Page 49 of True North

Anxiety peaks through my core, sending hot waves through my body, ending up all over my face. And it’s only when he steps aside and lets a smaller figure through that I shift on my feet, letting the heat waves peter out.

Rosie is dressed in her Sunday best, her dark hair up, a small evening bag hanging off her elbow. She smiles at the man at the door and pats Harry’s arm. He leans down to listen. A second later, his eyes snap to me.

Oh no, Rosie Rawlins. Your setups have run their course.

I excuse myself from my friends and make my way to the bar. I need a drink. I need to be anywhere but near Harry Rawlins. I have a tendency to let dreams and whims run rampant when I’m near him. I don’t regret helping him out with the ranch auction, but business is one thing.

This thing between us is another thing entirely.

And if I’m honest, even if we can be friends, I value having him in my life. I can’t lose that. I don’t want to. Or Rosie. So, I do what any girl would do when she’s trying to forget a guy. I cling to another one.

I slide my arm through Brad’s and give him my most sincere smile.

He startles and glances at where our arms are linked. It’s so innocent, it’s preposterous. But he slides out of my embrace with a grimace.

God above.

All of a sudden, I’m conscious of every pair of eyes looking our way. I feel like I’m forcing this thing at every turn we take. With the need to avoid my past and the one man I don’t trust myself with, I’m humiliating myself.

“Shall we dance?” I ask, trying to save face.

“Ah, I don’t really dance.” Brad swallows, glancing at the crowd, now moving at a sane pace, couples coupling up.

“Please? One song?” I give him my best puppy-dog eyes.

“One.” He walks for the dance floor.

I can feel heated stares at my back. Most people probably wondering how I managed to make the uptight accountant dance when he clearly doesn’t.

He stops, tentatively resting his hands on my hips. I wind my arms around his neck.

“This is nice.” I smile.

His face is stone.

“Brad? Are you okay?” I study his face as the music hits the melodic chorus, the lyrics whining something about starstruck lovers.

He sways side to side. I look around the huge old hall. And my instincts are right. People are staring as the crowd seems to form a circle around us.

Now, I’m starting to feel something like Brad is. Harry sits at the bar, dark hooded focus drilling into the piece of wood floor I stand on. Brad stiffens as he takes in the scene around us. He clears his throat, pulling back.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” He snaps from my hold and stalks for the exit.

“No...”

His back disappears through the door and into the dark night.

The music crescendos. Every set of eyes that had been not-so-subtly focused on us before now stares right at me. Heat rushes my face. There’s nothing quite as painful as being the small-town spectacle. I try to make my feet move. I need to get out of here. Panic floods in, seizing my limbs, sending my hands shaking. Breath burns as I try to choke air into my lungs.

Tingles inch over my fingers.

No.

The floor swims in my vision.

The last time this happened, I’d just flaked on national television.

Everything slows like molasses in winter.

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