Page 12 of Mud, Love, and Chemistry

I don’t let go often, which is why when I go dancing, I dance by myself. I don’t like to be led. If a guy wants to dance with me, fine, but he doesn’t control me. I usually keep a tight grip on myself. Right now, though, I can’t hold on. I close my eyes and let Sam lead.

As the music fades, Sam slows his pace. The song ends, and he lets go of my waist to twirl me around as our last step.

Though I miss the thrill of his touch, I step away to gape at him. “You’re a fast learner, Mr. Eastman.”

He hikes a shoulder to his ear. “I may or may not have danced with my mom at my aunt’s wedding.”

“Oh, so you lied about not dancing?” I tilt my chin up as I fold my arms.

“I didn’t lie.” He points upward. “I said I don’t dance, which is true. I just didn’t tell you that I two-stepped with my mom when I was eight years old.”

My giggle is cut short when I notice our hands are still joined. I swallow, turning toward the setting sun. “Sam, it’s getting dark, but I don’t want this night to end yet.”

“I know. Me neither.” He tugs on my hand, pulling me toward him. “I don’t want to sound creepy, but would you want to come back to my room and hang out some more?”

Normal, rational Brynn would say “hell no” to a request like that, but she’s taking a back seat on this ride. Care-free Brynn is here, and she doesn’t overthink as much. Since a million butterflies rush through me, all from the excitement of extending our date, I say, “Yes, I would.”

His face spreads into a wide smile. “Let me text Walt that we’ll be coming back.”

Chapter 4

When we get back to the hotel, neither of us breathe as we walk to his room. By the time we get inside, Sam’s face is bright red, and I’m sure mine matches. We burst into laughter.

“Why is that elevator so slow?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “It’s like they know people are trying to hold their breath.”

I laugh, glancing around, and a crease forms between my eyebrows as I take in the empty room. “Where’s Walt?”

“Oh, he texted me that he got his own room. Said he didn’t want to spend the night in the lobby.”

The crease in my forehead deepens. “Hm. Kind of presumptuous of him to think I’d be here all night.”

Sam’s lithe expression falls, his face paling as panic flares in his eyes. “No, Brynn, I didn’t mean… I wasn’t saying that… Shit.”

I laugh outright. “Sam, it’s fine. I’m joking.” Sort of. “I get that Walt wouldn’t want to be the third wheel. It’s actually very nice of him to pay for another room.”

“Yeah,” Sam says in one long syllable as his shoulders noticeably relax. “He said I should consider it my next birthday present.”

“When’s your birthday?”

“March 30th.”

“That’s so far away!” I practically double over with laughter, but as soon as it subsides, I shiver in the chilly room.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I hate air-conditioning.”

“Oh, well, come on.” Sam walks across the room and throws back some heavy curtains. “This place may not be luxurious, but it has a balcony.” He opens the squeaky slider, motioning for me to follow.

I gladly step through the doorway and into the warm evening air. It may be sunset, but it’s still a wonderful eighty-five degrees, and my body naturally adjusts to the temperature.

“You have a fantastic view.” Sarcasm drips from my words as I take in the gas station below.

Sam laughs as he pulls a couple of chaise lounge chairs toward us. “Maybe that’s the real reason Walt switched rooms.”

I laugh with him and take a seat. “We can pretend it’s a really boring TV show.”

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