Chapter 11
Sam
Clementine’s is the one place in Whynot that tries to be unlike Whynot.
It has linen tablecloths, candlelight, and a live piano player who looks like he’s been here since the invention of jazz.
It’s fancy, high-priced, and there’s not a single item on the menu that comes with French fries.
Most town citizens can’t afford it, and I’m betting that most people are wondering how I can afford to bring Penny here on a bartender’s pay.
Well, that’s not the first thing they’ll be tittering about. The gossip mill fired up as soon as we walked in the door, me holding Penny’s hand. There’s no doubt in my mind texts went out and it’s already halfway around town, everyone curious if I’m courting the DC girl.
We’re shown to our table, and even though Penny squeezes my hand in quiet reassurance, my pulse still tap-dances in my ears.
I’ve been on dates before—casual dinners, a few flings—but this is absolutely different.
The kind of different that makes me straighten my shoulders and hope I don’t say something stupid.
She’s all calm poise and effortless grace, while I’m trying to remember which fork you’re supposed to start with.
Penny Pritchard does something to me, and it’s not just because she’s beautiful—it’s because she makes me want to be better at every little thing she notices.
She’s got this spark that makes you feel like you’re being seen and assessed, but in the best way. Like she’s taking stock of who you are so she can decide if you’re worth her attention—and God help me, I want to be.
I pull out her chair, admiring the forest-green dress that swishes around her knees when she walks. She has all that dark red hair pinned up with tendrils framing her face.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she says with an exaggerated batting of her eyelashes.
I know she expects me to quip back at her, but instead I bend down to whisper. My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “You look incredible tonight.”
Her blush is evident, even in the candlelight.
When I sit down, she says, “You clean up damn good, too.”
“I had to dust off the sport coat. Didn’t want Clementine’s revoking my Southern gentleman card.”
She laughs softly, and that sound—that easy, unguarded joy—hits me like a balm.
I glance around and sure enough, several people are watching us. I lean forward, my gaze meeting hers over the candle. “What do you think everyone makes of us?”
Penny’s regard roams the restaurant, and when they’re back on me, the corner of her mouth lifts. “That I’ve turned heathen seductress after my years in DC and I’m here to corrupt the town’s favorite son.”
I snort so hard, the couple next to us—Mr. Pellam, the local bank president, and his wife—shoot us a disapproving look.
Penny and I grin at each other and then the waitress shows up.
It’s a rarity that I don’t know her, because it’s hard not to know everyone in such a small town.
She’s polite and efficient, and although her accent is quite neutral, my guess is a northern transplant who came south for the weather.
We’re told the specials, Penny orders a glass of wine, and I order an IPA on draft.
Mrs. Pellam flattens her lips in disapproval when we clink our glasses across the table.
Doesn’t bother me a bit if she’s a teetotaler. That’s part of the charm of Whynot.
Penny orders the salmon with a lemon cream sauce, and I go for the steak. We share the corn bread basket between us, and I can’t help noticing the way she tears hers into neat little pieces before she eats, like she’s savoring the ritual as much as the food.
“So,” she says between bites, “have you always known you’d stay in Whynot?”
I nod, setting my fork down. “Yeah. It’s home and always will be. While I loved living in Chapel Hill while I was in college, I really missed this place.”
“What did you miss?” she prods, with obvious interest.
I have to think about it. “I like its rhythm. I like knowing every face that walks into Chesty’s or down Main Street.
I like that if my truck breaks down, somebody’s gonna stop to help instead of drivin’ around me.
It’s slow sometimes, and people can be… opinionated, but this town’s my compass. Keeps me grounded.”
Her smile is soft. “You make it sound like a love story.”
“It kind of is,” I admit. “I love this town even when it makes me crazy.”
She tilts her head. “So why hide your writing from it, then? Don’t you think they’ll come through for you?”
That question lands clean and sharp, and I can’t do anything but shrug.
“Who knows, but people here like their boxes wrapped tightly. Sam-Pete—the bartender, the handyman, the local boy who never left—that’s the version they’re comfortable with.
S. P. Rochelle, the guy who writes steamy romance novels?
That’s a foreign creature I’m not sure they’d want to know. ”
Penny folds her hands under her chin, studying me. “Maybe you’re underestimating them.”
I throw it back at her, because although she’s been gone for six years, she knows this town as well as I do. “You really believe that?”
She offers me a sheepish smile. “Probably not. At least not for a big chunk of the people. But you have some who will be thrilled for you. All the Mancinkus clan, Pap, Aunt Muriel, Sissy, Mary-Margaret. Hell, I know Floyd will probably offer to be security for you.”
I laugh because Floyd will probably want to be president of my fan club.
“On the flip side, you know just how deeply conservative most are. My dad’s going to get teased, which will affront his masculinity, and my mom will be humiliated.
I know I can’t live my life for them, and I don’t care what people say about me, but I do care what it does to them. ”
Penny doesn’t argue. She just looks at me, really looks, with understanding. “That’s a lot to carry.”
“I got strong shoulders. It’ll be fine.” I nab the last piece of corn bread, splitting it with her. “What about you? You asked why I stay, but really… why did you leave?”
She looks toward the window, to the slow parade of headlights on Main Street. “Because I wanted more and I needed something bigger. I wanted the bustle, museums, art and people who thought in color instead of black-and-white. But really, my job landed me there. I found purpose there.”
“I really didn’t know what you did until you were explaining it to Pap the other day in Chesty’s. It made me realize… you love Whynot as much as I do, you’re just showing it in a different way.”
She nods, her expression between amused and fond. “I love what I do—fighting for farmers and rural communities, trying to keep family land in family hands, but it’s hard work.”
“I can’t imagine anything is easy about politics,” I murmur.
“I often compare it to shouting into the wind. And the victories are small, but every one of them counts. Coming back reminded me of that.”
I rest my elbows on the table, intrigued. “How so?”
“I obviously came home to help Muriel, but it wasn’t just about helping her.
It was about the people, because they’re the ones who inspired me to fight for change all along.
The farmers, the families, the small businesses, trying to survive.
If I can make a difference in their lives by offering them biscuits in the morning while Muriel recuperates, then that might be just as important as what I do in DC. ”
“Muriel owes you a huge debt of gratitude,” I muse, taking a sip of my beer. “Running that diner is no easy task.”
“It sure beats sitting in an office full of people arguing about pork-barrel spending.”
I grin. “You mean the kind of pork-barrel spending that has nothing to do with sausage?”
She snorts out a laugh that makes a couple at another table glance over. “Exactly that kind.”
I love how she laughs—unapologetic, unfiltered. There’s something contagious about it.
We fall into easier talk after that. She tells me about DC—the restaurants that stay open until two in the morning, the Smithsonian’s night tours, the majesty of the mall. It all sounds magical and is definitely a place I would like to visit.
In my mind, I compare it to Whynot’s spring festivals, the annual pie-eating contest, how Chesty’s once hosted a karaoke fundraiser that ended with Pap singing “My Girl” to a potted fern because it was the only thing that wouldn’t walk away.
I truly can’t imagine living anywhere else.
And the thing that sucks about liking a woman such as Penny? I’m thinking she’d say the same thing about Washington.
We indulge in dessert and at Clementine’s, it’s always the same—pecan pie and decaf coffee.
By the time we step outside, I’m surprised to see that we spent over two hours in there and never ran out of things to talk about.
My ribs are slightly sore from the way she made me laugh, and I don’t know what to think about the fact that she loops her arm through mine as we stroll along the sidewalk.
When she rests her head against my arm, I know I’m falling for this girl, and we haven’t even kissed yet.
Crickets sing like they’re onstage at an opera, and the streetlights cast everything in a soft, golden haze.
The romance author in me thinks the setting couldn’t be better for the end of a first date.
We walk slowly toward Muriel’s house. It’s only three blocks away and we left my truck there since it was such a nice night.
“I forget how quiet it gets here,” she says. “In DC, there’s always noise—sirens, people, traffic.”
“Some people find it boring,” I say.
“It feels… peaceful. Grounded.”
“You sound dangerously close to saying you missed it.”
She bumps my shoulder with hers. “Don’t push your luck.”
When we reach the sidewalk that borders Muriel’s front porch, Penny turns to face me. “Thanks for dinner, Sam. I enjoyed every minute of it.”
“Me too.” I tuck my hands into my pockets and toss out my request. “Are you up for doing it again?”
“Another date?”
“Tomorrow night?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. We’re training a new waitress.”
“Lunch?” I suggest.
“At the diner?”
“No, but just be ready to go at noon.”
Penny beams at me. “All right. It’s a date.”
She turns to walk up the sidewalk, but my hand shoots out of my pocket and wraps around her wrist.
Penny glances back at me, eyebrows raised in question.
“I know you didn’t forget about our conversation regarding my intentions. I gave you fair warning.”
She gives me a cocky grin and I can tell she didn’t forget about my promise at all. “The part where you warned me you were absolutely going to kiss me tonight?”
“That’s the one.”
“Well,” she murmurs, stepping closer, “I appreciate a man who keeps his promises.”
“And I appreciate a woman who doesn’t hang back shyly but steps into what she wants.”
My hands move to frame her face, and the kiss starts slow and careful.
But when her lips move against mine, the world narrows to nothing but us.
Her hand comes up to my chest, a soft press that sends heat straight through me.
I angle in closer, my palm finding the curve of her jaw, thumb brushing along her skin.
She sighs into it, and the sound goes straight to my head.
Her mouth is warm, a little unsure at first, then steady and sure as we find a rhythm. I taste wine and pecan pie, and it makes me want to pull her closer, forget we’re standing under a streetlight in front of half the town.
For a few long seconds, I do.
When we finally break apart, she’s breathing fast, lips slightly swollen, looking at me wildly, like she’s trying to figure out what just happened. Truth is, I’m doing the same.
“Guess there’s something to be said about a man following through on his promises,” she says with a smile that could undo me.
I laugh softly, resting my forehead against hers. “You’re dangerous, Penny Pritchard.”
“Only if you’re smart enough to notice.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed.”
She pulls back, still smiling. “Good night, Sam.”
“Good night.”
I watch her walk up the porch, unlock the door, and before slipping inside, she waves to me.
I hold up my hand in acknowledgment and then she’s gone.
I just stand there for a few beats and think about how the entire evening played out.
I should head home, but I don’t. I stay rooted to the sidewalk, recalling the sound of her laugh, the way her hand felt against mine, and consider that I’ve never liked someone as much as her.
Sure, I’ve dated, but I’ve never been interested in anything serious.
With Penny, I could see a future with her. She’s amazing in all ways and I’d be a fool not to recognize that.
The only problem is that her future is in DC and mine’s here in Whynot.