Page 60 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door
“Yes,” I say, grinning. “Absolutely.”
She holds out her hand, and just like that, I don’t care that I can’t dance. Then her hand slips into mine and I’m transported to another world.
We step into the clearing near the gazebo where the music’s already picked up. Fiddle, banjo, a kick drum that sounds like someone stomping on an old floorboard. The announcer calls out steps I don’t fully understand, but the crowd moves with a cheerfulness that makes me feel like messing up won’t kill me.
Marcy glances up at me. “You can follow instructions, right?”
“More or less,” I say. “Mostly in French.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t let go of my hand. “You’ll figure it out.”
The dance starts. I stumble at first, nearly step on her boot. She laughs and her hand finds my forearm, guiding me through a spin I execute while elbowing a man in suspenders.
We turn. We swing. We shuffle sideways and back. She’s graceful, effortless, light.I feel like a bear in a ballroom. And yet I can’t stop smiling. It feels absurd and young and wonderful.
At one point, she bumps my shoulder with hers, and I spin her by the hand before I even realize what I’m doing. When she comes back around, breathless, her eyes lock with mine.
Everything slows.
The fiddles blur into the background. The voices and laughter, the clapping and stomping—it all fades. There’s only the two of us. Her hand in mine. Her hair loose at the edges.
She looks at me like she’s not sure she should be here. I look at her like I know I don’t deserve to be.
And still, we don’t let go.
Heaven, help me.
I’m falling for her. All at once, like I slipped on ice and forgot to hit the ground. I just keep going.
“Let’s go this way,” she says, not knowing that right now I’d follow her to the ends of the Earth.
Marcy leads me through a break in the booths where the music fades and the hay thins out. I don’t know where we’re going, but she’s tugging me with a kind of quiet purpose, as if she knows I won’t resist. And she’s right.
“This,” she says, pausing beside a crooked handmade sign that readsHAPPY HORIZONS PETTING ZOO & FALL FUN, “is our corner.”
The second I step into the clearing, a goose locks eyes with me. She stands by the fence like a tiny, feathered bouncer, flapping her wings once with the gravity of a war general. I pause mid-step.
Marcy leans in. “That’s Mildred. Don’t show fear. She feeds on it.”
I nod solemnly and keep walking, carefully. Betsy ambles over.
“Ah,ma chérie,” I say, dramatically clutching my heart. “You’ve gotten even more radiant since we last munched hay together.” She blinks and resumes chewing.
Marcy rolls her eyes. “Flirting with the cow. Again.”
“That’s because she listens,” I say. “And she never questions my permit requests. Speaking of which, isn’t that the mayor heading right our way?”
I can’t believe my luck. Maybe I can get this permit sorted out once and for all.
“Mayor Thompkins!” Marcy extends her hand. “It’s great to see you back, sir.”
Mayor Thompkins, at last. Maybe I can finally get my permit sorted out.
He looks a little sheepish, but shakes Marcy’s hand and then nods in my direction. “Good to see you, Miss Fontaine. I was wondering if I could speak to you alone for a minute?” He leans in as if I weren’t standing a few feet away. “I need your help to understand what exactly has been happening during my absence.”
“You bet, sir.” She looks at me. “Can I leave you with Edgar for a few minutes?”
Just at that moment, Edgar catches me looking at him and perks up. He trots over with smug confidence.
