Third Time's the Charm

by Liz Talley

  That afternoon he’d mowed the grass around the pond and then rented a piece of dance floor from Little Bird Productions, which belonged to a nearby event planner. He’d commandeered a bistro table from his parents’ storage unit and bought an iron trellis he could use outside his house when the garden was completed. A battery and some lights woven throughout made the perfect backdrop. He’d added a few mosquito-repellent candles on each corner. A white tablecloth, a Yeti cooler filled with cheeses, shrimp salad, and petit fours would complement the chilled prosecco nicely. The weather had played nice, giving them a clear night, a full moon, and a gentle breeze.

  “Wait, is this the place we used to go?” Sunny looked around as he approached the gated entrance. “Oh my goodness, Henry. You’re trying to get lucky.” She jabbed a finger at him and gave him an affected frown before laughing.

  “Well, I’m not opposed, but this isn’t me trying to fling up your skirt, sugar. I just remembered how much you loved sneaking out here to fish or skip stones.”

  “And one time it was our dream,” she murmured. “Oh, there’s a gate. Someone bought it.”

  “Don’t worry. I made sure it was okay with the owner.”

  Yep. It was okay with him.

  He turned into the graveled drive and headed down the dirt road where the trees arched before bowing like liveried footmen lining up to greet their master. Stars peeked through the branches, making the darkening twilight somehow magical. Eventually he passed the drive to the barn and pulled up to the pond.

  Sunny hadn’t spoken. The only sound was Fergie singing about her lumps. Her lovely lady lumps. But Fergie had nothing on Sunny even if the woman next to him wasn’t quite as curvy as she used to be.

  “Wait here,” he said, killing the engine and climbing out. He hurried over to the setting for the date and turned on the lights, then lit the candles. Then he synced his phone to the Bluetooth speaker. Soft jazz set the mood. Everything looked perfect.

  When he returned to the truck, Sunny had already climbed out. She stood in the light of the cab, the door chime dinging like mad, looking stunned.

  “How did you do this?” she asked, her gaze on the table sitting beside the pond where they’d once had a rock-skipping contest. “Henry, this is incredible.”

  “Come on,” he said, taking her hand and closing the door.

  She followed him, stepping gingerly around the uneven pieces of land. Once they reached the parquet flooring, she slipped her shoes off and rubbed her arms.

  “I figured it was warm enough to have a nighttime picnic. If you feel chilly, I brought a few throws.”

  “No, I’m fine.” She turned toward him, her blue eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe you did all this. It’s… No one has ever done anything like this for me.”

  “Well, he should have.” He drew her to him and dropped a soft kiss onto her forehead. He wanted to do more but didn’t want to move fast. Instead, he stepped away and started pulling the cheese board from the cooler he’d stowed beneath the table. The bubbly had been chilling in the wine bucket. When he’d popped the cork and filled their glasses, he turned back toward her. “Here.”

  She took the glass. “Champagne?”

  “Prosecco,” he said, clinking their glasses. “To first dates.”

  “You’re funny,” she said with a smile before lifting the glass to her perfect lips and sipping.

  “Well, it’s the first date in a way. We’re adults and it’s sort of a fresh start. I think.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” She stared at the bubbles rising to the top of her glass. “I’m not even sure what we’re doing or if we should do it. Feels scary.”

  “Nothing wrong with being scared. What’s that saying? If you’re not scared, you’re not alive. Or something. I’m sure it’s revolutionary in thought.”

  “I’ve always heard that if you’re scared, run.” As she said the words, her brow furrowed. “But maybe I’m done with running. I don’t know. Things are about as clear as mud.”

  He sat for a moment, staring out into the darkness falling around them. “Remember when we were in high school and we had that book?”

  “The dream book?” she asked, taking another sip of the prosecco.

  “Yeah. The dream book. We planned everything—college dorm room bedding, wedding dress, our house, our kids’ names, all the things we loved and wanted. You would cut out pictures and paste them inside, and we’d talk about every aspect of our future lives.”

  Sunny shook her head. “We were just stupid kids.”

  “Yeah, but we were planners. Maybe we shouldn’t do that this time around.”

  “What? Plan?”

  “Yeah, like you said before. Let’s just let things happen. We don’t have to decide anything. No parameters, no rules, no expectations. Let’s just enjoy”—he lifted his glass—“the wine, the moonlight, and the fact these mosquito-repellant candles are actually working.”

  Sunny smiled. “That sounds like a plan… or maybe I should say not a plan?”

  He snorted.

  She held out her glass. “To no plans, rules, or expectations even though it totally goes against every fiber of my being.”

  “To challenging your need to plan.” He clinked his glass to hers, sensing that his words had given her relief. He could feel her relaxing as she sipped the bubbly.

  For the next thirty minutes, they ate and talked about old friends and memories. Henry couldn’t deny how lovely she looked in the flickering candlelight and the glow of the large-bulb string lights. The night felt soft around them, only a faint hint of the cool front that had come in unexpectedly. Katydids chirruped a chorus that begged the frogs to join in as accompaniment to the saxophone and piano coming from the Bluetooth speaker.

  Eventually Henry stood and opened the plastic container he’d stowed behind the large oak tree sprawling beside them. He withdrew a quilt and a few floor pillows he’d swiped from his house. The kids liked to use them to watch TV on, so he’d spot-cleaned them and used deodorizing spray to make them smell like a meadow rather than Cheetos, and oddly enough, pancake syrup. “How about we relax on this and have our dessert?”

  “That looks like seduction,” Sunny said as he slid his chair aside and spread out the thick quilt.

  “Well, it’s more comfortable than this tiny chair,” he said, rocking the wooden chair so that it squeaked and threatened to come apart. “I won’t touch you… unless you want me to.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Okay.”

  They moved to the quilt and he handed her a throw. He’d bought new ones because the ones on his sofa had some funky fruit-punch stain thanks to Katie Clare not following the no eating or drinking in the living area rule. Sunny wrapped the fuzzy blanket around her shoulders, effectively covering the creamy expanse of skin he’d been staring at when he wasn’t admiring her lips. Or her eyes. Or her pretty toes.

  He handed her a strawberry and nearly died a thousand deaths as she bit into it, a little bead of juice clinging errantly to her lip. In order to keep his hands off her, he leaned back onto one of the cushions and folded his hands beneath his head, studying a sky that had lost its stars. Or rather was covered by a sudden cloud.

  “These are delicious. I haven’t had chocolate-covered strawberries in forever. Aren’t you going to eat some?” she asked, nudging him with her toes.

  “Of course. You know I love them. Hand me one.” He held out a hand.

  “Uh-oh, I just felt a raindrop.”

  Right as she finished that declaration, a drop plinked onto his forehead. “Aw, hell. Are you kidding me? The forecast said only a ten percent chance of rain.” Henry scrambled to sit up just as a few more drops plopped onto his shoulders.

  “Guess we’re in the ten percent range,” Sunny said, hopping to her feet. She started gathering up the remnants of their dinner, shoving everything into the cooler.

  He set the opened strawberries and unopened petit fours inside beside the wine and grabbed the speaker. Scoop
ing up the blankets, he ran to the truck as the rain intensified. He shoved everything into the truck bed, thankful for the cover he’d put on a few months ago, and went back to help Sunny, who had shouldered the cooler strap and grabbed the shoes she’d abandoned. Henry shut off the battery and took her elbow. The heavens opened as they dashed back to his truck, shoving the things they carried on the back seat floorboard.

  When they climbed inside, he cranked the engine and switched on the seat heaters, handing her the clean hand towel he kept in the door pocket. Sunny wiped her arms and face, shaking her hair out. He took the towel and mopped off his head, then shoved the towel back into the pocket. Rain beat a concert on the windshield, and he saw the citronella candles fall victim to the raindrops one by one. “Well, so much for a romantic night. Sorry you got wet.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, rubbing her shoulders with her hands. “What about the table and chairs and that floor?”

  He switched on the dashboard heater in order to chase away the gooseflesh prickling her arms. “Guess we won’t be dancing on it tonight. Surely the floor won’t get ruined.”

  “We can wait it out and try to dry it with the quilt. Then you could load it into the back of your truck.”

  The rain beat steadily against the truck, creating a nice intimacy. “I hate this stupid rain ruined everything. I had some junior-senior prom music cued up for a little slow dancing.”

  “You really thought this date out.” She dropped her hands from her arms as heat flowed from the vents. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or concerned. This took a lot of effort.”

  “You should be flattered. I wouldn’t do this for just anybody.” He gave her his best crooked, flirty grin. Maybe his eyes even twinkled, but he wasn’t sure. How did one make one’s eyes twinkle anyway?

  “Then I’ll be flattered. And I’m not good at dancing if you remember that time at the Jackson Country Club. I stepped on your feet so much you had sore feet. Besides, making out in a truck with the rain pitter-pattering against the windows sounds like a good way to end a date. I mean, that’s probably better than dancing.”

  He glanced over at her. “Oh, that’s way better than dancing.”

  “But what about this?” she asked patting the huge center console. “You didn’t have this in your old truck.”

  He glanced toward the back seat. “We could climb back there.”

  She gave a shrug and then hiked up her dress, turned, and clambered over the console. “Ouch.”

  “What?” he said, watching as she gracelessly plonked onto the bench seat and then promptly banged her elbow on the back seat passenger door.

  “I hit my head.” She rubbed the top of her head and then her elbow. “And my elbow.”

  He glanced outside where it was still pouring and then back at the narrow space he’d have to squeeze through. “Okay, make room for me.”

  It was an awkward fit, and his belt buckle got hung on the inset change container. His boots slipped on the front mats, making him lose his balance and bang his ribs on the console. Still he persisted, sliding toward her, his face bumping her midsection. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled. Like the cork from the prosecco, he popped loose and tumbled her backward, knocking her head on the window.

  “Ouch again,” she said, her hand flying up, making one breast pop out of her stretchy top. “Oh Lord, have mercy!”

  She covered her breast with her hand, her eyes wide. Then she started laughing.

  Which made him laugh. “Sure seemed easier when we were teenagers.”

  “Right?” she said, tugging her bodice up, her laughter trickling away as he grabbed her hips, tugging her down so she was sprawled on the bench seat. Then he lifted himself so he could cover her body with his. He kept one hand on the floorboard so she wouldn’t have to support his whole weight.

  Henry looked down at her. “I’m sorry I made you hit your head. I could kiss it better.”

  Sunny caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her gaze deepening. The old electrical buzz between them was back, and all he could think about was feeling her body against his, capturing her sweet lips, and losing himself for a few minutes.

  “You could,” she breathed, lifting a hand to smooth his hair into place. “Or you could just kiss my lips. I think that would make it better.”

  “I think you’re right, but I have to ask—are you good with this?”

  “You said the ball was in my court, right? That we wouldn’t think or plan so much, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So shut up and kiss me already,” she said, pulling him down to her.

  Henry wasn’t going to ask twice—he’d already showed admirable restraint when it came to Sunny. He wanted to put his hands on her all the time, kiss the daylights out of her, strip her clothes away and do things to her that would make a whore blush.

  But he could settle for making out with her in the back seat of his truck.

  She tasted as sweet as the strawberry she’d bitten into earlier. Kissing her was like falling into heaven, and he became hyperaware of everything about her—the way she smelled, the throaty purring, the deliciousness of her soft curves against all his hard parts. Some parts harder than others.

  For a beautiful few minutes, he reveled in just kissing this woman.

  One of Sunny’s hands twined in his hair, her fingernails scraping enough to bring chill bumps. She used her other hand to stroke his back, then slid it down to his ass and back up again. His body seemed to have one mission—invade, conquer, force a surrender.

  Henry shifted to take some of his weight off her and nearly fell off the bench seat.

  “Whoops,” he muttered, trying to right himself but overshooting and instead drawing a woof of air from Sunny when he slipped and fell hard on her. His foot landed on the cooler and got tangled in the blanket.

  Having enough of trying to fit on the back seat, he pulled her up and sat beside her, adjusting his jeans against the erection that demanded he figure something out. “This isn’t working. I have a nice soft bed at my house that, if I remember correctly, fits both of us easily.”

  Sunny pushed her hair behind her ears. “I thought making out in your truck would be fun, but I just wanted to make out. Not, um, you know. What happened in your bed last time was about our past. This is a new beginning, and I’m not ready to… I mean, I know this is confusing for you.”

  “A bit,” he admitted.

  “I don’t mean it to be, Henry. I’m not being a tease or anything. It’s just that I liked the idea of going slow and starting over.”

  Damn it. He needed to—

  “You’ve been so cool about giving me space to heal and find my footing. I know it’s frustrating for you, but I appreciate your patience with me. I’ve needed someone to care about me in that way. You have no idea how uncared about I’ve felt over the past months.”

  Damn it. How could he press anything more when she said things like that? Yeah, he was a man and he wanted to take her back to his place and make love to her until the sun came up, but he wouldn’t. Because she wasn’t ready. Because she’d lost her husband and her babies. Because she didn’t know where she was headed or how she’d get there. “Well, I told you that you were in control.”

  “You did.”

  “So… you want to go back to my place for a drink or coffee? And I mean that in a literal sense.”

  She smiled. “Too much temptation with that bed upstairs, so how about we go into town and get a drink? Instead of the Lazy Frog, we can go to Sal’s. More adult.”

  The sigh he’d held in slipped out.

  Her brow crinkled. “Or not?”

  “Nope. I think that sounds perfect. The rain has let up. Let me grab the stuff out there and then we’ll roll.”

  “I’m sorry, Henry.”

  Her blue eyes were soft, and he could see she truly meant it. He didn’t quite understand what they were doing, but he’d told her he would let her decide how far they went. He could control his bo
dy, but he damned well couldn’t control his feelings.

  “It’s okay, Sunny. I’m not pressuring you into going where you’re not ready to go.” With that, he climbed from the truck and walked back to the place where they’d picnicked. Everything was soaked. He’d have to let some of it stay and dry out. He tilted the floor up against the oak tree and pulled the soaked tablecloth from the table, balling it up. He caught a glimpse of Sunny watching him from the cab, regret plainly etched on her features.

  Why was she holding herself back? Because she thought he would hurt her again? Didn’t she know how much he regretted their past and the mistake he’d made? Didn’t she know he’d do anything to make her happy? That he’d always loved her and probably always would?

  No, she didn’t know all those things.

  She wasn’t ready to hear them.

  And in all honesty, he wasn’t ready to tell her.

  Sunny had wanted to go to Henry’s place and have crazy, wild sex, but she wouldn’t let herself. She’d meant what she said after they’d had the healing closure sex weeks ago—she needed time before she climbed back into an intimate relationship. And so even though her body ached to have Henry inside her, she wasn’t going to rush into anything.

  The time you have in Morning Glory is slipping away.

  She volleyed the thought away as they stepped onto the sidewalk in front of Sal’s New York Pizzeria. The striped awning lent authenticity to the bank-turned-Italian-eatery, and the old-fashioned script on the large plate-glass windows set the tone for the experience diners would get upon entering. “Looks crowded.”

  “It’s been like this since he opened. The food is just so good. People come from surrounding towns. The Jackson paper did a feature on it, so we even get people from the city.”

  “Good for him and Rosemary. It’s odd how much he seems to like Morning Glory,” she said, stepping inside when he opened the door for her.

  “Weird, huh? Sal grew up in Manhattan but swears he always yearned for crickets chirping and big front porches. He’s enamored of small-town life… even when neighbors broadcast his business from one side of town to the other. Last week it was a rumored pregnancy test.”