Love Finds You in Victory Heights, Washington Read Online Free PDF Page A

could she explain to this stranger what she still felt about Vic? Her guilt that she hadn’t loved him enough to marry him when he wanted, sending him off instead to be killed?
    The Jeep’s engine started with a rumble. Kenny’s sincere eyes almost made her change her mind. After all, Vic wasn’t here. It was Kenny who stood before her, wearing a big grin. And she hadn’t been on a date recently. Or at least a real date that didn’t involve her friends setting her up or sneaking away during a picture show—leaving her alone with some soldier who “just happened” to be seeing the same movie at the same time.
    Kenny’s eyes searched Rosalie’s face. “If you don’t want to give me your number, can we meet somewhere?”
    He seemed so nice—a guy she’d like to have a conversation with.
    “There’s a place I go with my friends.” She dug in her pocket for a slip of paper so he could write down the address, but then her fingers touched Vic’s photograph.
    Even if she only wanted to be friends with this guy, he could eventually want more than that. She shook her head, curls bouncing. She couldn’t risk her heart. Not again.
    “I mean, I’m sorry, Mr. Davenport. I—I have to go to work.” She forced herself to look away. She didn’t have time to explain.
    “Sir,” she said, tapping the driver on the shoulder, “I’m ready to go now.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” The young GI threw Kenny a look of sympathy, as if to say, “Hey, bud, that’s the pits.”
    The Jeep slowly edged through the crowd toward the bus stop.
    “But, Rosalie!” Kenny called after her.
    Rosalie folded her hands in her lap, refusing to look back.
    I did the right thing. I’m not ready for romance. Not until I’ve done all I can to make my failures up to Vic. Not until I rivet a million rivets—or at least prove myself to him. Prove that I’m worth loving…and dying for.

Chapter Three

    Kenny stood alone beside the platform’s steps, following the Jeep’s slow progress past the old-style stone Metropolitan Theatre, onward to the model of Monticello, and out of sight. He took in a breath. Rosalie’s perfume, light and flowery—like roses—still lingered in the air. The soft scent contrasted with her strong, independent demeanor. Yet, the sincerity in her eyes when she apologized revealed a gentleness she obviously tried to hide. Kenny blinked, instructing himself to stop attempting to solve the riddle of Rosalie Madison—a girl clearly not interested in him.
    Behind him, ha cha cha chas and drum rim shots sounded from the stage as Lana Turner and a local actor performed a comedy bit. The crowd guffawed. Apparently the almost-romance between Kenny and Rosalie was already forgotten. Kenny scratched the back of his neck and tried to rein in his emotions. Then he remembered his assignment for today: to find a story.
    As the lunch hour ended, the music stopped and Kenny heard a snicker. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.
    “Hey, buddy.” Nick’s broad smile greeted Kenny as the bassist limped off the last step from the stage and hung his arm around Kenny’s shoulder. His friend was only a few inches taller, but Nick’s colorful personality made him larger than life.
    Kenny frowned. “Did you tell her to do that?”
    Nick planted his fists on his hips, backing away from his longtime friend. “Who, me?” Nick placed an index finger on his chin. “What’re you talkin’ about?”
    “Lana Turner! That famous Hollywood star a few yards behind you. You told her to bring us on stage, didn’t you?”
    Nick’s shoulders scrunched up as he shook his head. “Naw, not really.”
    “Not really?” Kenny returned, feigning—well, half-feigning—anger. He’d truly been embarrassed. “You love making a fool out of me, don’t you?”
    “What d’ya mean? Nobody thought you were a fool.”
    “C’mon, I looked like a desperate loser—not overseas at war and not getting the girl.”
    “Aw, think about how much joy you brought