“I have more important obligations,” he said softly.
I settled into stride beside him and laced my fingers with his. “Not this afternoon. Free and clear until supper, and we’ll make the most of it.”
His fingers flexed around mine, and I lifted our joined hands to kiss the back of his.
A little of his stiffness eased. Small progress, but it was a start.
“What do you think we should make for dessert?”
He shrugged. “Strawberries are in season. Maybe a tart?”
I tugged him closer so our shoulders brushed as we walked. “Sounds delicious.”
The trip into town was shorter than I expected, but the quiet around us was more companionable than tense. Penny brightened when we entered the market, clearly feeling more at home amidst the flurry of activity here than he was back on the farm.
He took over leading and tugged me toward the first stall that caught his eye. The woman behind the counter was haggling over the price of some fabric with another patron, so she paid us no mind as Penny ran the hem of a deep green shirt between his fingers.
I released his hand so I could tuck myself up against his back and wind my arms around his waist. He shivered when I pressed my lips to his neck. “I always liked that color on you,” I murmured against his skin.
His swallow was audible. “Yeah?”
“Mmhmm. Brings out your eyes.” I reached past him to turn the small paper price tag pinned to the shoulder. “Looks about your size. Might be a little big, but I like that look on you, too.”
Blush burned across his cheeks, and he fought against a smile as he turned to speak quietly enough that no one but me could hear. “Because that’s the way I look inyourshirts.”
“You’re not wrong.” My lips brushed the shell of his ear when he faced forward again, and I whispered, “But I prefer you in nothing at all.”
He barked a laugh and shoved at my arms so he could pull away. When he spun to face me, the red spread all the way to his ears, but his grin was blinding. I snagged my fingers in his shirt and pulled him back in so I could kiss his smiling lips.
“I’ve missed that sound,” I admitted. My fingers traced the curve of his mouth. “And I’ve missed this.”
Penny dropped his cheek against my offered palm and let out a sigh. “So have I. There’s just so much to do, and I?—”
“You’re not doing it alone.” I leaned in to press my forehead to his. “Let me help.”
The shopkeeper cleared her throat, and we split apart. She obviously recognized Penny, asking where he’d been and how the planting season was progressing. They spent several minutes catching up on gossip and the goings on in Eastcliff.
Their conversation wound down when another customer approached. I handed over coin for the shirt Penny had been admiring, tucked it into his satchel, and we made our way to the fruit vendor.
“If you want, I can get the strawberries while you get the strap you need for the harness.” I tugged on an errant lock of Penny’s hair. “Then we may be able to take some time for ourselves on our way home.”
He nodded, and I pulled him in for a parting kiss before he trotted a few stalls down to greet the tanner.
I picked through the fruit display, looking for the reddest strawberries and amassing much more than would be needed for the tart. That way there would be plenty for us to share on our way back, too.
Even here, far from the dangers of Ashpoint, I was so used to focusing on Penny’s voice amidst the market chatter that I perked up the moment he spoke in a less than conversational tone.
“Dawson?”
That name put me on high alert, and I sought Penny out in the crowd of milling townsfolk. He was still in front of the tanner’s stall, leather in one hand and coin in the other, staring up at a taller man with close cropped dark hair.
I could only see them in profile, but neither seemed upset, so I forced myself to carry on with my task. I traded some coin for a small crate to pile the strawberries in, then hung back to watch, ready to swoop in should Penny need me.
The dark-haired man grinned and dragged Penny in for an embrace. “Pen! It's been a while.”
Penny broke free and stepped back. “It has,” he agreed. “How’ve you been?”
“I've been better. Things with Celia...” Dawson shrugged. “It didn't work out.”
