Page 63 of Sew Matcha in Love
There was no dance card, of course. But if there had been, I’d have let him write his name on every line. But he had a point—three dances with the nannywasprobably pushing the friend-zone line.
Gah! I couldn’t deny my attraction to him or that my heart cared about him more than it should.
I couldn’t deny that when I read my historical novels, I pictured his face on the hero.
And I couldn’t deny that, had circumstances been different and he had plans to stay in Colorado, I might take a chance on something more than friendship.
“I’d like to keep dancing with you, too,” I said.
So much for restraint.
“I’m glad. It feels like I’m in another world, dancing here with you.”
“Pretending to be in the past can help medicate a present that isn’t well,” I said softly. “It’s meant to be an escape. A temporary one, of course. We can be in this world of nineteenth-century finery but notofit.”
“Yes. I should escape more often. Maybe you’d join me? I’m sure there are Regency balls and galas one can attend regularly?”
“I, um—yes. The closest is Once Upon a Dream Ball in Denver, but there are countless others.” His head was still bent next to mine. I slid my hand from the back of his neck around to his lapel and moved in closer so that we were almost nose to nose. “Why?”
“This elegant world of the past suits you,” he said. “You have a timeless quality about you, fitting in here like you were born for the era, not in the chaos of the modern world.”
I smiled, warmed by his words. “You’re surprisingly poetic for a rough-and-tumble defenseman who pranks his friends for fun.”
The glint of mischief I loved returned to his eyes. “What can I say? I see beauty, deep to the core, natural, effortless beauty in front of me, and I can’t not comment.”
My breath hitched, and for a moment, the world truly did fall away.
His gaze dropped to my lips, just for an instant, before returning to my eyes. It was barely noticeable, but it sent a rush of heat through me.
“Arwyn,” he said, his voice so low it rumbled. “There’s something I want to tell you. But I’m not sure if I should.”
I opened my mouth to respond as the final note of the song hung in the air. Applause erupted around us, shattering the fragile bubble we’d created and giving me time to formulate a response.
I stepped back and somehow pulled my hands together to join in the clapping. Zaki’s hand lingered at my waist before he brought his fingers to his mouth and whistled.
My mind spun with questions I wasn’t ready to ask and feelings I wasn’t ready to name. The emcee announced theorchestra’s break and handed control over to the DJ, who began to play a blend of upbeat music.
And still, I couldn’t speak.
Brendan appeared next to Zaki, and they appeared to exchange some sort of signal.
“Stay here.” He winked. “The show’s about to start.”
“The show?” I echoed.
“No idea,” Brenna said from behind me. I turned, and she shrugged. “They’re up to something. All we can do is wait and hope not to be part of it.”
I was sure I looked like a deer in headlights. “Excuse me?”
The blond ringlets framing her face bounced as she chuckled. “Just a hunch.”
I followed the trajectory of her gaze, and sure enough, Zaki and Brendan were jogging up the side steps of the stage, each with a mic in hand. They’d removed their tailcoats, rolled up their sleeves, and donned dark sunglasses.
I gulped.
But he’d said I could trust him. He knew I was as introverted as they came and I preferred to be anywhere alone than in this crowd.
With every muscle in my body, I resisted the urge to run.
