Dreaming of His Pen Pal's Kiss - Jessie Gussman Page 0,27
remembered Blakely, the pastor’s daughter he was supposed to be in the kissing contest with—but things had gone exactly the way Pastor Race had figured—who followed her a few steps behind.
He barely noticed Martin and Blakely embrace and didn’t even think to be happy for them, because his eyes were caught on the dark-haired woman who came to him with a smile.
“I think we met yesterday,” she said, her hand out.
“I think these were your kids yesterday, although today they seem to belong to someone else.” He nodded his head at Frank and Darcy who were leaning on the top rung of the fence and watching what looked like maybe goats.
“My parents foster them. And I guess we all help out.” She kind of leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “I kinda feel like God would like for me to adopt them. But I’ve been fighting it, because I think every child should have a mom and a dad. There’s no dad in the picture here.” Her voice held a little humor at the end, and he looked at her, blinking.
He’d never met a single woman who was interested in adopting. Not that there wasn’t such a thing, he just didn’t know any.
Mistletoe seemed like it was full of surprises.
“In case you’ve forgotten, my name’s Journee.” She held her hand out, and he grasped it, her hand feeling warm yet capable and somehow no-nonsense. It was the oddest sensation he’d ever gotten from shaking someone’s hand.
Journee leaned toward him again, her eyes sparkling and a little smile playing around her lips. “Do you mind if we sneak out? I’d like to leave my sister and her friend alone. I think there’s a romance budding there.”
Lots of matchmakers in Mistletoe, too. Maybe he shouldn’t stay. He already had someone he was interested in.
Journee grasped his arm, and he almost felt like a gentleman as they left the barn. Mistletoe was full of odd sensations. Considering his upbringing, he’d never felt like a gentleman before.
“I think the whole town is involved in the romance between Blakely and Martin. Your dad actually had me involved like five minutes after I met him for the first time.”
Journee laughed. “That’s my dad. I suppose he told you he used to be—”
“A heart surgeon. Yes. And now he works on—”
“Emotional hearts,” she finished for him.
He’d never met anyone who, within five minutes, was finishing his sentences for him, and him hers.
It was odd the way he felt an instant connection to this woman.
Not even attraction, although there was that, but feeling like he knew her.
It was weird, and he honestly wondered again if she could be The Healing Pen. But she looked so confused when he asked if she worked in the ER.
Plenty of people wore scrubs. Dental assistants, nurses in doctors’ offices, even any other nurse in the hospital.
He promised himself he wasn’t going to think about it anymore, so he pushed it out of his head, thinking that The Healing Pen had promised to write while he was gone. If this were her, he should be hearing about it.
“Do you mind if we go to the sheep barn? There’s an ewe with triplets, and I told Blakely that I would whisk you away.”
“Are you whisking me away because you want Martin and her to get together? Or is it because Blakely hates football players?”
To her credit, she bit her lip and looked at him. “Someone told you that?”
“Yes, but from the way Blakely’s been acting, I think I would have figured it out on my own regardless of what anyone said to me.”
She giggled a little. “Blakely doesn’t have a deceitful bone in her body. Whatever she’s feeling is right there on her sleeve for everybody to see.”
“And that’s not you?” Somehow, that made him a little bit sad, to think that she might be smiling even if she were sad.
A shoulder lifted, and her fingers twitched in the crook of his arm. He liked that connection. Oddly.
“She’s just big and wide and expressive. I guess I’ve always been more of a dreamer. I suppose I don’t pretend to feel things that I don’t, I just don’t feel them as big as she does. Does that make sense?”
“That’s something I can understand. On the team, there are guys who you never have to wonder what they’re feeling, because whatever they’re feeling is how they act and what they are. I don’t think any of us would say we’re in touch with our feelings.