Chapter 16
Monty
“So if today isn’t about kissing in public, what is today’s lesson on?” I ask as I try to focus on the football game, and not on the tiny moans slipping from Penny every time she licks at her cinnamon sugar–coated fingers.
She’s been tearing the tiniest pieces from the churro, and though I’m slightly irritated that she won’t just eat what she wants, I can’t say I’m not enjoying watching her make a mess as she steals little bites from the bag beside me.
I catch her eye as she takes another sip of her cider and her cheeks burn red under my stare.
God, I love that I do that to her with just a single look.
It might be my favorite thing in the world.
And for the next two or so months, I’m determined to find all the different ways to turn her cheeks rosy.
I can’t stop thinking about the other parts of Penny that are the prettiest shades of pink: her lips, her nipples, the smooth globes of her ass after I spank them.
Shit. No. Where the fuck did that thought even come from? My jeans tighten and I hiss between my teeth trying to temper the need coursing through me.
I’m never like this. I don’t study women, I study words.
I think. I overthink. I obsess over stories and worlds that aren’t real. Never people in my own orbit. Again, Penelope Darling seems to be my one exception.
She lets out the smallest of breaths before launching into her speech.
“The most important part of any romance is the tension between your two main characters,” she explains.
“A reader doesn’t want to be told how the character feels; they want to experience it.
They want to sit with that character as they discover the little things he finds endearing about his heroine.
They want to revel in the yearning before their first kiss, when the briefest touch of their fingers sends electricity sparking through them.
When the need is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. ”
My own tongue feels heavy in my mouth just listening to her talk.
Penny folds her leg and, as she adjusts her position, our knees rub together. It’s the slightest brush but when she settles, her jeans-covered thigh presses against mine. Goose bumps flush across the inside of my leg and my eyes jerk to hers in surprise. How did she do that?
I work to clear my throat as I try to discreetly adjust my pants. “Got it. So we’re working on building tension.”
“Well, not between us. Because this isn’t real,” she reminds me. “But for show? Yeah. I figure that if people see us sitting close, talking, holding hands, and you keep calling me things like your girl…”
She dips her head but I don’t miss the way her freckles blend together and her voice peters out breathlessly.
I look away. It’s torture pulling my eyes from her smooth skin, but if I don’t, I will reach over and kiss her.
This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real.
I chant the words in my head but they don’t stop my fingers from flexing, desperate to reach for her. They don’t stop me from wanting the taste of her against my lips.
“Monty!” Eli calls, walking toward us, a big smile on his face.
Like Penny he also has a firefly on his far-too-pretty face, and his blue eyes dance as he shakes out that damn fancy hair that seems to move with the wind.
I glance at Penny to see if she’s staring at him with stars in her eyes, but she’s watching me.
“How’s it being on this side of the fence? ”
I glance behind him to see Walker, Tally, and Daisy following behind. “I’m definitely not in shape to play anymore.” Unlike Eli, who still has the build of the professional athlete he so recently was.
Penny snorts from beside me.
“Got something to say, Xuxuzinho?” I tease.
“I think you’d do just fine out there.”
I raise my brow, delight coursing through me. “You saying I look good?”
With a small grin she turns away from me, shaking her head. “Don’t go fishing for compliments, Monty. Cocky doesn’t look good on you.”
“But does my girlfriend think I look good?” Fuck, I like saying that word—claiming her, calling her mine.
“Oh, churros! I didn’t know they had them!” Tally squeals, saving Penny from replying. “Pen, can you watch Daisy while we grab some?”
Penny jumps into action as if she can’t get away quick enough. “You got it.”
“Cows don’t belong at football games,” someone shouts from the stands, and the glare Walker shoots in their direction could burn a man.
Tally rolls her eyes. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Stew!”
I stick close to Penny for the rest of the afternoon because I can’t seem to get enough of her. She flushes hot anytime I flirt with her, brush a rogue hair from her face, or try to hold her hand.
Tally teases Walker relentlessly, trying to get him to do anything other than grunt, and he keeps an arm slung possessively around her waist or shoulders.
Eli jokes with everyone, making Penny laugh far too often for my liking.
But as the clock on the scoreboard runs down, I feel my mood lifting, knowing that, tonight, Penny’s full attention will be mine.
***
My father’s sailboat dips and bobs in the amethyst waters as dusk settles over the harbor at the end of our garden.
There is a slight chill in the air that feels fresh and full of new life.
Below my feet, the grass crunches and a deer grazing down by the water’s edge glances up, her eyes meeting mine in surprise at the sounds.
I hold up a hand and offer a coaxing voice, letting her know she’s free to relax, that I’m just getting to work on the bonfire.
Then I drop the wood I’m carrying and the sound sends her running toward the woods to the right of our house.
Within the hour this place will be teeming with people, so it’s better that she gets away now. Living on the harbor and abutting the woods mean our property is mostly quiet, but any sound echoes on the water so tonight it will be lively in this normally peaceful oasis.
I’m tempted to walk out onto the dock to settle on the wooden planks for a few minutes and enjoy the early fall evening but the sound of laughter trickling down from the house has me shaking off my lazy feeling.
Penny is in the house helping Vovo prepare food. My father advertises s’mores and hot chocolate on bonfire nights, but a Brazilian woman would never serve just that. Everyone in Hope Harbor knows to arrive with their stomachs empty and ready to feast.
When I was in high school, my mother would be inside helping alongside Penny. It makes me feel warm to think of how she’s always been part of this tradition. Bonfire nights she just showed up and lent a hand.
I never thought much of it because that’s how our town does things. Penny’s father would be out here with my father and me setting up, telling a joke, asking about my writing.
My chest clenches and I wonder if Penny remembers that as well. If coming here is harder now that he’s not here. Then again, everything in Hope Harbor must remind her of him. They say only the good die young, but it feels especially poignant when referring to Peter Darling. He was one of the best.
I look out for my own dad. Last I saw him he was setting up bales of hay around the firepit, but he’s not there.
I head inside to find him only to hear the strangest thing: Frank Sinatra crooning “Witchcraft” over the old record player in the living room.
I know that’s what it is because of the static that slips through.
I haven’t heard that sound in years. Over a decade at least.
Since before my grandfather died.
Cautiously, I walk toward the music, unsure of what I might find. When I round the corner and spot my father spinning Penny around the living room, both of them grinning, my heart squeezes tight.
I haven’t seen my father in this light in a long time. And suddenly, though he’s right in front of me, I miss him.
Vovo is beside the fireplace, her lips hooked up in a smile, too. It’s a soft one, but when she sees me from across the room, she beams.
Mesmerized, I watch as my father sways Penny from side to side, neither of them noticing me. I’m transported to a time, many years ago, when my grandfather taught Penny and me how to dance exactly how she and my father are now.
Penny was a part of our family—she was my best friend—but somehow, I’d forgotten. Or maybe I’d forced myself to forget.
Maybe it was easier forgetting all of this. How much I loved my father. How much he used to mean to me. How happy the six of us were, dancing and laughing. How it all just ended after my grandfather died and my parents divorced.
When Penny finally spots me, her copper eyes burn even brighter. “Remember when we used to dance to this song with your parents?”
“Yes.” I try to hide my emotions with a smile as I walk toward them. “Though I thought we were supposed to be setting up for the bonfire.”
“There’s still time for that,” my father scolds. “Come on, dance with your girl.”
He winks and steps back, taking hold of my grandmother and spinning her around instead. Vovo lets out a surprised laugh at being dipped and my heart cracks again.
That sound used to be heard so often. It’s another reminder that time—just like love—is fleeting.
“You still got the moves, Montgomery?” Penny’s teasing voice shifts my focus.
I shrug in response. “Not sure.”
I offer her a hand and, as she walks toward me, the black top she’s wearing beneath a long burgundy cardigan shifts higher, giving a glimpse of ivory skin that looks so soft I ache to touch it.
She’s no longer sporting the adorable firefly makeup she was wearing earlier.
Though she looks just as pretty, if not prettier, than this afternoon.
She slides her fingers into my hand and I pull her closer, swaying us both in time with the music.
“One two step, one two step,” she murmurs as we follow the steps my grandparents taught us. Her hips are warm against my fingers and I have to work hard not to squeeze her flesh.
“Like riding a bike,” I reply.
She chuckles as I step on her foot. “Some things never change.”
My gaze dips to her lips and I draw on every ounce of strength to not lean closer and kiss her. It would only take a few inches and a little bit of courage.
But capturing her mouth is a risk I’m not sure I’m ready to take. Because I could get lost in Penny Darling.
***
A few hours after I spun Penny around our living room the yard is filled with townspeople and the smell of burning wood and smoke fills the air. My father is strumming a Beatles song on his guitar while some of the kids cuddled up on hay bales by the fire sing along.
I spot Eli and Fletcher chatting with Walker and Tally, who, fortunately, left Daisy at home. Not far from them, the Liberty Ladies huddle around Penny’s mother, all deep in conversation and gossiping freely, I’m sure.
I’m acutely aware of Penny’s location at all times.
Just like when we were kids, she’s disappeared down by the water to the maple tree. She’s leaning against the bark, head dipped and focused on the Kindle in her hand. The only thing that has changed is that she used to have a flashlight and a paperback.
Seeing as everyone else is taken care of, I join her. It’s silly really—the whole point of this charade is for people to watch us, to put on a show for Hope Harbor. Yet, here I am, searching her out in the dark of night, hoping for a few minutes alone.
I tell myself it’s because of the lessons, for the book. We’ve only got limited time together, and I have a lot to learn. But I’m a damn liar.
The farther away from the bonfire I stray, the quieter it gets. The laughter and singing from farther up the hill sound like an echo as the bright glow of the fire fades into a flickering candlelight.
As I near Penny, the moon overhead provides a shimmering shadow of light that illuminates her form perfectly.
“Good book?” I ask, not wanting to startle her.
Penny’s eyes slide across the page—as if she’s finishing her sentence—before she lifts them to meet mine. With a small smile, she shrugs. “Just getting to the part where she figures out he’s had feelings for her all along.”
“Ah, so the tension’s about to snap?”
She shoots me a deadpan expression. “One lesson and he thinks he’s an expert.”
“Nope, still a lot to learn. Please teach me, O wise one.” I motion to the spot next to her. “Can I sit?”
“You don’t have to. I just needed a break from all the peopling.”
I lower myself down beside her and turn my head so I’m looking right at her. “I want to. And I remember.”
Penny’s brows lift in surprise. Though I have no idea why; we spent many a night sitting out here just like this, her with her back to the tree, me with my arms wrapped around my knees, relaxed in a way I’ve only ever felt with her.
Being with her now feels like settling in beside the fire, wrapped in my favorite blanket. It’s soft in all the right places and it feels like home.
I blink and shake away the thoughts that Penny is the reason this moment feels like home. Tonight is just another lesson—nostalgia and the woodsy smell of the bonfire are getting to me.
“Do you like coming to these things?” With a dip of my chin, I motion to the crowd up the hill and glance back at her.
“I know it seems weird and my ex never understood it”—I frown at the self-deprecating tone in her voice—“but I do like being up there with everyone. I just…sometimes get overwhelmed, too. And I don’t always have a lot to say.” Her lips twist. “My books are far more interesting than me.”
I bite down on the side of my cheek to stop the rage bubbling inside me from erupting. How could she believe that? How could she not know that she’s the most captivating person in every room? That dick didn’t deserve an iota of her time if he made her feel that way, and yet he got years.
It makes me want to work extra hard to show her how she deserves to be treated.
“I’ll never call you a liar, Penny Darling. But I assure you, you are mistaken.”
Penny’s face softens and I watch as her long, thick lashes flutter open and closed. “It’s a gorgeous night, huh?”
I nod as my attention remains on the most gorgeous thing about it. Even in the darkness, I can see the blush spreading across her cheeks under my gaze.
“So what did you think of your first lesson today?” she continues.
I don’t answer immediately because I have this innate need to drag my fingers across the smooth skin of her cheek, to see if it’s as warm as it looks. The feeling is so overwhelming, I don’t hesitate. My fingers heat the moment I touch her, the action sending a jolt of electricity through me.
Penny sucks in a breath. “What are you doing?”
“Building tension,” I murmur, my body humming as I smooth my thumb back and forth across her beautiful flushed skin.
Her whiskey eyes go round as she watches me watching her. She has no idea the power those eyes hold.
“You’re really good at this faking thing,” she whispers.
Funny thing is, I wasn’t even trying.