Page 25 of Penny & Royce

“Probably not yet.”

A surprised laugh slipped out of her, and it did something dangerous to his chest.

Before he could overthink it, Royce brushed a whisper of a kiss to her brow. “Come on. I want to show you my favorite.”

He released her hand, then a moment later, offered his again as he headed down a corridor toward a smaller exhibit. To his surprise, Penny took it.

He glanced down at their clasped hands, needing proof that she had chosen it this time. Sure enough, her fingers were wrapped around his. A smile tugged at his lips, unbidden.

Their connection went beyond the attraction he knew was there. Beyond the banter and the way his pulse changed every time she looked at him.

He didn’t have a name for it.

Or maybe he did, but if he said it out loud this soon, Lincoln would have him committed. Penny might too, but she would probably be a lot nicer about it.

The room had a single bench in the middle, and there were three pictures. But only one of them was being showcased above all else.

Penny gasped, finally dropping his hand as she moved closer to the picture. It was one of those combination works. The artist had taken a picture of a cowboy in the rain, then added paint to accentuate the emotions the man in the photograph was feeling. The subject peered out at a section of land that wasn’t covered by clouds, light coming through.

At first glance, the man looked sad. But the longer Royce had stared at the picture, the more he saw hope in those eyes.

He took a step closer to Penny, stopping beside her so he could see both the painting and her face. She held her fingers to her lips as she drank in the image.

Royce cleared his throat, but she didn’t glance at him. All he got was a blink. He peered up at the work of art and rocked back on his heels. “I’ve never seen anything capture hope like this before. Not to this degree.”

Penny sucked in a breath as if she’d been holding it until he spoke. When she didn’t add to the conversation, he continued.

“It’s cliché to say life is hard and we have to look for the bright spots. Everyone says that—especially when they’ve never had to sit in the dark for long.” He nodded toward the picture. “If I had to guess, I’d say this man knows what it feels like to be swallowed up by it. Maybe he gave up on finding his way out of whatever his life became. And yet, based on the way that rain ispouring off his cowboy hat, but he’s still turned toward the light, I’d say he’s fighting.”

Penny stayed quiet, but he could feel her listening.

“That’s the point, right? The light in that field is too far off to chase. It might keep moving. The storm might keep coming. But that doesn’t take away…”

“Hope,” Penny murmured.

He tipped his head and glanced in her direction. “Hope,” he confirmed. “Hope is knowing that eventually the rain will ease. Even if he can’t reach that bright field, the clouds will shift, and he’ll be able to breathe again.”

Penny chewed on her lip and folded her arms. “You sound like a philosopher.”

“You sound like a therapist.”

She laughed then and glanced at him, causing him to smile.

“The picture is beautiful,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I might have to reach out to the artist to get a print for my office.”

“We’ll make sure to get a card on our way out.”

They left the gallery and headed down the street toward a bookstore. He pulled out his phone and winked. “Are you ready to get your adrenaline pumping?”

Her brows pulled together low. “What does that mean?”

He held up his phone with a timer.

Five minutes.

“Okay…” she murmured. “Let me guess. I have five minutes to pick out a book for you.”

Royce shook his head. “Five minutes to get the lay of the land. Then you get three minutes to pick as many books as you want.”