He took the little gift-wrapped packet she held out, slipped it into the pocket of his leather jacket. Turned, looked out at the night, but didn’t move toward the door.
Rose watched him, wondered why he was hesitating. Because he wanted to stay? Talk to her? Get to know her? Because he, too, acknowledged the buzz that was still hovering in the air around them, and he wanted to explore it, see where it would go?
Then he shook his head, turned back to her, the smile still playing softly around his lips. Nice talking to you.”
“Nice talking to you, too.” She meant it.
He still wasn’t heading toward the door. “My name is Jonah. Jonah Livingstone.”
“I’m Rose Badger.”
“Until next time, Rose.” His eyes held hers. Warm eyes. Intimate eyes. Eyes that could create havoc with a woman’s senses. “
She waved once. “See you then.”
He stepped out into the night, turned once again, his hand also raised in a half-wave, half-salute. Then, vanished into the falling snow and dusky evening.
Rose shrugged. Next time, he’d said? What sort of next time? This was Blake’s Folly. People always said they’d be back, but they rarely were. Why return to a pile of clapboard shacks and abandoned trailers? This was nowhere. This was the end of the line, socially speaking. This was a has-been. This was home.
