Page 26 of Moonshine Kiss
“I really need to start opening my newsletters,” Cassidy joked. I could tell she felt as awkward as I did over the topic.
I sat back in my chair and forced myself to relax. We yelled over the music, and I tried not to want to punch Amos in the face when he looped his arm over the back of Cassidy’s chair. When the band shifted gears into something low and slow, I went with it.
“Wanna dance, Cass?”
The table shut up right quick, and Cassidy blinked. She was a sucker for Chris Stapleton, and “Tennessee Whiskey” was one of his best.
“All right,” she said slowly.
I stood and held my hand out to her. She took it after the slightest hesitation, and I led her onto the dance floor. It was crowded with bodies swaying and sliding. I pulled her into the darkest corner and thanked the sweet baby Jesus when she slid her arms around my neck.
I didn’t care what anybody said. This wasright.
We ticked and tocked with the slow beat. I’d shed my suit jacket and loosened my tie at the table. Cassidy had pulled the pins out of her hair. Here we were halfway between who we were every day and who we were on special occasions.
I thought she’d talk. Ask me why I’d asked her to dance. But she kept her eyes glued to me as we worked our way around in a lazy little circle. I felt her fingers playing with the ends of my hair and pulled her close enough that neither one of us could pretend this was a friendly dance.
Our faces were close. Cassidy’s heels put her within easy kissing distance. I could feel her breath on my neck. Could see her pulse flutter at the base of her throat. I wondered what she was seeing of me up close and personal.
We’d danced before. About a hundred times over the course of our lives. But this was different. And I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the clothes. Maybe it was the challenge from the newsletter. I was a Bodine after all. Tell us we can’t do something and watch us do it with both middle fingers flying proudly.
“People are gonna talk,” Cassidy said softly.
“About what?”
“This. Us. Showin’ up here all fancy and then slow dancin’.”
Her lips were that rose petal pink that I found absolutely irresistible. I stopped myself from tracing my thumb over her full lower lip.
“Does that bother you?” I asked, sliding my palm over the small of her back.
She shook her head. “Don’t much care. Besides, we know the truth.”
“What truth?” I asked. Every inch of her was pressed against every inch of me. I could feel the heat rising off of her.
“That I’m nothin’ but your little sister’s best friend.”
“You’ve never been just my little sister’s best friend, trouble.”
My old nickname for her made us both smile a little.
The song was over. The band was kicking it up again with an East Coast swing. Cassidy was unwinding her arms from my neck, but I didn’t want to be done touching her yet. I squeezed her slim hips with both palms, keeping her against me for just a second longer.
She brushed her hands across my chest. “Thanks for the ride and the dance, Bow.”
13
Cassidy
Minnie’s Meow Meow House was indeed a house. The low wooden structure had started as a simple cabin but had been added on to in weird and wonderful ways, making it a rambling haven for homeless cats. It smelled like fresh cat litter and the special catnip potpourri Minnie Faye made especially for her charges.
Minnie Faye and her husband, Hubert, had a soft spot for strays. Together with their gigantic hearts, they’d built a rainbow of a family, first with foster and adopted children and now with fur babies.
Minnie Faye was currently in the Meow Meow House’s front office scrutinizing my nine-page adoption application, my three reference letters, and credit report.
“What about that one?” Scarlett pointed at an orange ball of fluff hanging upside down from his spacious cage’s ceiling. His meow was closer to a shriek.
We were in Cat Room Number Two. Each room had a different theme. This one was kitten posters. They’d plastered the green pine-paneled walls in a glossy, fluffy mural of cute.
