Page 87 of Bountiful
Maybe all athletes coulddance?
But no. Dave wasspectacular. His feet moved quickly, his steps light. And even as he wowed me with his prowess on the dance floor, he and May chatted. When she gave him a nod, he spun her, picking up the pace, weaving in a circle around and through the other dancers on thefloor.
They were showing off, really. But who could hold it against them? May didn’t have quite as many moves as Dave, but she was a great sport, followinghislead.
Mine wasn’t the only head that turned to watch them. Which meant that everyone saw my brother Alec cutting in a moment later. He tapped a whirling Dave on the shoulder, a grumpy look on his face. Then he said something curt. Dave’s eyes widened at the interruption, but he stepped back immediately. The song changed just as Alec tookMay’shand.
I watched my brother begin to dance and cringed. He wasn’t terrible, but Dave was a tough act tofollow.
A moment later, Dave dropped into the seat beside me with asmile.
“That was fun to watch,” Iadmitted.
“Is it your turn?” Heasked.
“I’m sorry to say that swing is not part of my repertoire. I’d trip overmyfeet.”
“I doubt that,” Dave said kindly. “So I guess your brother has a thingforMay?”
“Nope.” I laughed. “To be honest, they’re not really even friends. Alec owns a bar, and May is a recovering alcoholic. Not a lot of overlapthere.”
Dave chuckled. “So your brother hates me enough that he feels the need to break up a swing dance with one of hisacquaintances?”
“I guess so. But don’t take it personally. He’s had two years to hate you and just a couple of weeks to think about gettingpastit.”
Dave crossed his arms. “So I think you should dance with me. Consider it aversion therapy for yourbrother.”
“I told you. I don’tswing.”
Dave tapped his foot in silence for another minute, watching the dancers move. And when the song changed, he stood up and held out a hand to me. “Slow dance! On your feet,beautiful.”
“You smugbastard.”
He smiled, his palm waitingforme.
I stood up slowly, suspecting this was a terrible idea. As my hand folded into his bigger one, I was sureitwas.
“Come on, everybody can slow dance,” he said, mistaking the reason for my hesitation. “Just pretend it’s a high school dance, and they’re playing ‘Stairway toHeaven.’”
I followed him onto the dance floor, putting my hand on his shoulder. We were too close now. With his hand at my waist and the smooth scent of his aftershave enveloping me, wistfulness made me blurt out a trashy reply. “If this were a high school dance, we wouldn’t be dancing. I’d probably be blowing you under thebleachers.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I knew I liked you.” He pulled me a little closer. I liked the feel of his hand wandering onto my back better than I cared to admit. But at the same time, I felt eyesonus.
“People will talk,” I said, straightening slightly to put another inch of respectabilitybetweenus.
“And say what?” He grazed the shell of my ear withhislips.
Goosebumps rose on my back. “I can’t decide if my scarlet letter dims or shines more brightly since you came to town. I have to live here after you go back to Brooklyn,youknow.”
“Sorry.” He was quiet for a second, guiding me around in a slow circle. “Respectability has never been my forte. But I don’t want to tarnishyours.”
“It’s blackened already, Iguess.”
“What a pair we make.” Dave skimmed his lips over my eyebrow, then he pulled back an inch or two and gave me a potentsmile.
My defenses were weakened, damn him. So I didn’t look away. I just let his heated look shine alloverme.
It was a bit of foolishness on a summer night. Swaying to a love song under a Vermont sky that was turning purple, it was hard to deny that I wanted this—the dance and that dangerous smile. I wanted him. Before he’d showed up this month, I’d made my peace with never seeing him again. But now herehewas.
