“I wouldn’t call it a story around anyone from Bells Pass,” she said, putting air quotes around the word story. “Here, it’sgospel. Ivy and Audrey conspire every year to see if they can figure out who the couple will be.”
“Who was last year's?” I asked, happy to be sitting with her and talking about anything and everything because I enjoyed her company so much.
“Last year, it was our librarian who reconnected with her high school sweetheart after he moved back to Bells Pass. Two years ago, it was Honor and Dawson. They’re the ones who wrote the bicentennial book for the gazebo.”
“How cool,” I said, not able to hide my smile.
“Especially since those two were oil and water from the day Dawson started working at the school. I love how the gazebo doesn’t care about any of that. When the right couple is under its roof, it just knows.”
“Have you spent any time under its roof?” I asked, my attention focused on her as she fumbled to cover the cake container.
“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Too busy for love, right? I’m sure you understand, being a doctor and everything.”
I shrugged, letting the silence linger between us. “I still have time for love, not that I’ve dated anyone in a long time, but that’s not from lack of time or desire, and more from inability to find someone I connect with. I’ve spent enough years of my life alone. I want to find someone to share it with before I’m too old to enjoy it.”
“Definitely. You’re practically an old man,” she said, tongue in cheek, and I shoulder bumped her.
“I just turned thirty-nine, so I'm not ready for the nursing home yet. How old are you?”
Her brow dipped as she met my gaze. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to ask a woman her age?”
“Yes, but she also told me it only matters if their hair is white.”
Her snort of laughter made me smile, but her answer surprised me. “I turned thirty last week.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? Happy birthday,” I said, putting my arm around her and squeezing gently.
“There wasn’t much to celebrate,” she said with enough honesty that it broke my heart a little bit. “Just another day.”
I stood and held my hand out to her. With a lowered brow, she took it, and I pulled her to stand. “You’re wrong about that, so I think you should let me take you out to dinner to celebrate.”
With her hand still in mine, I turned and led her down the path while she sputtered about, likely looking for an excuse to say no. “That’s not necessary,” she said, shaking her head. “Nice of you, but not necessary. The day has come and gone now.”
“There’s this thing called a belated birthday. Ever heard of it?”
This time, she full-on laughed, and the sound rang through the park in a way that shot a sensation through my chest that I hadn’t felt in too long. Eight years and a few months weren’t too many to overcome, right? I didn’t think so, but her family might, so I’d better proceed with caution.
“I have heard of that, and while I’ve enjoyed our dinners at the diner, I don’t want to give people the wrong idea about us.”
“What idea is that?” I asked, holding tight to her hand lest she think she could pull her soft, warm one from mine.
“That we’re dating,” she whispered. “You gotta understand, Bells Pass isn’t like the big city. Here, if you’re seen together more than twice, the rumor mill fires up, and it’s all so and so and so and so sitting in a tree.”
“Or under the gazebo’s roof,” I said with a wink to her gusty sigh. “I get it, but I’m new here, so for at least the next month, you can tell people you’re welcoming me to the town by being my friend. You can explain that I can’t cook, so you’re introducing me to all the great places to eat.”
“You have an argument for everything, Major.”
“Champion of the debate team right here,” I said, poking myself in the chest. “So, are we on? I’m off Saturday night. You pick the place.”
“Fine,” she said with a chuckle. “We’ll go to dinner on Saturday night, but not at the diner. If someone sees us there together too many more times—”
“We’ll be K I S S I N G?” I asked, to which she gave me another bombastic side-eye. “Not that I would mind that, but probably not in a tree. We might fall out.”
“Major,” she said as we arrived back at the truck. Once she unlocked it, I opened the driver’s door for her. “We can go to dinner, but we can’t date.”
Rather than answer, I shut the door and walked around the passenger side. Once in, I turned to her. “Because?”
“You’re a doctor. You’re older than I am.”
