Books from the Heart by Suzanne Whitfield Vince

Author:Suzanne Whitfield Vince
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: award winning author, family dramas, family sagas, fiction collections, fiction womens fiction romance, macomber, fiction with strong female character, collections and anthologies, bargain collection, fiction romance clean and wholesome
Publisher: Suzanne Whitfield Vince

The following week, Grace walked the long way around the field to her bench. She’d thought about not coming, but in the end she decided she wasn’t going to let Antonio Ramos chase her away from her favorite spot. So she arrived later than usual, when the men were just finishing their game.

As she sat down, she glanced over at them and Antonio waved. She waved back—she didn’t want to appear rude—but she didn’t return his ridiculous smile. She was not interested in him, or any other guy, for that matter. And even if she were, she had no time for them. It was as simple as that.

She tried to focus on the sketch of the bridge, but she was finding it hard to concentrate. She flipped the page to another sketch she’d been working on and studied it.

“Is that me?”

Grace flew off the bench as though she’d been electrocuted and hugged the sketchpad to her chest. “I…no…it’s not you,” she said. “And what are you doing sneaking up behind me like that?”

He gave her a knowing smile and her cheeks prickled with embarrassment.

“Sorry about that. I thought you heard me calling to you. Gosh, I’ve only met you once before and I believe this is my third apology. I think it must be a new record.”

Grace cracked a smile and pointed to the basket he held in his hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, well, I thought you might be thirsty, or hungry, or something, so I brought some coffee and scones. Would you like to share them with me?”

“Scones? Seriously?” She reached for the basket.

He snatched it away. “Yes, and believe it or not, I baked them myself.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You bake?”

“Why the note of surprise?”

She looked him over from head to toe. “It’s just that you…don’t look the type.”

“Oh, I see. And just what ‘type’ do I look like?”

“A jock. More Hot Pockets than hot buttered scones.”

He put his hand over his heart in mock indignation. “Hmm, okay. So I guess that means you don’t want any then.”

“I didn’t say that. I mean, since you went to all that trouble, I guess it would be rude if I refused.”

“Quite.” He sat down on the bench beside her, looking pleased with himself. He took out a thermos and a container with the scones, and placed it between them. He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her.

He held up his cup and made a toast. “Here’s to the beautiful artist who has captured my attention, whose name I don’t know and, frankly, don’t want to know because that would spoil the mystery.”

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled anyway. “Grace,” she said at last.

“Grace. What a beautiful name.”

She took a bite of a scone and raised an eyebrow.

He watched as she practically inhaled the scone and reached for another.

They talked for the next hour. She told him she was a student at NYU, studying both art and journalism. He confessed he was a lawyer and that he worked for a non-profit organization in the city.

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