Page 56 of When Wildflowers Bloom

Somehow, a circle of dancing bodies forms around us. In the spirit of putting on a show, I take Sam’s cane and he dances without it for a few seconds—his hands in loose fists overhead as he shuffles, his friends all clapping and cheering.

Finally, when I’m thirsty and Sam’s legs are tired, we walk back to our table, breathless.

“That was fun,” I say, smiling.

“That’s what it’s all about,” he replies. “I’d go to war a hundred times knowing that nights like this were waiting on the other side.”His grey eyes are dancing as he says it; he means it. All his Best Worst Days were worth it.

He takes the last sip of his beer and sets his empty plastic cup on the table.

“I’ll get you another beer,” I offer, standing up. “I need a gallon of water anyway.”

I don’t miss his, “It’s about time you do something useful,” as I walk away.

When I look over my shoulder at him, he’s smiling.

At the bar, I order water and a beer and wait while the busy bartender hustles around.

“I have to admit,” a deep voice says into my ear, “I didn’t know Pam Beesly had moves like that.” The familiar scraping of a beard against my skin shoots chills across my neck and awareness to every corner of my body. I don’t have to look, but I do.

There stands Bo.

Twenty

I’ve accepted my bodydoes this thing where all breathing, heart beating, and logical thinking stops at the first moment of Bo recognition. I know now to expect an ache to touch him or be touched by him. I know that, for just a few seconds, my bones will go soft, and I will have to fight to stand upright. I’ve stopped stopping myself from noticing the way lines crinkle around his dark brown eyes with his slow-to-grow smile, the way his hair is tousled to accidental perfection, and how he wears a beard and T-shirt—tonight with a flannel over it—like I’ve never known possible. I know his smell, that damn Bo Mountain Breeze, will go into my nose then infiltrate my body like an infectious disease at first contact, making my mouth water.

And that toothpick that rolls across his lips that I once found ridiculous, briefly becomes the object of my intense jealousy for the audacity it has to be so close to hismouth.

I fought all those things the first times we saw each other, but now, I just let it happen. I accept that he has the power to do this—to ruin me. Like a traveler seeking refuge from a storm, I’ve learned to just wait it out until I can breathe again.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, almost dizzy from the shock of him.

He leans casually against the bar next to me. “You told me you might find your once in a lifetime love tonight, I needed to see who he was.”

I tuck my chin down to my shoulder, looking away to hide my smile.

“Any luck?” he asks.

The bartender sets the drinks on the bar, and I drop cash down before picking them up.

“Not yet, but the night’s young.” I raise my eyes to his. “Do you want to meet my date?”

“Lead the way,” he says, and picks up his own beer from the bar, following me through the crowd.

At the table, we sit. It’s introductions. There are, “I knew your grandfather, Bo” comments and him thanking them each for their service. He’s so damn thoughtful it hurts. I want him to say something stupid, be arrogant, show me something undesirable, but it’s impossible. My dad was right; heisa good one.

Then, one of them says, “You married that Greer girl, didn’t you Bo?” and I rememberthat.

Because yes, Bo has a wife.

Somehow, despite how big of a deal him being married is, I keep it shoved out of my mind. Between our hikes and grocery shopping and dinners together, she’s gone, and it’s been simply a legal matter. Like a pending date for traffic court. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Bo clears his throat, toothpick moving slowly from the left to right side of his mouth as if he’s trying to figure out how to answer him. “I did.”

“Where’s she these days? You two still together?” the man asks.

I pull my head to one side, breathing through the question. Because yes, technically, they are still together, I realize.

“She’s in Nashville I think, but I’m not really sure.” He shifts in his seat several times.

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