“You should. And if you ever change your mind, I’ll be right next door. All you have to do is ring the bell.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Well . . .” He stood. What more was there to say? “I think I’ll take this home and heat it up later, after I take that walk on the beach.” He picked up the cinnamon roll and slid it back into the bag she’d left on the counter.
She followed him to the door. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“I’m sure you will. It’s a small town.”
He turned toward her, intending to say a simple good-bye—but at the longing in her eyes, the breath jammed in his lungs.
Sweet heaven.
Did she have any idea what a powerful invitation she was sending?
Not likely, since it didn’t match her words.
Yet the unconscious message came straight from her heart.
And he couldn’t ignore it.
His fingers crimped the top of the bag.
Maybe they were never destined to be anything more than neighbors.
Maybe she’d stick by her decision to avoid relationships and remain forever in the solitary world she’d created, with only her lavender plants for company.
Maybe she was strong enough to make it through life without the light of love to brighten her days and guide her steps.
But why not leave her with a hint of what she was missing?
Without giving the left side of his brain a chance to kick in and dissuade him, Logan shifted the cinnamon roll aside, leaned down, and pressed his lips to hers.
Her sudden, indrawn breath told him she was surprised.
He’d expected that.
What he hadn’t expected was the sweet stirring of her mouth beneath his that told him she welcomed his kiss.
Jeannette might think she didn’t want love in her life, but her ardent response said otherwise.
And that was hopeful.
It was also very, very tempting.
The urge to continue the kiss, to pull her close and deepen it until there was no doubt in her mind how much she attracted him, was fierce.
But that would be a mistake.
If she wanted more, she had to be the one to initiate it.
After giving himself a few more seconds to memorize the feel of her mouth against his, he slowly pulled back.
She stared up at him, her fingers clamped around the edge of the door. As if she needed the support.
“Just a preview of what’s waiting next door if you ever change your mind.” He cleared the huskiness from his throat. “Good night, Jeannette.” He stroked a finger down her cheek, turned, and forced himself to walk away.
Only after he rounded the corner of the hedge and was out of sight of her house did he slow his pace—and try to convince his pulse to return to a normal rhythm.
Wow.
The lady knew how to kiss.
And he wanted more.
But he’d laid his cards on the table. Demonstrated the depth of his interest. The next move was up to her.
And if she never came around?
He exhaled.
Maybe someday he’d meet another woman with potential—but he had a feeling no one would ever live up to Jeannette.
For now, though, all he could do was give her time and space . . . and pray she would find the courage to put her fears to rest and take a chance on love.
22
She ought to be in church.
But she couldn’t face all those people today—not when she had to deal with a crowd later at tea.
For once, she’d have to visit with God here on Driftwood Beach.
Jeannette shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket as a gust of cool wind whipped past. It wasn’t the best day for a walk by the sea, after the fierce storm that had raged last night—both outside and in her heart—but with Logan picking up Molly from her sleepover this morning and going to church, she wouldn’t have to worry about running into the threesome from next door down here at this hour.
Slowing her pace, she assessed the ominous clouds massed on the horizon. There could be more stormy weather in store. Maybe she ought to ditch the walk and go home, take a nap. With all the lightning and thunder last night, she hadn’t clocked much shut-eye.
The storm wasn’t the main reason you couldn’t sleep, Jeannette.
Too true—and ignoring the root cause of her insomnia was as useless as trying to catch a mole crab.
That kiss was to blame for her tossing and turning.
No—that wasn’t quite accurate.
Her restlessness had been due to far more than a mere kiss—though there had been nothing mere about Logan’s potent lip-lock.
The real cause was the hibernating hopes and dreams and longings buried deep in her heart that her neighbor had stirred to life with that kiss.
And now that they were awake and clamoring for attention, what was she supposed to do with them?
Especially the longings, which were as unruly as Toby in his pre-Thomma days.
Jeannette kicked at a piece of driftwood.
This wasn’t fair.
She’d arrived at her decision to live a solitary existence after much reflection and prayer. Her life was exactly as she’d planned it. Until the past few weeks, there had been no one in it to cause her one iota of worry or agitation.
Now she had plenty of both.
Sighing, she scanned the dark clouds.
So what’s going on, God? You know I’m hanging on to my faith by a thread. Why are you making everything so hard? Why does life have to be so hard? Why is— “Morning, Jeannette. You look as if you’re contemplating the mysteries of the universe on this beautiful day.”
She whirled around. Peered at the approaching figure.
Was that Charley ambling up the beach toward her?
Yeah, it was. No mistaking that distinctive ponytail or the Ducks cap.
What on earth was he doing in her neck of the woods?
She forced up the corners of her mouth as he drew near. “For a minute I thought you were an illusion. I rarely see anyone on this out-of-the-way beach.”
“I’ve been here often.”
“Why haven’t I ever run into you?”
“We must come at different times.” He gave her one of the trademark smiles that illuminated his face.
That was possible. And she didn’t get to the beach as much as she’d like to, anyway. The farm and tearoom took up most of her waking hours.
“It’s kind of strange our paths crossed today. I usually walk on brighter days. I was hoping the sun would come out if I ventured down here.”
“Sunny days are a treasure—but there’s beauty in storms too. Volatile weather offers boundless inspiration for my painting.” He swept a hand across the horizon. “Isn’t that a magnificent example of God’s handiwork?”
She didn’t try to hide her skepticism as she surveyed the angry dark clouds. “That must be your artist’s eye talking.”
“Also the human one. Shall we stroll?” He fell in beside her without waiting for an answer.
So much for her solo walk.
And maybe that was okay, given the unsettled state of her emotions. Charley always had a few thought-provoking observations to offer, and perhaps one of them would help her sort through her jumbled feelings.
“As for the beauty in storms”—he picked up the conversation without missing a beat—“I suppose you have to work harder to see it. Sunshine and blue skies get all the positive press.” After giving her a quick flash of his white teeth, he grew more serious. “But storms have amazing power. They can transform. Bring to the surface hidden treasures.” He bent and scooped a small object out of the sand. “Like this.”