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“As in a girlfriend?” he sang with a grin.
“Oh, be serious.” British leaned her weight forward and tilted their cart.
“All right, now.” Donovan unwrapped his arm from around her shoulders and grabbed hold of the bar with his large hands until his knuckles turned white. “Stop before you make us fall.”
British stopped and laughed. “I’m sorry. That was horrible of me.” She turned in the seat, pulling the inside of her sole into her left knee to better face Donovan. “I’ll stop.”
“You’re a rotten girlfriend.” Donovan drawled the word with a teasing smile and let go of the bar to face her. She gave him a death stare matched with narrowed eyes and pinched lips. “Oh, so you’re not a girl that’s a friend?”
“You sound like my students,” British chided.
“Given the fact you just commented on my age, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Just then they reached the top of the Ferris wheel. It gave British the opportunity to show Donovan the sights of the town starting with the Four Points Park, which united their neighboring towns—Peachville, Black Wolf Creek and Samaritan—over their treetops. Though British had no idea how long Donovan planned to be in Southwood, she promised him that summertime not only offered the sweetest smells with the peach orchards but also a fabulous light show from the firefly forest. And until now she hadn’t realized Donovan’s arm rested around the back of her seat, resting on her shoulders—or that she’d nestled herself against him.
“And out yonder, right next to the middle school, is the high school,” British said, pointing in the distance.
Donovan cleared his throat. “Is that where you and Christian met?”
Not sure how to answer, British glanced upward. “I’ve never been on a date where a man wanted to hear about my husband.”
Grinning under the stars, Donovan looked down and winked. “So we’re on a date.”
“Oh... I...” She was stumped to find the words. Maybe if she lifted the lap bar she could escape this awkward moment. They weren’t that far off the ground.
“Relax.” Donovan squeezed her shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I get what you’re saying—you wouldn’t date a guy like me.”
“Shut up,” British laughed.
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“Relax,” said Donovan again. He pulled her close. “You’re from a small town. I get it. You’re widowed and I’m guessing being seen with me is going to get people to talk.”
“Again, not just people, my family. My nosy family,” she added.
“I think somewhere in there you did not deny being attracted to me,” he teased.
British gulped and shuddered at the same time. “I’d have to be blind to not see you’re attractive. I just...”
“Seriously,” he went on, “I am not trying to get married or anything. Not now, not ever.”
A sharp pain pierced her heart. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
Now it was Donovan’s turn to shudder. “I’ll pass. I am too old and I’m set in my ways. I’ve heard my sisters complain about their in-laws and having to feel obligated to spend time with them over the holidays. If I don’t want to be around someone, I just don’t deal with them anymore.”
“What a shame. Being a perpetual bachelor seems so lonely,” British said, her lips turning into a frown. Her heart ached listening to him. “I loved being married. There’s something comforting about coming home at the end of the day to someone waiting for you, eager to hear about your day, even if you know your time together might be limited.”
There was no questioning his curious look so British shared a story about Christian, about how they’d met and his heart problems—including about their time being ironically living life carefully, only to be cut short due to a deer in the middle of the road. British couldn’t believe how easy it was for her to open up about Christian. And she appreciated him not coddling her or feeling sorry for her, either. In turn, Donovan shared what it was like to grow up in a famous family and never knowing if he could trust the women who claimed they saw past the scar were interested in him, or secretly out for a modeling job or his fortune. It didn’t make her feel good about coming to Magnolia Palace to butter him up. The poor man never came across a woman who didn’t want something from him.
“This town is nice,” Donovan commented when the conversation lulled.
“Is that sarcasm I hear?” British asked, looking up at him.
“Of course not,” he said with a lazy smile and a wave of his free hand. “I live in Miami. It’s the town that never sleeps.”
British cleared her throat. “I’m pretty sure that’s New York City.”
“You’re the teacher,” he said, shrugging. “But back to Southwood. I like it. It’s growing on me.”
