Page 11 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

If that’s the case, I shouldn’t bring up my tutoring job. Not only am I employed, but it’s flexible so I still get all the time I want with my friends. Since he thinks entering the career world will take him away from his best friend, I’m only going to make him feel bad.

Ugh, everything I have going for me sounds like I’m bragging. So, I opt for the safe route. “I like to run.”

“Big surprise there.” He gives me a teasing wink. “Is that all you do in your spare time?”

“No. I hang out with Lisa and my other friends, Jackie and Hannah. They’re my roommates, so one of them is always around. I like to go hiking, which Lisa will do with me, but Jackie and Hannah are more into watching movies or shopping. We do go to the bar on ladies’ night, though. Cheap drinks and dancing is always fun.”

“Okay, that’s where you lose me. You dance?”

I scoff. “What’s so hard to believe about that?”

“Nothing. I just have a hard time picturing that tough woman on the mud course today shaking her hips...” His gaze floats toward the sky, his forehead crinkling. “Never mind. I can picture it just fine.”

I giggle. “Do you dance?”

“Me? No. Not a step.”

“Hm. Too bad,” I say with a pout. “Few things are sexier than a guy who can move to a beat.”

Sam clears his throat. “I’d be willing to learn.”

A laugh escapes me, but it fades, and I stop walking. An impetuous idea has taken hold of me, and I’m fighting it. It’s too outrageous.

Sam looks back, confusion spreading across his face when he notices I’m a few steps behind him. “Brynn?”

I flick my gaze away to find an empty covered patio. This crazy notion pokes at me some more, and I can’t ignore it. Grabbing Sam’s arm, I pull him toward it. Once we’re situated in the middle of the picnic tables, I turn to Sam, excitement bubbling within me. “Lesson one.”

“What?”

“You said you’d be willing to learn to dance. Here’s your first lesson.”

He laughs, but quickly stops when he sees I’m not laughing. “You can’t be serious.”

“Absolutely, I am. I can teach you how to two-step. It’s real easy.”

“But there’s no music.”

I shrug. “Sometimes it’s easier to learn when you can count your own beat. Come on.” I wave my hands in the air, motioning for him to remove his hands from his pockets.

Hesitantly, he does, but holds them in the air in question. “What do I do?”

“One hand here.” I take his left hand in my right. “And the other, here.” When I place his right hand on my waist, I have to suppress a shiver. His breath hitches, too. I lay my left hand on his muscular shoulder, fighting the urge to drag my fingers along the defined ridges. “You’re in the lead position, but follow me so you can get the movement down, okay?”

He nods, his fingers digging into me.

“You walk forward with your right foot.” I tug on him gently, and he follows. We go through some basics, like what is a fast step and what’s considered slow. I count out loud the whole time. He only steps on my feet twice, apologizing profusely when it happens, and I can’t help but smile at his vulnerability. Eventually, we pick up the pace, and I introduce the skip.

Sam’s almost what I would call a natural. Sure, he makes some mistakes, but he learns from them and corrects himself each time. It’s impressive. Not to mention, sexy as hell.

After a few minutes, he asks, “Can I lead now?”

“Sure.” I pull out my phone. “How about some music this time?”

He nods, so I tap into my music app. The melodic guitar of “Most People Are Good” by Luke Bryan begins, and so does Sam.

It’s a rocky start, but soon he’s leading me around the patio like a pro. Hard to believe, only fifteen minutes ago, he was following me around like a scared puppy, worried he was going to break one of my toes. Now, he’s gliding along like he’s been doing this for years.

The sparkle in his eyes makes my heart rate speed up, but it’s when he starts singing along to the song that it skips a beat. I feel as light as a feather. This moment is perfect. Between the setting sun, the music, and Sam’s thumb caressing my hand, I lose myself.

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