Page 24 of All I've Waited For

He looked at her, and the wry smile on her face was enough to coax out one of his own. “This is all very refined and elegant, but I can’t bring myself to try them.”

She picked up one of the little orange things with a sprig of greenery sticking out the top. “For someone who knows wine like the back of his hand, you sure have an underdeveloped palate when it comes to food.” Taking a bite, she closed her eyes and chewed. “Mmm.”

A dab of something white stuck to her lips after she’d polished off the appetizer. He stared at it for a moment before grabbing a napkin and handing it to her. “You left something behind.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She wiped her lips, but missed it completely.

“No, right there.” He indicated the spot on his own face.

Ashley tried again, but it still clung there stubbornly.

“Here.” He leaned closer and ran the pad of his thumb over the corner of her mouth.

Both of them froze at the contact, and man, he couldn’t possibly miss how smooth and full her lips felt.

Dropping his hand, he swiped it across a napkin. Derek cleared his throat. “Got it.”

Thank goodness the server chose that moment to return with a platter of something he did recognize. He turned toward Ashley, who bit her lip as she watched him. “Soft pretzels?”

“I know how much you like them.” She fiddled with her napkin. “Or, you used to, anyway.”

He sensed the hidden meaning in her words. “I still do.”

“Good.” A smile teased the corners of her lips. “I would have found it hard to believe your tastes had changed that much. Not after you used to order them wherever we went.”

That’s right, he had—at the movies, the mall, the festivals in the park.

The fair.

And then the memory struck—the two of them, not too long after he’d returned home several years after college, laughing and sharing a pretzel while the Ferris wheel spun them round and round the night sky. Before that night, she’d only ever been his best friend’s little sister, but somehow, she’d gone and grown up. And she’d been radiant.

That was the night he’d known she was someone he could fall in love with.

Staring at the plate of pretzels, he held back a sigh. So they had a past. It was foolish to pretend it hadn’t happened, that they hadn’t been friends. Was it also foolish to think that maybe they could be friends again?

Derek picked up a pretzel, broke it in two, and handed one half to Ash. “Bon appétit.”

With a full-on grin, Ashley took the offered gift and popped the bite into her mouth.

Chapter 7

Thank goodness for second chances.

Despite Ashley’s appointment mix-up last weekend, today’s festival meeting had gone smoothly so far. “Does anyone have any questions before we break off into our subcommittees?”

Her eyes swept the back section of the Frosted Cake, which Ms. Josephine had graciously reserved for the festival planning committee’s late-afternoon meeting. In addition to the complimentary cookies the proprietor had contributed to the cause, the restaurant’s expansive windows, eclectic beach-themed decor, and racks of homemade jams made it a much more inspired meeting place than City Hall.

Mayor Jim Walsh jumped up from his seat nearby and sauntered toward Ashley. “I know I speak for all of us when I say thank you for your hard work on this, Ms. Baker.”

A murmur bubbled through the crowd of twenty-two volunteers. From his seat next to Madison a few tables over, Evan eyed his dad warily. Old Bud Travis, who sat on Madison’s other side, winked at Ashley and gave an encouraging smile. A few of her Griffin cousins sat in the back, including Spencer, a pastor at the community church at the south end of Main Street, who flashed her a thumbs-up. His mom Elise sat next to him, pen poised above paper as she listened intently to the conversation.

Ashley acknowledged the mayor. “Of course. I’m happy to help.”

“And we know how much you do for our town, believe me.” Mayor Walsh placed a light hand on her shoulder. His voice rang with sincerity, but if Evan were right, his dad’s only ambition was to get reelected come the fall. He hadn’t even supported Evan’s festival idea at the beginning. Not until he saw how the town had backed it. “If it gets to be too much, though, you just let me know. I’ll be sure to get you the help you need.”

His fingers—and his implication—pressed into her like one-hundred-pound weights. So much for second chances. “Will do.” She turned back toward the crowd. “I’m sorry again for missing last week, everyone. Thanks go to Evan for his assistance filling in the gaps.”

Evan waved it off. “No problem.”

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