She gazed back at him a moment, struck by how golden and open his brown eyes looked in the late afternoon sunlight. Why not, indeed? She should have been out here fishing that very first weekend she’d moved back. What in the world was she waiting for?
“Oh, Miss Becca, I forgot to tell you. I like your friend Devon a lot!” JJ said, packing the remaining items. “He came out and fished with us on Sunday. He came the Sunday before, too!”
“No kidding! Good for him.”
“He’s a nice kid,” Josh said.
Rebecca smiled. “He sure is. He invited me to some giveaway ministry this Friday night. Said it’s more of a Dahlia thing than a church thing?”
“Oh, yeah, the Friday Night Giveaway. I’ve helped out once or twice when JJ did a sleepover with his cousins.” Josh nodded. “It’s a lot of fun. They have music, and all the volunteers stay after and eat together.”
“We should go this Friday, Dad,” JJ said. “You said I could go next time.”
Josh got to his feet, ruffled his son’s hair. “That I did.” He smiled at Rebecca. “Maybe we’ll see you there? If you promise to come, I’ll bring my guitar.”
Her eyes widened. “Josh Jamison: superdad, master chef, and guitar player?”
He elbowed her. “Hey now.”
Driving home, she realized she was not only smiling but humming along to the radio. It had been a good day, she thought, best she’d had in a long time.
As she approached Church Street, she remembered she’d left her laptop on her desk at the newsroom, decided it wouldn’t hurt to swing by and snag it. It helped ward off insomnia when sheknew she could do a little work on the paper, and besides, Sarah had texted earlier about a job possibility. Even if things were getting better in Dahlia, she needed to keep her options open. Anything could happen between now and December.
She’d slid out of her car and was fumbling with the office keys when she heard a loud zoom and another car, a black Audi, pulled up right beside her.
Erik Wennerman.
A clutch of something—attraction or nerves, she didn’t care to know which—settled in her belly, but she forced a smile. He was an advertiser, after all. A very cute one, but an advertiser nonetheless.
She swiped a hand through her messy hair but decided there wasn’t much she could do about it. She’d just been fishing, for goodness’ sake.
“Hey there,” she said as he got out of the car, expensive-looking sunglasses on, the kind Peter would wear. His tousled hair looked windblown, which surprisingly suited him. He gave her a wide smile.
“I’m glad I spotted you!”
“Oh?” She tilted her head, curious, but he didn’t elaborate.
The office was cool as they stepped in, and she left the door open, flicked on the lights.
“I only stopped by to grab my laptop. You have good timing.”
He stepped closer. “This might sound, well, a little cheesy, but I’ve been thinking of you since you ran out of the coffee shop last time.”
“I didn’t exactly run out.”
“Well, left quickly, let’s say.” A dimple quirked, and she found herself unreasonably angry at it. Stop it, Rebecca. “Anyway, it got me thinking.”
She waited, watched his face. If she wasn’t mistaken, he was blushing. Even Peter hadn’t done that. Was this guy for real?
“I—I’d love to take you to dinner some night. Preferably this Saturday.”
“Ah—”
He held up a hand. “If you have plans, that’s fine. We can go Friday or even Monday or Tuesday, if weeknights work better.”
“Erik, I—”
“You’re, well, you’re a beautiful, successful, intelligent woman, and let’s just say women like you don’t often land in this part of South Carolina.” The dimple deepened, and she found herself gritting her teeth, wanting to wipe that cute little grin off his handsome face.
