6
A STERN TALKING TO
The sun hangs low in the sky and backlights the Blue Ridge as we get to Roanoke. When Jo opens my door, I admire the sunset. “Beautiful,” I murmur.
“Oui, Libby, you are.” Jo cages me with her hands braced on the car for a pounding heartbeat, then takes a deliberate step back and sweeps her arm out to the side. “Shall we?”
I’m blushing fiercely as I fall in beside her. Jo places her hand on the small of my back. Feminism be damned, I love the possessiveness of that gesture. She opens the door to the restaurant, and I’m moved by all these examples of her gallantry. I smile my gratitude and she dips her head.
We are seated at a small table in a cove of windows. Jo pushed in my chair before seating herself. Candles on the tables and low lighting set a romantically int
