Page 19 of More Than a Hero
Slowly, Pete reached up, fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. His touch was light, careful, as if giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t. Instead, she let herself lean in, just enough to feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. And then he kissed her. A slow, searching press of lips, warm and unhurried. Angie sighed into it, her hand drifting up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.
Pete tilted his head, deepening the kiss ever so slightly, and a pleasant shiver ran through her. His hand slid to her waist, anchoring her to him, and she let herself sink into the moment. The quiet hum of attraction. The softness of his lips. The heat of his palm through her shirt.
But just as the kiss started to tip into something deeper, Pete slowed, pressing one last lingering kiss to her lips before pulling back.
Their breaths were uneven, their eyes locked. A slow, lazy smile curved his lips. “I should probably go.”
Angie exhaled a quiet laugh, her own lips curling at the edges. “Yeah… probably.” Neither of them moved right away.
Then, with a reluctant sigh, Pete pushed off the sofa and stood, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet, their fingers lingering before she laced hers loosely through his. She walked him to the door, not letting go until he reached for the handle.
But before he could open it, he turned back to her, his expression softer now, his gaze dipping to her mouth again. This time, she met him halfway.
Their second kiss was just as sweet, just as unrushed, but something was different about it. Something that whispered this wasn’t the last time.
When they parted, Pete traced his thumb over the back of her hand. “Can I see you again this weekend?”
Her stomach gave a little flip. “I’d like that. Um… I have a family thing tomorrow. But…”
“Sunday?”
“Sunday,” she confirmed, smiling up at him.
He gave her hand one last squeeze before stepping outside. “Good night, Angie.”
“Good night, Pete.”
She watched him walk to his SUV and waited until he drove off before closing the door. Her cheeks were warm, her lips still tingling as she climbed the stairs, changed into her pajamas, and slid into bed. Just as she was settling under the covers, her phone buzzed.Home now.A second message followed.Good night, Angie.
Her smile was immediate, and her fingers moved over the screen.Good night.She set her phone on the nightstand, rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes. And for the first time in a long time, she fell asleep smiling.
9
"How did your date go last night?"
Angie glanced up from the loaf of bread in her hands, catching her mother’s expectant gaze. A slow grin tugged at her lips, but before she could answer, her gaze flickered to her grandmother, whose bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Angie shook her head, feigning exasperation.
"What?" Grandma Dorothy asked, her laugh light and knowing.
“Were the two of you gossiping about me?” Angie teased, arching a brow.
Her grandmother’s smile only widened. "I just might have mentioned something," she admitted, eyes brimming with amusement. “But when we talk about you, dear, it’s not gossiping.”
“Oh?” Angie challenged, biting back a smile. “Then what would you call it?”
Her mother smirked as she added another slice of turkey to a sandwich. "Caring conversation."
Angie lost the battle and laughed aloud, shaking her head. The three women stood in her mother’s cozy kitchen, the scent of fresh bread and peanut butter, jelly, lunch meats, and cheeselingering in the air as they worked. Twice a month, they gathered here to make bagged lunches for older shut-ins. The Easy Breezy Lunches program had been Angie’s idea. It was a way to bridge the gap for those shut-ins when Meals on Wheels couldn’t fully cover their needs.
Before she could offer details about her date, the back door swung open. A crisp breeze drifted in as her father and grandfather entered, each carrying stacks of bread.
"More supplies!" her father announced, setting the loaves on the counter.
Grandpa Stan clapped his hands together. "Let’s get to work. Can’t have our friends going hungry."
Within moments, the five of them fell into a well-rehearsed rhythm of spreading condiments, layering meats, bagging up sandwiches, chips, cookies, and apples. The warm, familiar chatter filled the kitchen like a melody Angie had known all her life.
