Angels Everywhere - Debbie Macomber [233]
“You don’t need our permission,” Dillon responded. “Jenny makes her own decisions.”
An eternity passed before the meal was over. Jenny tormented him during dessert by licking the whipped cream off the back of her fork—her eyes locked on him the entire time.
When she announced she was too full to take another bite, Trey nearly picked her up out of the chair in his eagerness to get her alone.
“How about a stroll to the barn,” she suggested.
“Fine.” He didn’t care if she suggested New Zealand; he wasn’t waiting another minute for her to explain her earlier statement.
The night was clear and crisp. Trey led her by the hand into the barn. “All right,” he demanded without turning on any of the lights. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”
“I said a number of things. Which one do you mean?”
“Jenny, for the love of heaven.” He jerked her into his arms, and it wasn’t until she slammed against his chest that he realized how willingly she’d come.
“You big oaf,” she said, solidly planting her lips over his before he had a chance to kiss her. Wanting her as badly as he did, for as long as he had, Trey nearly crumpled to the floor under the weight of his joy. The kiss was slow and deep and moist.
“Oaf?” he repeated, holding her head so he could kiss her again and again. Fifty years wouldn’t be nearly enough to satisfy him.
“You didn’t stick around long enough for me to answer. If you’re going to propose to a woman, the least you can do is wait for the response.”
He kissed her just long enough to cut off her tirade. “Answer me now.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “First I think I’ll make you suffer.”
She hadn’t a clue to how much he’d already been suffering. His breath came fast and heavy as she brought his mouth down to hers once more.
“Jenny, I love you.”
“Yes, I know. We’re going to be very happy, Trey. First we’re going to get married, then we’re going to start our family. I want a house full of children. I’ve been so hungry for family.”
His throat went thick. “That sounds perfectly fine with me.” He kissed her a dozen times, and even the gentleness between them, the love and tenderness, were far from being sated. “What about New York?” He had to know.
“Michelle got the part.”
“But I heard . . . Irene asked to talk to you.”
“It’s true they offered it to me first, but when I declined, the role went to Michelle.”
“But this was your big dream.”
“I loved New York, but I love you more. Montana is where I belong, right here with you. I knew it a long time ago, but was too stubborn to admit it. I’m home now.”
The back porch light went on, and Dillon appeared on the top step, although there wasn’t any chance he could see them. “Hey, you two, it’s about time for church. Are you ready or not?”
Trey’s hand squeezed Jenny’s. “We’ll be inside in a minute.”
“Is there going to be a wedding?”
“Yes, sir,” Trey shouted back. “Soon, too, the sooner the better.”
Dillon laughed. “Welcome to the family.”
Trey kissed Jenny one last time, and with their arms wrapped around each other, they headed for the house.
They hadn’t gone more than a few steps when thick, flat flakes of snow drifted down from the sky.
“I thought you said it wasn’t going to snow,” Dillon challenged, waiting for them on the back porch.
Trey looked up to the bright, clear sky. “I don’t know where it’s coming from,” he mumbled, puzzled.
“Maybe someone up there is telling us how pleased they are to hear we’re going to be married,” Jenny suggested.
Trey kept his eyes trained on the cloudless sky. “Maybe you’re right.”
“It seems to me we’ve met in a similar spot before,” Gabriel said to Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy as they sat in the choir loft of St. Philip’s. The congregation crowded into the church for the Christmas Eve ceremonies. Candles brightened the interior, and pure red poinsettias decorated the altar.
“Hello again,” Shirley said, leaning over the loft to get a better view of Brynn and Roberto. The two sat together, holding hands and singing. They appeared to have eyes