“How many parades are you attending?” My laugh is quick and shimmery, and Penn smirks around the straw between his teeth.
He’s so brazenly satisfied every time he gets me to smile. In real life, where all our exchanges feel like competitive matches, I’ve taken his delight as arrogance. But here, tonight, with color in his cheeks and warmth in every word, I think Penn’s just genuinely glad I’m enjoying myself. I am, too.
I tip back my wine, a dry pinot grigio. “How was Mrs. Baker today?”
Penn dropped off her groceries and prescriptions after his Curly’s shift. Usually he helps her on Thursdays, but after our chaotic morning at the senior center, he had to postpone.
“I worry about her. She’s lonely.”
“Maybe you should set her up with Earl.”
“Nah.” Penn grins. “Earl’s a one-woman kind of guy. He found The One, and I don’t think he’ll ever bother with anything else.”
“You believe in all that? The One?”
His gaze drops. “I don’t really know, but…” He meets my eyes and nods. “Yeah. Maybe I do.”
I flash him a teasing grin. “Wow. How unexpectedly romantic of you.”
“Why ‘unexpected’?”
“You said you don’t do anything serious.”
“I don’t,” Penn says. “Not with just anyone.”
He holds my stare, and my face heats, and the obvious follow-up question sits like a hot-pink elephant between us. I don’t ask it, though. I don’t need to, because I already know I’m notjust anyoneto Penn, and he’s not for me, either. We’ve always meant something to each other, even if what that something meant has shifted.
Our pasta arrives, a welcome distraction from the tingling in my limbs, and I’ve never been so grateful to swan-dive into a bowl of noodles.
“Penn,” I start, as we twirl our forks in tandem. “I’ve been thinking about some of your ideas. For The Disco Diner. And they’re not so bad.”
He snorts. “Stop the presses. One glass of wine and she’ll admit I’m not a total idiot.”
“I’m serious,” I say. “I want you to know how grateful I am for all your help. And I want to apologize for dismissing your ideas before. I tend to take charge of the situation when I’m having a hard time.”
“No. You?”
I give him a sardonic look, but a grin breaks through. “Please just accept my apology.”
Penn presses a napkin to his mouth. “Apology accepted,” he says. “And you know what? I think I could get used to hearing praise from you.” He waves a hand. “Let’s hear it. What else have you got for me, Wynne?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m choosing to hear that as a compliment.” He puts a hand to his ear. “Next?”
I can’t help but laugh. It feels good, making Penn feel good. “Okay,” I say, sitting back. “You’re very…tall.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you have good hair.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“And a stupidly hot French accent.”
“Vraiment?”
I grin. Then I pause, considering. “I like how unafraid you are. And how generous you are. With your time, and everything else.”
