Keeper of the Stars (25 page)

Penny had always thought the butterflies-in-the-stomach sensation was a myth dreamed up by the hopeless romantics. But as Trevor escorted her along the path from the porch to his truck, she discovered how real the feeling could be.

After helping her in on the passenger side, Trevor got in behind the wheel and started the engine. Then he glanced her way and smiled. “I'm glad you agreed to do this, Penny.”

“Me too.”

Neither of them spoke again until they reached the edge of town.

As Trevor slowed the truck to twenty miles per hour, he said, “I'll be helping take down the Christmas lights when I go to work on Monday. Too bad. I like Main Street this way.”

For some reason, the comment calmed those silly butterflies, and Penny was able to smile again. “I've often wished they'd leave the lights up year-round.”

“I suppose the town council wouldn't like the power bill.”

“I suppose not.”

Most of the businesses in town had long since closed down, but the parking lot of the Dusty Trail Saloon had a half dozen trucks and cars in it. The Merc was still doing business too. However, it was soon apparent that the place to be in Kings Meadow tonight was the Tamarack Grill. The parking lot was full. Piles of snow, pushed aside by snowplows in recent weeks, had formed a once-white wall opposite the restaurant.

“Is it like this every year?” Trevor asked.

“To tell you the truth, I don't know. I've never come here for dinner on New Year's Eve.”

Finding a place to park a fair distance from the Tamarack, he pulled his truck to the side of the road and turned the key. The night fell like a silent blanket around them. Trevor got out and came around to open her door, the snow several inches deep beneath his boots. His gaze dropped to the open-toed heels she wore.

“Not exactly snowshoes,” he said as his gaze lifted to meet hers.

“I should have thought. It wasn't like this at home.” She swiveled on the seat to face him. “It isn't all that far. I'll just take off my shoes and make a run for it. My feet won't freeze.”

“I have a better idea.”

Before she knew what was happening, she was out of the cab and held in his arms. He closed the truck door with his shoulder, then carried her across the street and up to the entrance of the restaurant. Once there he lowered her feet to the ground.

She could hardly breathe. Her heart pounded erratically and her legs felt unsteady beneath her. She feared someone might have seen him carrying her like that—almost like a bride across a threshold. At the same time she wished he held her still.

“There,” he said, smiling. “That's better than running barefoot through the snow.”

He was right. It was better. Much better.

He opened the door and motioned for her to enter. She complied, stopping when they reached the sign that asked them to wait to be seated. Noticeably warmer air swirled around her legs and feet.

“Here,” he said. “Let me take your coat.”

By the time Trevor was holding both of their coats over one arm, Cynthia Rogers, one of Tamarack's waitresses, approached them, menus at ready, a smile on her lips. “Hi, Penny.” Her gaze shifted to Trevor. “Welcome back.”

He answered, “Thanks. We've got a reservation. It's under Reynolds. Trevor Reynolds.”

Cynthia glanced down at the open book on the hostess stand. “Yes, right this way.”

Trevor placed the fingertips of one hand against the small of Penny's back and fell in slightly behind her as they followed the waitress to their table. The touch through the chiffon fabric—intimate and warm—made her skin tingle. Cynthia placed the menus on a table and stepped out of the way as Trevor held a chair for Penny. After she was seated, he put their coats on an empty third chair opposite her and took the chair to her right. Close enough for him to lean over and talk to her if he wanted.

The butterflies stirred to life again.

Cynthia told them the night's specials, then took their drink orders and left.

“They've added a few tables since the last time I was in here.” Trevor removed his hat and set it on top of their coats. Music began wafting through the restaurant, drawing his gaze to a corner near the bar. “And live music too.”

Penny looked in the same direction. There was a man on a keyboard, another with a guitar, and a woman on vocals. “That's a first, as far as I know. Must be something they do for New Year's.”

“She's got a nice voice.” His appreciation was obvious.

“Nowhere near as nice as yours.” Before the words were out of her mouth, she wished them back. She didn't know why. She supposed because, for the most part, they had avoided talking about his music career. Had that been his choice or hers?

“Miss Cartwright, did you pay me a compliment?”

She looked at him again, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I guess I did.”

“Well, I thank you.”

Cynthia returned to their table with their beverages. “Are you ready to order or do you need a little more time?”

“I know what I want,” Trevor said. “Penny?”

She nodded. “I'd like one of the specials. The New Orleans barbecued shrimp and Cornish game hen.”

“Sounds good. I'll have the same.” Trevor took Penny's menu, then handed both menus to the waitress. After Cynthia walked away in the direction of the kitchens, he looked around the room. “Lots of familiar faces here tonight.” He waved and smiled at someone.

Penny leaned to one side to see who it was. Buck and Charity Malone were seated several tables over. Charity mouthed
Hello
to Penny and waved. Penny acknowledged the silent greeting.

When she returned her gaze to Trevor, she found him watching her as if looking for an answer to some unspoken question. “What?” she said after a lengthy silence.

“Nothing. I was just thinking what a great day this has been. First our horseback ride. Now this dinner.”

Pleasure coursed through her. “We haven't eaten yet. You don't know dinner will be great.”

“Sure I do. I've heard great things about the chef. As you'll recall, I've met him.” He leaned toward her. “Besides, it's the company that makes the evening great, much more than the food.” An admiring look filled his eyes.

When he'd first seen her tonight, he'd called her beautiful. Suddenly she felt beautiful, both inside and out. No man had ever made her feel this way before.

What's happening between us?
she wondered, hoping that whatever it was, it wouldn't stop.

Brad

2014

From: Brad Cartwright

Subject: Will arrive in Nashville late December/early January

Date: October 7, 2014 at 9:52:24 AM MDT

To: Trevor Reynolds

Thanks, Trevor, for your recent e-mail. Yes, I am definitely graduating one semester early. Those summer classes I took are finally paying off. I plan to spend Christmas with my dad and sister. Then I'll pack up my truck and head for Nashville.

I couldn't believe it when you wrote that your drummer is leaving the band at the end of the year. No, I can believe it. I've felt like God's been in charge of this dream of mine all along.

You bet I want to audition for you. I know I'll only get the job if I'm the best one for it. No worries there. And no matter what happens, it's good to know I've got a friend in Nashville already. That means a lot.

Brad

Chapter 19

T
REVOR HAD NEVER ENJOYED LOOKING AT A WOMAN
as much as he enjoyed looking at Penny throughout dinner. Her hair. Her eyes. Her mouth and her smile. Sure, he'd always thought her pretty, but this was more than that. Then there was the sound of her voice and the melody of her laughter. They talked of many things, and no matter what she said, it seemed brilliant or interesting. The food, as he'd predicted, was delicious, made more so because of her presence.

But the evening became sheer perfection when couples began dancing to the music of the trio. Trevor hadn't noticed the space that had been left for a dance floor until couples made their way there.

“Let's join them for the next song, Miss Cartwright.”

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded.

He rose and held out his hand to her. She placed her fingertips in his open palm, and he closed his hand around
hers. Slowly, he drew her up from the chair and led her to the dance floor. Once there, he drew her into his arms.

The next song began. An old Anne Murray tune, “Could I Have This Dance?” He couldn't have chosen a better one for this moment. As they moved in time to the music, Trevor wondered if she heard the lyrics in her head the way he did. Did she feel them the way he did? Were they personal to her the way he wanted them to be? Could she hear him asking her the same question?

Earlier today, he'd told her he wouldn't ever marry, but tonight the thought of being without her by his side, in his arms, was almost too much to bear. Little by little over the past weeks, he'd fallen in love with her. Maybe, because of Brad, he'd already been half in love with her before he came to Kings Meadow. But even if not, he loved her now. There was no escaping that truth. He didn't want to escape it, and what surprised him most was that he wasn't surprised by the discovery any longer. He'd run from love, from commitment, because of his father, because he never wanted to make the same kind of mistakes. But Penny was right. He didn't have to repeat them. He was finished running.

Maybe this was what Brad had had in mind when he asked Trevor to come here. He'd like to think so, anyway. Maybe it was what God had had in mind too. Maybe all the resistance had been in Trevor's own head and heart. Maybe he'd just been afraid of loving someone and of being loved in return.

He lightly pressed his cheek against the top of Penny's head and breathed in the faint floral scent of her shampoo,
felt the silkiness of her hair on his skin. And suddenly he wished the Tamarack Grill wasn't the best place to be this New Year's Eve. Because he wanted to kiss her, and he couldn't do that with half of Kings Meadow watching them.

At least it feels like half the town.

The song ended. Reluctantly, he loosened his hold, but he couldn't make himself take a step back from her. Several heartbeats passed, and then she was the one to put a little distance between them. But when he looked at her, she smiled. Not a wide, laughing smile. Small and almost secretive.

The desire to kiss her grew stronger.

“Hey, folks,” came a male voice through the speakers. “I've had a special request for Trevor Reynolds to come up here and sing us a song or two. For those of you who might not know, Trevor's come to us from Nashville, where he's a singer. Our own Brad Cartwright was the drummer in his band.”

The intimate moment was shattered into a thousand pieces. Trevor's gaze snapped toward the trio. Would hearing her brother's name bring hurt back into Penny's eyes? Would his singing make the memory worse? He didn't want to do that to her. Not now.

A smattering of applause began, encouraging him to go to the microphone.

“Go ahead, Trevor,” someone called from the far side of the restaurant. “Sing ‘Keeper of the Stars.' ”

More applause, louder this time.

His gaze swung back to Penny. He'd expected thoughts
of Brad to erase her smile—like they had the night they went caroling—but it was still there, although muted.

“Go ahead, Trevor,” she echoed softly. “Everyone wants to hear you sing.”

“You're sure?”

She nodded. “I'm sure.”

“Penny,” a woman said from a nearby table, “come and join us.”

She looked, nodded again, and allowed Trevor to escort her to the empty chair. He didn't recognize the couple at the table, and she didn't perform introductions.

He leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “I won't be long.” When he straightened, he saw the soft smile remained. He took encouragement from it as he made his way toward the microphone, his steps unhurried and measured. It wasn't stage fright he felt. Performing better than two hundred days per year for the last decade in all kinds of circumstances had stripped him of most of his performance nerves.

He reached the makeshift stage and took the proffered microphone in his right hand. “Thanks.” His gaze swept the restaurant.

Conversations had died by this time. There was only the occasional clink of table service against dinnerware and some muffled sounds from the kitchen. As he'd noted earlier, he was no longer an unfamiliar face among strangers. He'd been introduced to many of them since the day of his arrival. He'd been made a part of this community. When was the last time he'd felt that way? Had he ever?

“Sing ‘Keeper of the Stars,' ” came that same male voice. Trevor was tempted to shade his eyes and discover who it was. Instead he turned toward the two men behind him. They nodded, understanding the unspoken question. They knew the song. He told them what key he wanted and then turned back to his audience.