Smitten Book Club (14 page)

His words, the warm way he said them, melted her heart. She was so desperate to believe in him that it automatically sent her guard up.

“It’s just you’ve been around the library for so long. Why now?”

He chuckled. “Abby, I’ve been trying to get to know you for the past year. I’ve read dozens of books just to have something to say to you. I’ve read Jane Austen for you! I’ve tried to talk to you countless times at church . . . and at work. You think I want to digitize the library? I couldn’t care less if
Smitten’s library is fully computerized. I’m just drawn to you. When I’m near you, I feel calm and contented.”

She swallowed hard and glanced around her—to see if there was a camera pointed at her. Or if her friends were going to pop out of the back room telling her they’d made a video for YouTube. To hear him say the words she wanted to hear seemed too good to be true, and as was her inclination, she waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Why is that so hard for you to believe . . . that I want to get to know you?”

Had he looked at himself lately? Had he seen how the women at church gathered around him like moths to the gaslights? His confident nature, his expression-filled eyes, and his easy warmth all weighed against his being the authentic man her father had been. “I’m a librarian. You’re an adrenaline junkie who probably belongs on
The Bachelor
—is it really that hard to wonder why this is uncomfortable?”

He shifted in his seat. “We are different, but what if you looked at it like this? You showed me the benefits of Jane Austen. I, in turn, can offer you more adventure in your life. Isn’t that a fair trade?” He leaned into the table, and the way he gazed at her with his intense dark eyes made her squirm. Mostly because she was tempted to kiss those lips as they came close to her. The thought surprised and annoyed her.

She cleared her throat to break her gaze. “You really want credit for reading Austen, don’t you?”

“If you jumped out of an airplane, wouldn’t you want credit for it?”

“I’m not going to jump out of an airplane, so I suppose it wouldn’t matter.”

“I haven’t exactly been honest with you,” Wyatt said.

Finally, she’d hear the truth behind his sudden interest.

“
Honest
is the wrong word,” he continued. “I haven’t been forthright with you. Like I said, I wanted this to come naturally, but maybe we’re too different for that. There is another reason I asked you here. It isn’t the whole reason, but it’s a part of it.”

She’d known it all along. Men like Wyatt Tanner didn’t offer such attentions without expecting something in return.

“Your father asked me for a favor before he passed.” Wyatt stared off in the distance, and his square jaw tightened.

Abby’s shoulders drooped. She didn’t want to hear the truth. Basking in the warm glow of Wyatt’s honeyed words had made her forget for a moment that she was a librarian whose only excitement was lived in books.

She nodded slowly while her eyes rested on his rugged hands. “I see. Well, consider your promise kept. You gave the librarian some attention.”

He shook his head. “No, no, you don’t understand. I should have done this a year ago, but I didn’t think you were ready, and I didn’t want to make your grieving that much worse. But I promised your father.”

She sipped her tea and swirled the foam in her cup rather than meet those dark, expectant eyes again. “You can’t be held responsible for a promise you can’t keep.”

“Your father was frantic about you before he passed. He thought you’d become a shadow of yourself, taking care of him and your mother. He said he’d always felt guilty they’d adopted you at such a late age. He thought that held you back in life—made you afraid to take risks.”

“My parents never held me back. They were—correction—they
are
the best, most loving people anyone could be fortunate enough to know.”

“I agree,” he said as he stared into his empty cup. Then Wyatt glanced up at her, his chocolate eyes melting with warmth. Whatever he was trying to say, it didn’t speak nearly as loudly as his intense gaze. He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out an envelope and placed it in the center of the table.

Tears welled up in her eyes at the sight of Wyatt’s name in the familiar, oversized script of her father’s handwriting. It seemed like a part of her father had come back to her.

Wyatt looked at her. “Read it.”

Her dad was a gentle soul. He was sensitive, but tough as nails. Easygoing, but volatile when someone did wrong against his family. Mostly, he was Abby’s warrior. A man she knew she could count on, come famine or high water.

Her heart pounded. Why would her father trust a man like Wyatt Tanner with his last secret? Wyatt was everything he’d ever warned her about: a risk taker, a man who worked when he felt like it, and worst of all, an absolute chick magnet.

“My father never even mentioned you,” she said.

“Maybe he didn’t talk about me at home, but he spoke of you often to me. I can’t help but see you through his light.”

When a gentleman expresses himself to a woman, he must do so with absolute sincerity.

P
EARL
C
HAMBERS
,
The Gentlewoman’s Guide to Love and Courtship

CHAPTER FIVE

W
yatt stood abruptly and tucked the letter back into his inside jacket pocket. He reached out for Abby’s hand, which she offered tentatively. The memory of how well her tiny hand fit into his resonated in his soul. “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

He felt the fear in her eyes to his soul.

“I owe you an explanation.” He shouted to the owner, “Natalie, I’d like to take Abby for a ride to show her something. Will you vouch for me?”

“Abby, I’d trust Wyatt with my daughter,” Natalie shouted from across the room.

Abby collected her handbag. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You said I made you nervous.” His mind reeled with how awkward he’d made this for her. He exited hastily, and she followed him out of the coffee shop. They turned north
on Main Street. He led her to his SUV, which was parked along the curb, unlocked the door, and opened it for her. “My lady.”

“We’re going in your car?” She paused on the sidewalk as if he were driving some kind of windowless white van.

“I think that will help me describe the contents of the letter better. A visual aid, if you will.”

She stepped up into his SUV, and he startled at the sight of her there. How natural she looked inside his truck, as if she belonged there beside him. His eyes lingered on the big, black shoes she wore, and he wondered why such a tiny sprite of a woman wanted to dress like a dowager. Was there safety in her get-up? Did she think it would throw men off of her stunning brown eyes that melted him like warmed honey?

Once on their way, Abby looked out the window, and he struggled for a way to make the time less awkward.

They headed toward Sugarcreek Mountain, which in the summer season was used for mountain bike riding and other seasonal activities. As the town grew farther in the distance, she finally spoke. “Will I be back in time for work?”

“I promise,” he said.

He passed the Sugarcreek Ski Resort parking lot, and he watched her reaction. She rarely spoke, but he knew there was so much going on inside that pretty little head of hers. He wanted to be the man she shared her secrets with, the one who knew what ran beneath those still waters.

They came to the green river valley beyond the ski lodge, and he pulled off the road onto the gravel shoulder. He hopped out of the truck, rushed around to the passenger door, and opened it for her. He lifted his hand to her and helped her
down, resisting the urge to grasp her waist to do so. “The gravel is loose here. Why don’t you take my hand?”

“I have my walking shoes on,” she said.

“Do it for me.” His arm tingled with electricity as he enveloped her hand. Her gaze rose up to meet his and held. She clasped his hand and time stopped. A sense of satisfaction filled him. He walked her to the lower path, gripping her tighter so she wouldn’t slip on the gravel. He pointed to the sky. “Do you see that?”

She shielded her eyes and looked up. He whisked out his sunglasses from his pocket and handed them to her. “Here,” he said.

She unfolded the glasses and put them on. “Is that a hang glider?”

He nodded.

“Who would do that? Latch themselves to a human-sized kite and trust the wind to carry them?”

“I’m hoping that you will.”

She pulled the aviators off and thrust them toward him. “Then you’ve got a lot more faith in me than I do. I’m ready to get back to town now, but I appreciate the personalized tour.”

“Wait a minute!” He grasped her hand as she turned to leave. “This isn’t some random tour of outer Smitten, Abby. It has to do with your father’s letter.”

She ignored his comment. “Have you done that before?” she asked, pointing at the sky.

“Hang glide? I do it all the time. I help your friend Molly out when she’s got too many tourists. It’s one of the hobbies I’m developing software for, so that people can practice the controls before they get out on the hill.”

“Isn’t that like the landing-the-plane app? I mean, it’s not really worth anything in the real world, is it?”

He was taken aback. “Actually, it’s very effective. It teaches people how to work the controls to deal with different situations that might come up so that it’s more instinctive when you get the actual controls in your hands. It’s like training your brain to react correctly in times of crisis. That’s how I started working on the app for vertigo. After Casey told me about your mother.”

Abby’s brow lifted and she changed the subject. “This is crazy.” She arched her neck and looked to the sky. “You realize I’m not going to fly on a kite.”

“It will be tandem. I’ll have all the controls. All you have to do is enjoy the rush and the view.”

The sharp winds danced and blew her hair, freeing some of it from the tight bun that she always wore. Even though she had on giant granny shoes and a skirt that seemed two sizes too big for her, she couldn’t hide her curvy figure or the brightness that lit her eyes from within. Her joyful spirit, in its quiet, reserved manner, had captivated him from the very first time he laid eyes upon her. He’d done his level best to garner an invitation from her dad to meet her, but Mr. Gray never made the offer. He’d wondered if her father disapproved of him.

Maybe that’s why he’d never pressed too hard . . . the fear of rejection was too great.

“I’m not an adventure tourist by any means,” Abby said. “I do plan to visit Hawaii someday. It’s been my dream. But getting airborne on a kite, not so much.”

“Hawaii. Really?” Wyatt asked. The thought of Abby in paradise sent shivers down his spine. He wanted to take Abby
to Hawaii. The very thought of another man seeing her in a swimsuit and flip-flops instead of those giant shoes made him raw with jealousy.

“I hope so. The girls and I have talked about it. We read a book set there once, and I think it stirred all of our imaginations to think of a world without Vermont winters.”

He took solace in hearing her speak so easily. For the moment he didn’t fear her jumping in the truck and taking off, leaving him alone at the windy fields.

“Why would anyone do that?” she asked. “Jump off a mountain and risk life and limb just for an adrenaline rush? God only gives you one life. Why play with it?”

Wyatt smiled down at her. He took a loose tendril of her hair and pushed it behind her ear. She reached for it, but didn’t make any motion to step away from him.

“I mean, that’s crazy. One gust of wind and you’re dead. Who wants to go that way?” She gazed at the couple hovering overhead.

“They’re not going anywhere, trust me. They’re having the thrill of what it’s like to have wings. They’re flying.”

“That’s not flying. That’s falling with brakes. Brakes that can easily fail.”

He laughed. “Not all of us can be Buzz Lightyear. I assure you, it makes you feel absolutely alive—and when you land, you will still be absolutely alive. And you don’t jump off a mountain. You see that glider plane in front of them? That’s called a tug. It lifts you up.”

“It lifts
you
up. I’m staying put with my feet on the ground. There are other adventures to be had that don’t involve testing gravity. Is that why you brought me out here? To prove to
me that I’m unworthy of a Captain Wentworth and his sense of adventure?”

“On the contrary. I brought you out here to prove the opposite.” Wyatt pulled the envelope out and handed it to her. “Read it,” he said.

She touched the script under her fingers, and a pool of tears formed in her eyes.

Abby turned so her back was against the wind. As she pulled out the contents of the envelope, he watched the tickets flutter to the ground. He swooped them up and gripped them while she read the letter. Her eyes devoured the words, which he now knew by heart.

Here are the tickets I promised. Abby will take warming up to the idea. Please let her know it’s for me. It’s for her own good, and once she’s broken out, it will offer me peace of mind. I need to know that she will not sacrifice her dreams to her duties.

God bless you.

Matthias Gray

“I hardly see how my dreams and hang gliding are related. Did you forge this?” But it was her father’s writing, and her father always had a reason for anything he did. “My father knows that I couldn’t even drive a stick shift. Do you expect me to believe he’d put me behind the controls of a flying machine?”

She knew it was exactly what her father meant. That was the problem.

Wyatt clasped the letter from her. “Your father wanted you to have adventures. He worried that having older parents stole
that from you, and he knew he didn’t have the time left to offer it to you. He asked, and I considered the idea a privilege.”