She's Up to No Good(72)

“It’s okay to say no,” he said again, quietly, and I turned toward him.

It took a moment. Or maybe it didn’t, and time just felt like it slowed down. Maybe I leaned in first or maybe he did or maybe whatever cosmic force that propelled my grandmother away from Tony and toward my grandfather was pushing us together. But then it happened. His lips on mine, so gently, as if he were still asking permission. He pulled back slightly, brushed a piece of hair from my forehead, then ran his fingertips down the side of my face to my bottom lip. I leaned forward and he kissed me again, firmer this time, a hand wrapping itself in my hair.

And for once, I didn’t overthink or panic about the consequences—I couldn’t have if I tried.

“Sorry.” He pulled away again. “That’s probably not a fair way to ask about the picture, is it?”

I laughed and pressed a hand to my eyes. “Is that how you get all of your work?”

“Just you. And Jax.” She was lying by our feet and picked up her head at her name.

It should have been awkward. It was my first kiss since Brad, and, well, Brad hadn’t kissed me like that in years. Maybe not ever like that. Which should have been a clue that we weren’t going to last.

But it wasn’t awkward.

“Who’s the better kisser?”

“Definitely you. Jax licks her own butt sometimes.”

I burst into giggles. “I’m not sure that’s a high bar.”

We looked at each other, and I realized I needed to leave. If I stayed, things were going to happen. Probably right there. On the table where the picture was. I glanced down at it, biting my bottom lip. Definitely had to head back.

“I should go,” I said. His face dropped, and something in my chest jumped at his disappointment.

“Are you sure?”

My eyes darted to the table again. “Yeah,” I said lightly. “But I’ll see you tomorrow when we go whale hunting.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Watching.”

“I’ve never seen one. It’s a hunt for me.”

“Do you want to think about the picture?”

“I don’t need to. It’s yours.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I paused. “Do I get a cut if you sell it?”

“I’ll take you to a really nice dinner.”

“How nice?”

“Lobster and champagne.”

“Ooh la la.” We stood there smiling like idiots, and I desperately wanted him to kiss me again before I left.

“I’ll walk you to your car.” He went to the desk and picked up a leash for Jax.

“It’s only a couple of blocks. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you’ll be fine.” He clipped the leash on to her collar. “But maybe I want the extra ten minutes with you.”

My heart beat faster.

He turned off the lights and locked up the shop as we left, then took my hand, his other holding the leash, as Jax frolicked around us.

White holiday lights decorated the trees, giving Main Street a festive feel in the warm summer air, and we walked the long way, going six blocks instead of two.

When we reached my grandmother’s car, we stood awkwardly for a moment saying goodbye, then kissed again, deeper, more urgently this time, my back pressing into the door of the car as I felt him against me. If he asked me to go home with him . . . But he didn’t.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” he said, kissing my cheek, then my lips once more, softly.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“Good night, Jenna.”

“Good night.” He opened the car door for me, and I sank into the seat.





I climbed the steps to the cottage, the light of the television flickering through the front window and reflecting onto the porch. I didn’t call out as I swung the door quietly open in case she had fallen asleep in front of the TV again.

“Jenna?” she called. “Who’s there?”

“It’s me, Grandma.” I went to the doorway of the living room.

“What are you doing here?”

I looked at her, concerned. She had probably just woken up, and being disoriented was normal at her age, but still concerning. Especially because she had been drinking at the dinner.

“I drove you to Hereford. Remember?”

“I know that. I’m not an idiot. Why are you here instead of at Joe’s?”

I exhaled loudly. “Seriously? I just met the guy.”

“Prude. When it’s right, it’s right. What are you waiting for? It’s not like you’re a virgin.”

“Oh my—no. I’m going to bed. Good night.”

“It’s not too late to call Joe if you don’t want to do that alone.”

“Good night, Grandma.”

“I don’t know where I went wrong with that girl,” she muttered as I went up the stairs.





CHAPTER FORTY-THREE


July 1951


Hereford, Massachusetts


Three more days crept by while Evelyn tried to decide what to do. Mrs. Gardner’s voice would come back to her and she would resolve to leave, going so far as to pack a bag. But Vivie slipped into the room when Evelyn went to get her toothbrush.