Love Inspired March 2017 Box Set 1 of 2 by Allie Pleiter Arlene James & Lisa Carter

Author:Allie Pleiter, Arlene James & Lisa Carter
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488018237
Publisher: Harlequin Enterprises Limited
Published: 2017-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Watching her face, Dean knew for certain that Ann was on the verge of tears, but he made himself stay as he was, and finally she came out with it.

“Do you think I’m feminine?”

That couldn’t have been what he’d heard. He’d been hoping for something along the lines of, Do you like me? or Do you think of me when we’re not together? or maybe even Do you think there’s a chance for you and me? But...no, he couldn’t have heard her right.

“I beg your pardon?”

Her hands balling into fists, she practically shouted it at him. “Do you think I’m feminine?”

The question was so stupid that for a moment he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. As a result, his tone may have been a bit sharper than he’d intended. “Of course. How could you be anything else?”

She shifted, mirroring his stance with her arms folded. “But what, specifically, is womanly about me?”

“What is—” He nearly swallowed his tongue. When she looked in the mirror, did she not see what he saw when he looked at her? Dropping his arms, Dean slapped his hands against his thighs. “What isn’t? Jolly, you’re the most—”

Throwing up her hands, she interrupted hotly, declaring, “I have no feminine accomplishments. I can’t cook. I don’t know the first thing about kids. Half the time I can’t even figure out how to dress!”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” he wanted to know, shoving away from the truck.

“I have no close female friends,” she went on. “I can’t sew. I can’t...grow flowers or make jewelry or...” She whirled her hands in angry circles. “I can’t do anything that most women do!”

Dean just stood there, still not believing what he was hearing.

“I’m not like other women,” she declared, and he could tell that she was working herself up to a real meltdown about this. Every time he opened his mouth, she spouted something nonsensical about being too masculine or broad-shouldered or tall.

Then she complained about her hair and her freckles.

“What’s wrong with red hair and freckles?” He liked red hair and freckles. That was how he’d wound up with a redheaded, freckle-faced son.

“Your face is beautiful, freckles and all,” Dean interrupted bluntly, but she couldn’t even hear him at this point, having moved on to the color of her eyes, which were apparently “washed out and faded, like old jeans.”

Frustrated, Dean did the only thing he could think to do, the thing he most wanted to do.

He took one long step, breaching the chasm between them, reached out with both arms and pulled her flush against him, capturing her lips with his.

For an instant, everything froze. But then he tightened his arms and poured everything he had into that kiss, everything he’d felt for so long, everything he wanted with this woman. In seconds she melted, and her arms slid up around his neck.

Kissing Jolly was everything he’d ever dreamed it could be.

Not feminine? He wanted to shake her for being so stupid.

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