In the months and years ahead, he’d always pull out this memory when thinking of Angelica. Years wouldn’t dim the happiness. Time wouldn’t tarnish this perfect moment. He imprinted it forever on his mind.
She stopped talking and cocked her head to the left.
“Are you listening to me?”
He nodded, wishing she’d stay forever, knowing she couldn’t. Her future did not lie in Smoky Hollow.
Chapter Ten
When Angelica left a short time later, Kirk leaned against the table, feeling as if he’d run a marathon. The effort to keep from touching her had been tremendous. But he couldn’t get more involved. He remembered how he’d felt when Alice returned his ring. The message had been clear—there was more she wanted from life than him.
If he’d gone after her, would that have changed any thing?
But he hadn’t.
He hadn’t known Angelica nearly as long as he’d known Alice. This burning in his blood for her could be extinguished in a short order. It only felt deeper and stronger than what he’d felt for Alice because it was fresh and immediate.
Once she left—he didn’t want to think about that day. Get through this one. Focus on his work. Ignore the clamoring of his senses to spend more time with her. Dinner together would be nice. Maybe some dancing so he could hold her close, breathe in the sweet scent of her, memorize the feel of her body against his. He knew she wasn’t very worldly in her personal life. Could he be the one to show her how passion could spark and flare between them?
He didn’t need dancing, he felt as if every inch of her had been imprinted on him when they’d kissed.
He picked up the sandpaper, not trusting himself just yet with a sharp tool that could gouge as wrongly as certainly as it could the way he wanted. Slowly he let the rhythm of sanding soothe his blood. He could do this. She’d be gone soon.
The days might be tough to get through initially, but before Christmas, she’d only be a vague memory. Okay, maybe by next summer.
He threw down the paper in disgust. He was never ever going to forget Angelica Cannon. Closing the studio, he headed out. Maybe his granddad would welcome some company for supper.
When he called him, Hiram answered right away.
“Sure, come on over. Bring that New York gal with you. I’ve found some more music for her. Songs my mother sang when I was a boy. Seeing them again reminded me of her voice, like an angel.”
Kirk almost groaned in defeat. Even his grandfather was working against him. He couldn’t very well explain why he didn’t want to be around Angelica. That’d give rise to speculation he could do without. No sympathy this time around when nursing a broken heart. He’d had more than enough of that with Alice’s defection.
“I’ll ask her, she may have other plans.”
“What could she be doing in Smoky Hollow that you wouldn’t already know?” his grandfather asked.
“I don’t keep track of her every moment,” Kirk responded—though he’d like to.
“I heard the festival participants had a rehearsal today,” Hiram said.
Kirk never ceased to be amazed at how much his grandfather knew without ever stepping foot in town.
“She loved it,” he said.
“Figured she would. She can tell me over dinner. I’ll put on the barbecue, you can cook.”
Kirk gave in with as much grace as he could muster. “Okay. We’ll be over around six.”
Angelica had been delighted to accept the invitation when Kirk called her. He rolled out his motorcycle and went to pick her up shortly before six.
She was still excited about her afternoon.
“I can tell your grandfather all about it. I still want him to sing at the festival. Do you think he will?” she asked as she put on the helmet.
“No, but you can ask.”
As if they’d been riding partners for years, she easily slid into the space behind him and wrapped her arms around him. He could have taken the truck. She never would have been this close in the truck.
