like this,” she said softly, her fingers making lazy circles on the shoulder of his uniform.
“We can.” His hand splayed on her lower back without venturing into more southern territory, unlike many of the other soldiers around them with their partners.
Jameson was respectful to the level of complete and utter frustration. He hadn’t so much as kissed her—not really, though he’d often move just close enough to spike her heart rate before pressing his lips to her forehead.
“For another fifteen minutes,” she muttered. “Then you have to leave for patrol.”
“And you have work, if I’m not mistaken.”
She sighed, then looked away from the couple next to them as dancing became a fully involved kiss.
“Why haven’t you kissed me?” Scarlett asked him softly.
His rhythm broke for a breath of a second, and he took her chin between his thumb and finger, tilting her face gently toward his. “Yet.”
Her brow furrowed.
“Why haven’t I kissed you yet,” he clarified.
“Don’t play with words.”
“I’m not.” He caressed her lower lip with his thumb. “I’m just making sure you know it’s a yet.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, then why haven’t you kissed me yet?” All around them, the world changed so fast, she barely knew what to expect in the next minute. Bombs fell and planes crashed, yet he acted like they had years—when she wasn’t sure they even had days.
…
He glanced toward the couple at their left. No wonder she was questioning his less than speedy timing. “Because you’re not just another girl in a pub,” he said as they began to sway again, his hand cupping her face gently. “Because we’ve only been alone once, and kissing you for the first time isn’t something I want to happen in front of an audience.” Not if he kissed her like he wanted to.
“Oh.” Her eyebrows shot up.
“Oh.” A slow smile spread across his face. If she knew half the thoughts that went through his head when it came to her, she would have put in for a transfer. “I also know your world has a hell of a lot more rules than mine, so I’m trying my best not to break any of them.”
“Not so many, really.” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth, as though she needed to think it over.