Dreaming of His Pen Pal's Kiss - Jessie Gussman Page 0,31
led to the main street of town.
“It is. People have started to depend on the Christmas tourism to make enough money to stay solvent throughout the year. It’s a curse and a blessing.”
“I think I see that. Extra money means extra people, and sometimes, extra people means all the problems that come with people.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, I’m free for the rest of the day. Maybe your mom can put me to work too.”
“You might regret saying that, because I can guarantee you she will.” Journee smiled up at him, and he looked down, wonder swelling his heart.
How could he be happy like this, in a small town, with a simple girl beside him, heading off to help with a festival?
A rhetorical question, he supposed. Because it just demonstrated all the changes that had been happening in him since the accident. It was hard to deny that the Lord was most definitely working in his life.
Still, there was a tug of unease. While he was pretty sure his feelings for Journee were friend only, and he had no idea if there would ever be anything between The Healing Pen and him, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed.
He felt a tug for both women; he had thought he’d left the multiple dating scene behind.
Maybe he was too engrossed in his thoughts, or maybe it would have happened anyway, but they’d barely taken three steps when a dog, his leash dragging, followed not so closely by a boy screaming, “Rusty! Come back here, Rusty!” charged directly toward them.
Everything would have been just fine, since the dog ran by with no problems, but the leash got tangled up in Journee’s legs, and she stumbled, bumping into him, which caused him to step into the boy’s path, and somehow, his foot got caught in the leash, or maybe it was the dog yanking Journee that hit his foot at the same time, but whatever it was, the dog, the boy, Journee, and he all ended up on the ground together.
Journee and the boy were both immediately working on getting the dog’s leash untangled, but he didn’t move for a few moments, because Journee’s shoulder bag had come loose, and the notebook inside had fallen out, landing right beside his head, open.
He didn’t need to see the salutation—Dear Computer Geek—to recognize the handwriting that he’d looked forward to receiving for the last five months.
Journee was The Healing Pen.
Chapter 12
Dear Computer Geek,
I guess we never talked about where you live, but I always assumed you were not from a small town.
So let me explain a small-town festival to you.
It’s crazy.
That’s pretty much all you need to know.
Expect to see things you’ve never seen before.
I’m not talking about like wonders of the world. There’s nothing like an Egyptian pyramid in in my town.
Of course not.
But I suppose every town has things that make it unique, and they capitalize on those things.
Mistletoe, of course, is Christmas.
And so Christmas in July capitalizes on everything that makes Mistletoe different from every other town in America.
That, and we have some pretty crazy people here too.
Take the pie-throwing contest.
Mistletoe takes the losers from all of the contests that they have, and I know it’s not politically correct to say losers, but we do here in Mistletoe. Anyway, we take the losers, and we throw pies at them.
Like I said, not politically correct. But definitely unique.
Because I know this is going to be a question, I’m going to answer it right now: yes, I have most definitely been the object of Mistletoe’s pie-throwing contest.
I bet you have no idea how hard it is to get whipped cream out of your ear.
And no, I have no idea how, when someone throws a pie at your face, you get whipped cream in your ear.
Just trust me on this. It happens.
I hope your trip is going well.
Enjoying the festival,
The Healing Pen
“YOU AND DANTE SEEMED to be having a good time yesterday.” Burgundy, Journee’s friend who’d recently married and was settled happily outside of Mistletoe, studied her fingernails as she spoke casually. She looked up with a little grin and a twinkle in her eye. “In fact, you seem to be having a very good time.”
Journee smiled a little. She wasn’t afraid to admit it. “He was nice. And funny.”
“You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I guess I have a stereotype in my head of football players. I suppose because of Blakely or maybe just because of living in cattle country and growing up watching rodeos.”
“Wow. So judgmental.”
“I know. But