“I doubt they know yet. They’re too busy to follow gossip headlines. But, don’t worry, they’re going to love you.” His gaze drifts over my chest, but his hands remain where they are.
Will they approve of Henry settling down, though? “I’d like to meet them before the wedding if that’s possible.”
“It is. They’ll be in town at the end of the month for an annual event we always attend together. I meant to tell you about it.”
End of this month? “For Halloween?”
“You could say that.” Henry’s lips twist in thought. “It’s not the best place to meet them though. It’s loud and busy. And there’s a lot going on. Why don’t we invite everyone to our place for dinner beforehand?”
“Like a dinner party?”
He smiles. “Sure, call it whatever you want.”
A strange mix of excitement and nerves swirls through me. I don’t know any of these guys, but if they’re like Henry, they don’t just order pizza. “What would this involve exactly?”
“Not picnic tables and potluck.”
I laugh. “Hey, there is nothing wrong with a good potluck.” I lift my toe, making his entire body jolt.
He grabs my foot, shifting it away from that sensitive area. “If you’re on a farm in Greenbank with two hundred of your closest church friends, sure. Not with this crew. Hire someone. Get Raj to help you. He used to work in catering, so he knows the right people.”
I can’t contain my grin. Our first dinner party as a couple. “Okay. Yeah … this is a great idea.”
“You know what else is a great idea?” His strong hands slide up the backs of my legs as he pushes my thighs apart. His eyes flare as they take in my bare flesh. “You bringing my favorite meal.”
My head falls back with a moan at the first swipe of his tongue.
CHAPTER 5
Henry parks next to the silver pickup truck he bought me this past summer. It’s gleaming from a fresh wash. No doubt it was covered in dust only hours ago, but according to Daddy, Jed’s been caring for it like it’s his own. It may as well be. Henry bought it for me when I was living on the farm, to replace the old banged-up one with duct tape holding the bumper on.
I step out of the SUV and inhale the fresh, crisp air. The sun is already setting, providing a picturesque backdrop for the double-story farmhouse that’s over a hundred years old, built by my great-great-grandfather. I’ve called it home for my entire life. It’s the place that’s fostered all my childhood memories, including countless ones with Jed.
And for the first time since February, with Henry by my side, it feels good to be back.
Mama always goes the extra mile in fall, filling bushel baskets with vibrant mums and lining the porch steps with pumpkins from our patch. Stacks of small hay bales throughout the front yard create spots for more flowers and pumpkins. She’s added a few new pieces to the porch this year—a colorful doormat and hurricane lanterns as well as bulky blankets on the swing that are begging for someone to curl up under them.
The windows glow with light, and I can make out Aunt May’s silhouette in one.
“Can you spare a hand?” Henry calls out, rummaging through the trunk of the sleek black Lincoln that was waiting for us when we landed at the private airfield in Pittsburgh.
He hands me a fall floral arrangement, bursting with dahlias in rich hues of orange, burgundy, and gold. “Where did this come from?”
“A florist.”
I give him a flat look as he collects several gift bags.
“I gave Miles a list and he arranged for it.” With his arms loaded, Henry hits the key fob and the trunk closes. “Flowers for your mother, cognac for your father”—he holds up a cylindrical box wrapped in black satin paper and sealed with twine—“and wine for everyone.”
My heart warms. That he even thought to ask Miles is something, especially when he’s neck-deep in running an empire. “That was nice of you.” But I already knew Henry was capable of being thoughtful. I cringe, wishing I didn’t have to warn him. “They don’t drink.”
He smirks. “Something tells me they will tonight.”
“I have never seen a bottle of wine at our dining table in my entire life.”
“Fine. More for us, then.” His polished shoes send loose stones scattering as he follows me toward the front porch, slowing to take in the house with a curious stare.
“What’s wrong?” I know our little country hovel is nothing like he’s used to. Is he wondering how he ended up here, marrying into country folk?