Part 21 (2/2)
”How about me?” Boone's voice came from the bottom of the back stairs. Kinsey jumped out of her arms and ran to give Boone's bony feet a caress before leaping into the rocking chair by the window and settling into the seat.
Lucy loved how Boone looked, with his hair appearing decidedly slept-in and his dark brown eyes both drowsy and somehow brightly aware. He wore a pair of plaid flannel pajama pants and a gray T-s.h.i.+rt that had seen better days. He was smiling at her, his teeth white and straight inside the crooked quirk of his lips.
She loved him. For better or worse and forever. She knew that with all certainty, and if he didn't love her back, that was something she'd just have to learn to live with. Friends. They could be friends.
He was holding her jar.
”Oh,” she said, smiling back at him. ”I was just wondering where that was.”
”Kelly took it home. She washed the jar and the money and cleaned up the dreams as much as she could. With true lawyer-like obsessiveness, she even alphabetized them and put them in neat little paper-clipped stacks. I'm pretty sure there's a new database on her computer ent.i.tled 'Lucy's Pickle Jar' too.”
Lucy spotted the new sign on the side of the jar and laughed. It was a sketch of Gladys Doyle rolling piecrust, and the words Lucy's Dreams were printed in a large speech bubble above Gladys's curly head. ”Thank you.” She took the jar and set it in its old place on the counter.
”What about me?” Boone repeated his question from behind her. ”Did you miss me, too?”
”Yes.”
”If I came back here. To live. To work.” He spoke in fits and starts. ”Would I get in the way of whatever's in there?” He pointed at the jar.
Lucy didn't think she could breathe. ”No.” Her voice didn't sound like her own, so she said it again. ”No.”
”I'm buying that building from Sims. You know, the old lodge building down by the river.”
”Oh.” She couldn't meet his eyes, so she just kept staring blindly at the pickle jar. ”Will you live upstairs there? It's nice and big, isn't it?”
He cleared his throat. ”Well.”
When he didn't go on, she faced him, but kept her gaze on his chin. He needed a shave. ”Well?”
”I thought I'd live here.” He drew the jar closer. ”Hey, there's a new piece of paper on top Kelly forgot to alphabetize.”
She took out the new note, recognizing the paper he drew on. There was another sketch of Gladys, sitting on a park bench in her ap.r.o.n. Beside her sat the stick figure Boone drew as part of his signature in his comic strips. In the bubble over their heads were the words, ”Marry me. We can make each other's dreams come true.”
Lucy swallowed hard. ”That's pretty romantic for a guy with a c.o.o.nskin cap tattoo who's the worst driver in three states.”
”See there? I need you to keep people on the road safe. You can do the driving in the family. As a tradeoff, I'll feed that useless cat and wash everything she sheds on. I'll talk to her about birth control and tell her not to hang with tomcats because they'll take advantage of her, then leave like thieves in the night.”
”Speaking of birth control, what about kids?” she asked. ”I'd like-”
”-several,” he finished. ”Great idea. You can teach them to cook and to drive and I can teach them...something. We'll have to work on that.” His arms came around her, settling her against him.
She smiled at him. ”I love you. I'll love you forever.”
”I love you, too.” His gaze met hers in a delicious tangle of laughter and joy. ”So, what do you say, Lucy John Dolan? Wanna make an honest cartoonist out of me?”
”I say yes.” Her arms came around his neck. ”Oh, yes.”
He kissed her, long and lingering, then swept her into a two-step. They danced around the kitchen in the night, hearing their own music and moving in glorious, s.h.i.+ning time.
Looking for more heartwarming romance in a small town?
One More Summer.
Available now!
Grace has taken care of her widowed father her entire adult life and the ornery old goat has finally died. She has no job, no skills and very little money, and has heard her father's prediction that no decent man would ever want her so often she accepts it as fact.
But she does have a big old house on Lawyers Row in Peac.o.c.k, Tennessee. She opens a rooming house and quickly gathers a motley crew of tenants. And Dillon, Grace's brother's best friend, who stood her up on the night of her senior prom and has regretted it ever since, rents Grace's guest house for the summer in hopes of making up for lost time and past hurts-but first, he'll have to convince Grace that she's worth loving...
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About the Author.
Liz retired from the post office and, for the first time ever, has all the time for writing she wants. It's every bit as cool as she thought it would be. There are stories hidden in her computer keyboard, and she's having so much fun dragging them out word by word.
When the words are being stubborn, Liz enjoys quilting; she's six down on her quest to make a quilt for each of her grandchildren.
She and her husband, Duane, share a farmhouse back a dusty lane where they've lived for more than thirty-five years, taking time out for trips several times a year. Her favorite was to Ireland.
Jar of Dreams is Liz's sixth book, her second with Carina Press. The Debutante's Second Chance, a Silhouette Special Edition, was nominated for an RT Reviewers' Choice Award. Because of Joe was a LASR Best Book choice from Long and Short Reviews.
Liz can be reached at She'd love to hear from you.
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