don’t think so. This goes to before we got here.”
Began the instant she looked into Palmer’s eyes.
“I really hate to ask, but do you think you can take me home?”
He searched her face, but if there was any answer to be had there, apparently he didn’t find it. “That bad?”
She nodded. “I really hate to ruin the night, but all I can think about is going home and lying down.”
And flipping through the scrapbook of her memories.
Of course, she didn’t tell him that. Would never admit that Palmer’s appearance had had such an unexpected impact on her. Not to Barnaby. Not to anyone.
So much of what had transpired between her and Palmer had been unbearably private. There had really been no one to talk to back then. Or now.
Should she take it into her head to mention the visit to her grandmother, she could just imagine the reaction. The frowns. The head-shaking. The questions.
“Would you like one to go?” Barnaby asked. She smiled. “Yes, yes. That would be nice. Thank you.”
PENELOPE STOOD ON THE FRONT PORCH, a wrapped elephant ear in her hands as she faced Barnaby.
“Would you like me to come in?” he asked.
She looked down. Well, that was a first. Usually Barnaby was comfortable allowing her to set the tone. She shook her head. “No. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company.”
Night had fallen, day little more than a purple smear against the western sky. She’d left the porch light on and it threw Barnaby’s handsome features into soft relief.
“Thank you for taking me to the fair. And for this.” She lifted the sweet.
“You’re welcome, Penelope.”
He moved up the last step. She knew he was preparing to kiss her and she mentally scrambled for a way to avoid the awkward meeting.
“Goodnight, Barnaby,” she said and turned. “I really must take something for this upset stomach.”
“A soda always works wonders for me,” he said.
She quickly unlocked the door and went inside. “Thanks. That may be exactly what I need.”
Before he could offer to get one for her, she closed the door with a clap and then stood for long moments, listening for sounds that he was leaving. Realizing that he might be waiting to see that she was safe inside, she leaned over to switch on a lamp, and then peered through the curtains. He still stood where she’d left him.
She gave a little wave and then closed the door curtains again.
Finally, she heard the sound of his footfalls as he walked back to his car, and then the crank of his truck engine.
Penelope let out a long sigh, unaware that she’d been holding her breath.
She stepped toward the kitchen, flipping on lights as she went. It wasn’t fair, really. On paper, Barnaby Jones was the perfect man for her. Beyond being great looking and single, they’d attended the same schools, knew all the same people, and enjoyed doing the same things.
Maybe that was the problem: they were too well matched.
She put the elephant ear down on the counter, inwardly cursing her meddling grandmother and aunt.
Of course, Barnaby was worlds better than some of the other men they’d fixed her up with. There had been the divorced car mechanic who’d liked to flex his muscles for her expected enjoyment every five minutes. And the nerdy bank vice president who pushed his glasses up constantly and rarely met her gaze, and then grabbed onto her so tightly when she’d kissed him good-night that she’d been half afraid he wouldn’t let go. She’d nearly pushed him down the stairs just to get him to disconnect.
So on the date scale, Barnaby was the best match yet.
If only kissing him wasn’t like kissing her grandmother.
She made a face at the comparison and then realized that the house was too quiet. And it wasn’t just the absence of the two old biddies who had gotten her into her current mess either.
“Thor?” she called out.
No response. Which wasn’t all that unusual. If he was curled up sleepy somewhere, he’d likely stay exactly where he was.
She opened the pantry door and took out the bag of his favorite dog treats. Still no Thor.
That was odd. By now he would be panting at her feet.
She shook the bag. “Who’s been a good boy?” she called out in a lilting tone. “Who thinks they’re deserving of a goodie?” She shook the bag again.
Nothing.
Huh.
Then it dawned on her that she might have left him out back.
She unlocked the door and pulled it open. Nothing. She flicked on the back light.
“Thor?” she called into the night.
A single bark somewhere in the yard.
She grimaced and stepped onto the back porch. Please don’t let him have cornered another badger. Or, worse, another skunk. She’d bathed him three times, once in tomato juice, another in lemon juice, but nothing but time had seemed capable of ridding him of the god-awful stench. They’d kept him locked outside for two miserable days with him whining the whole night through.
“Thor, come here,” she ordered, giving an experimental sniff. Nothing but the fragrant scent of her rosebushes.
Another quiet bark.
Penelope navigated the stairs and walked up the pathway. She heard his panting before she saw him. Or, rather, saw his tail wagging where he sat inside the gazebo.
“What are you doing there?” she asked, coming up behind him.
He turned and licked her outstretched hand, then sniffed animatedly at the bag she still held.
“I have half a mind not to give you a treat because I don’t think you’ve been a very good boy.”
His tail was now little more than a blur as he picked up wagging speed and began doing his crouch and bark and run in circles treat-dance.
She laughed. “Oh, all right. Maybe just one.”
A shadow moved in the gazebo. “How about this bad boy?” a familiar voice asked. “Do you think he’s entitled to any treats?”
3
PALMER HADN’T EXPECTED her to return so soon. Had even feared she might not be alone when she did. But here she was,
