Dreaming of His Pen Pal's Kiss - Jessie Gussman Page 0,20
his own circle and finding out that there were things in the world that he hadn’t experienced.
He could understand why men would stick with just one woman if they had a woman like The Healing Pen.
Had she ever said why she broke up with her high school sweetheart? He didn’t think she had, and he hadn’t asked.
When he wrote to her, he had too many things he wanted to say and none that were appropriate.
Young and pretty, with sparkling green eyes and dark, almost black hair, the woman who came out of the diner hardly looked old enough to be the children’s mother.
She looked up at him and gave him a smile that showcased a deep dimple in one cheek and made her eyes crinkle.
“Hey there. Welcome to Mistletoe,” she said, her voice husky and sweet with a thread of humor in it that tugged a little at his heart.
“Thanks. It’s a unique town from what I’ve seen so far,” he said, more words than he might normally have said to a stranger. Especially a woman.
He probably would have nodded his head and walked on by. Just because in his experience, women knew who he was and wanted to use him as the arm candy he had explained to The Healing Pen he used women for.
He had always wanted to do the choosing. He didn’t want to be chosen.
It wasn’t hard to shake that off, whether it was the town atmosphere, or whether it was the woman who walked by him.
“I hope you’re staying for the festival. It’s definitely unique, although Mistletoe does Christmas year-round.” The woman’s smile was friendly, and there was no glimmer of recognition in her eyes.
“Do you work in the ER?” he asked, unable to clamp his lips shut around the question.
The little boy was swinging her hand, and he could see there was no ring on it. It made him feel like the pull she had on him was okay, like the odds that she could be The Healing Pen weren’t crazy impossible.
Her brows drew together, and she seemed confused. Her mouth opened, but before she could say anything, a man’s voice said, “You have to be Dante.”
Dante glanced up, having been so focused on the woman he hadn’t realized there was a man behind her.
“I am.”
“I’m Pastor Race. And that’s my daughter, Journee, and two of my other children, Frank and Darcy.”
“Actually, I hadn’t gotten around to introducing myself to Journee,” Dante said, his eyes back on the woman who was smiling again. “It’s good to meet you, Journee.”
Maybe he just hadn’t gotten out enough lately.
He walked without a limp, and even though his leg gave him twinges of pain at times, it was probably as healed up as it was going to be.
He’d stepped up his workouts and had a Skype call scheduled with his trainer for later in the day.
“It’s good to meet you too, Dante. Maybe we’ll see each other around later,” the woman said as the children pulled her off, saying something about a pond and ducks, and she turned and allowed them to lead her down the sidewalk.
Of course, she wasn’t The Healing Pen. Although she could be a nurse. That’s what the scrubs said anyway. Or doctor. Or therapist.
The Healing Pen hadn’t said anything about her father being a pastor.
He turned back to Race and grabbed his hand, shaking it. “Thank you so much for meeting with me. Coach Samuels has the highest respect for you, and he seemed to think the trip to Mistletoe was just what I needed.”
“Sometimes, getting out and getting a new perspective is helpful. Your coach talks very highly about you and your work ethic and your ability to inspire the men under you to work to their fullest potential,” Pastor Race said as he led the way into the diner and chose a corner booth.
At this time in the afternoon, it was pretty quiet.
“Those are high words of praise coming from Coach Samuels,” Dante said, and he meant it. Coach didn’t use a lot of lavish praise, so the words he did say carried a lot of weight.
The compliment squeezed up his neck and made him feel good.
“Coach had some good words of praise for you, too. He said I could learn a lot from you. And I think he knew I needed to get out before camp started.”
“I agree. Coach Samuels has been in it for a lot of years. He understands his players.”
“That’s true.”
“How has the pen pal thing been