His smile didn't falter, but the light in Jack's eyes showed his joy at Penny's consent. The same hand that had removed the curl from her face now caressed her cheek lightly, enjoying the softness of its round curves before he closed his eyes and leaned in close. Penny's face would feel the short bristles of his close cropped beard and mustache as inched closer to her slightly parted lips. His other hand found its way to the back of Penny's one hip to hold her close. Jack did not mash his body against her like some oversexed teenager, but he was close enough that she could smell the faint scent of WD-40, sawdust, and pumice orange soap that clung to his skin and for her to feel the warmth of his body so close to her own.

For all that his lips were somewhat chapped, the kiss was gentle and light. More importantly, there was an honesty to it, as though Jack could do nothing that was not sincerely in word and action! Somewhere along the line, his hand had slipped from her cheek down to her other hip as though to steady them both. The Newfoundlander savored the returned kiss as a gift she was giving to him. For several moments, there was nothing but the delightful presence and fragrance of Penny Raffin in his arms, and it was everything he had hoped it might be since the first time he saw her.

It wasn't love. Not by a long shot. But it was a start, and that was enough for Jack Pumphrey.

When they finally broke the kiss, it was with a certain rueful reluctance on his part. Resting his forehead against hers, he found himself ever so glad that they were of a similar height; he might have a few inches on her, but that was far better than a foot or more! He'd hate to think of how a crick in his neck from craning down to kiss her might have impacted that first kiss!

Eyes still closed, Jack sighed in contentment. He bestowed another kiss upon her forehead, a fleeting warmth only before resting his brow against hers once more.

"Best kind," he whispered to her with a light grin, "Oh, yes, b'y!"