Page 58 of Second Chances

I hope you’re having a pleasant time with Amy.

I’m finding it difficult to concentrate on any work,

and for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to.

Sorry if I text as if I’m composing a letter.

Josh always says I’m too formal.

Amy sighed. “Nope, not perfect at all, is he?”

Charlotte grinned and held her phone to her chest. “Did you say you were getting a water? I’ll take one, too.” As soon as Amy gave her a thumbs-up and a knowing grin, she quickly answered Henry.

As an English teacher, I appreciate that your texts aren’t a collection of abbreviations, haha.

Amy and I just got to the rodeo.

It’s so hot out here.

But not as hot as last night.

I can’t stop thinking about you, either.

Charlotte fanned her flushed face with the rodeo program, craning her neck looking for Amy, desperate for the water she urgently needed to cool herself down. Spotting the white cowboy hat and Amy’s contrasting black hair, she saw her talking to a man about a head taller than her friend, also wearing a cowboy hat. Amy was half a foot taller than Charlotte, so the man had to be well over six feet. And as he glanced her way, she could see he was at least ten years younger. Okay, Amy had found her cowboy for the night.

When Amy got back to her seat, she said, “Hey, Lottie, if you want to take off and go see Henry, I’m fine with that. Rhett said he’d be glad to keep me company.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow at her friend. “Rhett, huh? You don’t think he’s a little young?”

“Lottie, you know since my second divorce, I’m not fooling around with men my age. Besides, he’s not that young.”

She longed to go to Henry, but loathed to leave Amy. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ditch you…”

“Totally. We can meet up for dinner later, unless you’re too preoccupied,” Amy winked.

“Well, okay, then. Call me if you need a ride,” to which Amy raised her eyebrows.

Deciding to surprise Henry with lunch, she stopped at the concession stand and ordered two bratwursts with sauerkraut, Dakota Style chips, and a homemade pretzel with beer cheese. “Is this all for you, Charlotte?” Ellen Lefferts asked.

“I’m actually taking it to someone. Can I get a bag?”

“Ah…Henry?” How could Ellen know? “Ruth mentioned seeing the two of you at the dance last night.” And Ruth, being Ruth, had mentioned it to her mom, along with probably half of Beverley by now. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she hasn’t told anyone else. She just said that you both seemed very happy. I’ve known Henry for a long time. He’s spectacular. Tell him I said hi.” Handing her the bag, Ellen said, “Here’s your food. By the way, I was serious when I told you yesterday that we need to go to breakfast again.” Was that only yesterday? So much had happened that it seemed like a week ago.

“Definitely. Give my best to John, okay?”

“Oh, he’s here somewhere. Somebody came and got him. Apparently there’s some trouble with a horse.” Ellen’s husband had been a renowned veterinarian before retiring a few years ago.

Parking in front of Check Care Auto, she waved at Liza, Effie’s boss, and Ashley, owner of the Beverley Bake Shoppe, who were sitting at a table outside Mr. Beans. Paul and Adam were also outside and yelled a greeting across the street.

The garage doors to the shop were down, and she called, “Henry,” after peeking her head in. Faint strains of music came from the direction of his office, along with the tantalizing aroma of…was that chocolate she smelled? And marshmallow? Closing the door behind her, her thumb slipped over the lock in the center of the handle. “Henry,” Charlotte called again, noting the collection of tools next to and under the vintage truck in the garage. Black with what looked like a racing stripe across the door and front panel, the vehicle gleamed under the bright lights of the shop. A rag rested on top of the hood, but there were no other signs of Henry.

In her flip-flops, she padded to his office, expecting to find his broad shoulders bent over end-of-day paperwork, but his office, too, was empty. Where in the world was he? She traced a finger along the desk, which seemed to pulse, echoing the heartbeat of its owner.

“Charlotte?” Whirling at the sound of his deep voice, her mouth dried at the sight of him: clad in denim coveralls that were unbuttoned to his waist, wearing a white undershirt. Her eyes snapped up to his face. “Charlotte,” he repeated silkily, blue eyes shining while he leaned against the door frame.

Swallowing furiously, attempting not to pass out in his office, her eyes drifted helplessly from his handsome, smiling face to his broad shoulders. Struck with the overwhelming urge to go to him and inhale what she knew would be his utterly male scent, she lifted the bag of food. “I brought you lunch.”

His eyes locked with hers. “I’m starving.”