Two to tango, p.1
Two to Tango, page 1
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Dedication
To James. I love you.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Map
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Acclaim for Kathleen Fuller
Other Contemporary Romance Novels by Kathleen Fuller
Copyright
Map
Prologue
Olivia Farnsworth always had a plan. Every Monday for five years, she had been precisely thirty minutes early for the Sunset Cinema’s monthly Vintage Movie Night. As always, she ordered a Diet Coke—no ice, please—then entered the theater and headed straight for her seat. Seventh row, tenth seat, square in the middle of the room. Although all the Vintage Movie Night features could be seen on TV or a streaming service or purchased for her personal collection, viewing the classics at home couldn’t compare to sitting in a darkened theater, the characters larger than life on a massive screen, the surround sound resonating through huge, albeit outdated, speakers. That was an experience.
But as she settled onto the nearly threadbare cushion and waited for Sunset’s yearly showing of The Quiet Man to start, her mind wasn’t on the movies. She was in a rut. A Grand Canyon of a rut. That fact had been pointed out to her last week when Aunt Bea dropped a less than subtle hint that she needed to “step out of your comfort zone, dear.” And Flo, one of her assistants at the Maple Falls Library, had once again offered to introduce her to her grandnephew, a “charming” young man who was still “finding himself.”
A thirty-eight-year-old guy without a plan? No thanks.
She stared at the empty screen. Over the past five years, she’d seen a variety of films in numerous genres. Noirs, musicals, World War II epics, farces, westerns, and the occasional foreign flick with subtitles. But The Quiet Man was her favorite. She watched it at least twice a year. She should be eager to see it for the thirteenth time.
Instead, she was restless, and not only because of her aunt and coworker. For a single second she’d considered not coming tonight and doing something different instead. What that would be, she had no idea. Diverging from her plan wasn’t part of the plan, and her five-year habit of sitting in the seventh row, tenth seat was a hard one to break. So here she was, attending vintage movie Monday again. And after the movie was over, she would go home alone . . . again.
She glanced around and noted a few college-aged students sprinkled among the seats, most likely students from nearby Henderson and Ouachita Baptist universities. To her left, three rows back, she noticed a couple sharing their drink. The girl leaned her head on her date’s shoulder, her expression blissful.
Olivia faced forward again. When was the last time she’d been on a date? Much longer than five years.
Talk about a rut.
A man plunked down on one of the chairs two seats over, a bucket of popcorn cradled in the crook of his arm and a drink in his other hand. Curious, she glanced at him. This was the first time anyone had sat near her in five— Wait. She knew this guy. “Kingston?”
His light-brown eyebrows furrowed over cornflower-blue eyes. Then he grinned. “Olivia?”
She returned his smile. Kingston was her best friend Anita’s older brother, and Olivia hadn’t seen him since last summer, when he’d made a rare appearance at one of the church’s softball games. She inwardly cringed, remembering that despite her determination to overcome her exceptional lack of athleticism, she’d been awful. Oh well; this was Kingston. She wasn’t out to impress him.
He glanced at the empty seat beside her. “Are you waiting for someone?”
She shook her head and motioned for him to join her. He quickly moved to the seat as she took another sip of her drink.
Kingston balanced the popcorn on his knee and set his drink on the floor. The Sunset had been constructed before the dawn of built-in cupholders. “I didn’t know you were an old-film buff.”
“Every third Monday night,” she said. Sigh.
“Me too. When I’m not on call, that is. Usually I’m running late, so I sit in the back. Popcorn?” He tilted the bucket toward her.
“No, thank you.”
“I can’t eat all of this. I should have gotten a medium.”
She was a little hungry, having skipped lunch this afternoon to work on the youth spring program at the library. As head librarian, she had a variety of jobs and tasks to do, but planning the programs for the kids was her favorite. “Just a few.” She picked three kernels and ate them. Hot, buttery, salty. Yum. Why hadn’t she gotten popcorn before now?
Because I always get a Diet Coke, and only a Diet Coke.
He shook the bucket a bit. “How’s the library business going?”
“Good.” Better than good. After years of hard work, and plenty of near begging for extra funds from stingy Mayor Quickel, the Maple Falls Library was finally where she wanted it to be, especially the children’s and young adult programs. She’d even had nearby librarians ask her for advice on how to implement her ideas into their own systems. “Still busy with your practice?”
“Yep. I do some volunteer work at the health department too. And a bit of teaching on the side at Henderson.” He shoveled a handful of popcorn into his mouth. When he finished chewing, he asked, “Have you seen this movie before?”
She glanced at the straw poking out of the plastic top of her cup. “Once or twice.”
“I haven’t.”
“Really? And you call yourself a film buff?”
“I guess I’m an aspiring film buff, when time permits.” He settled back in his seat. “This is a nice spot. Much better than the back row.”
Olivia nodded. As she turned to him, a sudden pleasant shiver danced down her spine to her toes. She froze. Kingston had always been good-looking. Through the years even she’d noticed—when she bothered to take her nose out of whatever book she was reading. But she’d never felt anything when she saw him. Until now. He’d taken off his charcoal-gray puffer jacket without spilling the popcorn, and his blue-and-white checked shirt paired with khaki pants and tan dress shoes looked good on him.
Very, very good.
Normally she wouldn’t care that one of the—if not the—most eligible and desired bachelors in the greater Hot Springs area was sitting right next to her, especially since he was Anita’s brother. But good gravy on a biscuit, was he gorgeous. And as she kept looking at him, she experienced something nice. No, nice wasn’t the right word. More like delectable.
Her cheeks heated, and she stared straight ahead. Where had all that come from? She’d never put Kingston and delectable or gorgeous in the same sentence.
“Have some more.” Kingston set the popcorn bucket between them.
She snuck another glance at him. Delectably gorgeous. She jerked her head away and pinched the top of her straw closed.
“Do they show commercials here like they do in other theaters?” he asked.
“Uh, what?” she replied, still grappling with the unfamiliar thoughts and sensations he was causing.
“You know. The previews before the previews.” He frowned. “When was the last time you saw a current movie?”
She thought about it, grateful to have something different to focus on. “Eleven years ago.” That had been a group outing with her fellow students when she was in college getting her master’s in library science. She would have preferred to continue studying—she had fast-tracked both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees—but her study partners insisted she go with them. She couldn’t recall what the movie was, only that she’d found it dull and preferred her classics.
“Wow, that long,” Kingston said. “I don’t blame you. Most of them are garbage anyway. So what do you and your dates do for fun, then?”
“Dates?”
“You know.” He gave her a wry look. “Guys you go out with?”
“Oh, I don’t have any dates.” Her cheeks flamed.
He scoffed. “You’re kidding.”
She shifted in her chair. How had they ended up on this topic? She’d never been bothered by her lack of a dating life before . . . for the most part. Thanks, Flo. “No. I’m not.”
Kingston paused. “Always the serious librarian.”
“I’m not always serious—” Wait. That was exactly true. She was a serious person, in addition to being in a serious rut.
“Hey, it’s not an insult. I’ve been accused of the same thing myself.”
“By your dates?” She arched a brow.
He glanced away. “Um, a couple. There haven’t been that many for a long time.”
He said the last words
He was smiling again. And once again, she couldn’t look away. He appeared relaxed, almost boyish, making him even more attractive. Her spine started tingling.
Oh no. This wasn’t good. It felt good, but she wasn’t supposed to tingle around Kingston. She wasn’t twelve. She was twenty-seven, and he was her best friend’s brother, not some teenage crush.
But the sensation inside her wasn’t adolescent. It was definitely adult.
Thankfully the lights dimmed, and images hit the screen. She could pay attention to the movie and not the tingle. She faced the front and, without thinking, shoved her hand into the bucket. Instead of popcorn, her fingers brushed against his.
Tingle. Tingle.
She jerked away, tipping the popcorn to the floor. “Sorry!”
“Shhh” came from several directions in the theater.
“Sorry,” she whispered. She reached for the bucket as he scooped it up, leaning close. Their shoulders touched.
Tingle tingle tingle. Three tingles now?
“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered back. “There’s still plenty to share.”
A steam engine appeared on-screen, smoke billowing out of the top, the wheels chugging, horn blowing. But it was all background noise. Her ears were tingling now too.
None of this made sense. This was Kingston, Anita’s brother. A guy she’d known all her life but admittedly knew little about. And this was her favorite movie, in her favorite theater, on the third Monday in January. She wasn’t about to be distracted, not when Wayne and O’Hara were on the screen. She would ignore Kingston, enjoy the movie, and stay away from his popcorn. Afterward, they would say goodbye and go back to their busy lives, two classic-film buffs passing through the night. The tingling would disappear, and although she might give a few minutes of thought to why she’d even tingled to begin with, she would go back to her rut.
Just like she always did.
* * *
Kingston had experienced several surprises so far this evening. First, he’d gotten off work early—which was more a miracle than a surprise. Second, he’d arrived at the theater before the feature film had started, something that hadn’t happened for at least a year. Two, now that he thought about it. Coming to the Sunset was his secret indulgence—it gave him a chance to relax with very little risk of running into a parent of one of his patients.
The third revelation was finding out that Olivia Farnsworth was a vintage-movie fan.
And the fourth—and most confusing—surprise was that he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
The Quiet Man continued to play on the big screen, accentuated by the scents of salty popcorn and ancient upholstery. Currently an aggravated John Wayne was arguing with a spunky Maureen O’Hara, but Kingston had no idea what the fight was about. He was trying to figure out when he’d last seen Olivia and if at that time he’d had such an intense . . . Well, he wasn’t sure how to define his reaction. Attraction seemed too strong a word, and curiosity didn’t quite fit. All he knew was that for the first time in months, maybe close to a year or so, he was in the company of a female who didn’t work for him, wasn’t related to him, and wasn’t the mother / aunt / grandmother / legal guardian of one of his patients. It was nice.
He tried to focus on the screen again. He’d known Olivia since she was a young girl and he was a goofy—in his opinion, anyway—yet driven kid. Even then she’d had chin-length stick-straight black hair and flawless olive skin, and she had always seemed older than her chronological age. She and Anita were usually inseparable, and she had stayed for dinner and/or spent the night more times than he could count during those years. Often, he’d been too busy with school, sports, church activities, and whatever else his mother expected of him to pay attention to either of them. The other times she was just Anita’s little friend, both in stature and in age, and he’d barely noticed her.
For some mystifying reason, he was noticing her now.
Although he tried to stop from looking at her again, he failed and watched as she mouthed the movie’s words:
“Don’t touch me. You have no right.”
“What’ya mean, no right?”
Kingston glanced up at the movie to see the two leads standing in front of an Irish cottage, the woman in a wedding dress. Huh. When had they gotten married?
“Until I got my dowry safe about me, I’m no married woman.”
He’d spent so much time thinking about the past and gazing at Olivia that he’d lost the plot of the movie, and he couldn’t exactly ask her what was going on without looking like an idiot. He grabbed another handful of popcorn and watched as the couple continued to fight.
“This is my favorite part,” Olivia whispered, more to the screen than to him.
Wayne had just kicked down the bedroom door. Now he was kissing O’Hara, and quite passionately—for the 1950s anyway. Kingston looked at Olivia again. She stared at the screen, mesmerized, her hand gripping her soft drink.
Her favorite part was the make-out scene. Interesting.
Wayne scooped O’Hara up into his arms, carried her to the bed, and plopped her down on it. Snap! The bed broke.
Kingston jumped, not expecting the result. The woman was unharmed—and had kind of gotten what she deserved, considering her petulance.
Olivia softly chuckled.
He looked at her again, the light from the screen illuminating her smile. Had she always had such a pretty smile?
He must be overworked (always) and overtired (ditto), because he was paying way too much attention to her and not the movie. Using the laser focus that had made him Maple Falls’ valedictorian and gotten him through an Ivy League college and medical school in under seven years—including his internship—he set his mind to watch The Quiet Man and his not-so-quiet lady.
When the credits started to roll, he thought he heard a sigh coming from Olivia. “I guess you enjoyed the show,” he said, picking up the almost-empty bucket of popcorn.
“I always do. Especially when it’s this movie.” She gathered her purse and coat, then stood.
He rose as well. “How many times have you really seen it?”
“Thirteen. And a half. Aunt Bea interrupted me the third time I saw it.”
“With a phone call?”
“No. Blackberry cobbler.” She glanced at her shoes, smiling a little. “I can’t resist it, and she doesn’t allow food in the living room.”
“Neither does my mother.” He picked up his coat and exited the row, then waved for her to go ahead of him. When she passed, he detected the scent of “clean laundry.” An actual scent—he’d seen the words on the detergent bottle in the laundry room growing up. How such a utilitarian fragrance smelled almost irresistible on Olivia, he had no clue.
They walked up the aisle and out of the theater door. He tossed the popcorn bucket in the nearby trash can as she started to slip on her black coat. Partly out of good manners and mostly out of the unexpected need to be closer to her, he said, “Allow me.”
She nodded and he took her coat. When she turned around, he noticed her outfit—a dark-green sweater with a collared white shirt underneath, a black skirt that hit below her knee, black tights, and flat black shoes. If she had a pair of glasses, she would be the picture of librarian chic.
“Thanks,” she said, putting her arms into the sleeves.
“No problem.” He draped the coat over her shoulders, catching that scent again. Her scent.
What is the matter with me?
Olivia turned and faced him, having to look up because of her short height. He figured he was about a foot and a few inches taller than her. The last girl he’d dated, eons ago, had been closer to his height, making it easier to kiss her. Wait, had he kissed her? He literally couldn’t remember. But now that he was thinking about kissing—
“I guess I’ll see you around,” she said. “At Anita’s wedding for sure, right?”
Right. His sister’s wedding. His other sister, Paisley, had gotten married last year to her lawyer husband, Ryan. He was a good guy, as was Tanner, Anita’s fiancé.
Wait a minute; the wedding was in August, wasn’t it? Hopefully Janine, his admin, had put it on his calendar. “Are you a bridesmaid?”
“Maid of honor.” A touch of pride shone in her dark-brown eyes. “Lonzo is the best man.”
