“Sorry we’re late,” he whispered, hunched over, trying not to block the screen. “The sitter couldn’t find her car keys.”
Holding Noelle’s hand, Seth made his way to the back. “Hey, Gemma.”
“Hey, y’all.” Now which way did she scoot? Toward or away from John? What if he scooted closer to Scottie. What if this bench didn’t hold seven people?
“Can we crowd in here?” Seth said, taking the popcorn bags Cole handed over.
“Absolutely.” John slid toward Gemma, tucking in so tight their elbows touched. Now her crazy, runaway pulse was so loud she couldn’t make out the dialog. Worse, she was absolutely crushing on the prince.
Shoot, she’d slept in the barn across from the prince for almost two weeks. This was no big deal. But oh, every time his arm touched hers, her entire body flamed. This. Was. A. Big. Deal.
But it shouldn’t be. Couldn’t be.
Cole stood up to fill his bag of popcorn from the machine.
“Down in front,” Scottie called, and Gemma snorted a laugh. She covered her mouth with her fingers. Nice. Very elegant. Snorting a laugh.
Well, eventually she forgot about her seatmate and lost herself in the film, in the adventure in North Africa as Rick and Ilsa fought for freedom. Fought for love.
Finishing her water and popcorn, she cleaned her hands with a wipe from the container JoJo passed around then sat back, heart still engaged with Sam on the screen as he played it again.
She startled when a hand touched hers. John. Slowly, gently, he slid his palm against hers and entwined their fingers, igniting a five-alarm fire in her. What was he doing?
John reclined against the back of the seat, his shoulder touching hers. Oh, help but he was killing her. One tingle at a time.
Don’t think. Don’t analyze. Just be for once.
So little by little, millimeter by millimeter, she leaned against him.
Everything was fine until Ilsa pressed into Rick and declared with a weepy voice, “If you knew how much I love you. How much I still love you.”
John sat up and yanked his hand from hers. Leaning forward on his arms, he watched the rest of the movie with a stiff, barriered posture and never once looked at Gemma again.
Chapter Fifteen
John
“You should get some sleep,” he said as he exited the puppy stall, his eye on Gemma, the memory of her hand in his haunting him.
He left the drive-in with her just before midnight—Gunner followed in his rental—and arrived at the barn for the midnight feeding.
Imani had prepped the bottles then texted Gemma.
Tina called. Needs me on the breakfast shift.Going to bed.
So Gunner volunteered to help. What a sight to see the squiggly, hungry puppies in the big man’s hands.
At the moment, he slept in his motor, though John assured him he could sleep in the barn or go back to the pool house.
“You’re my duty, sir. The motor’s plenty comfy.”
The cats meowed and rubbed against his ankles. They seemed to think the midnight feeding included them.
“What a long day.” Gemma hung up her apron which covered her dress from the evening. Her hair fell about her shoulders, a bit wild and frayed from the humidity and he fought the urge to reach for her, hold her, tell her how much he loved holding her hand. Then again, he pulled away. “But the movie was good.”
“Yes, very.” Ilsa’s confession to Rick echoed through him. The same one he’d made to Holland.“If you knew how much I love you…”
Wanting to hold Gemma made him feel untrue to Holland. Which was also unfair to Gemma. Even if he was completely ready to move on, he’d not assembled anything close to a whole, working heart.
