Page 78 of Lavender Lake
I grinned at him. “You dance?”
“I do.” He winked.
“Well, this, I have to see.” I slid out of the booth and Bowman followed. Hadley momentarily looked at us before returning her attention to Gracie.
Bowman headed for the vintage jukebox which still took coins. He pulled out a quarter from his pocket and fed it into the machine, and then he pressed a few buttons. A moment later, the sound of a fiddle blasted through the speakers.
I let out a laugh and took Bowman’s offered hand. He led me toward the center of the room and several people who congregated in the area backed up when they saw us take the floor.
I wasn’t sure if it was the bourbon or the way Bowman smiled at me while we line danced, but my head was light and happinessbubbled inside me. Others joined and soon we had a herd of customers on the floor with us.
When the song ended, I attempted to catch my breath. Bowman grabbed my hand and dragged me to the bar.
“Shots?” I asked.
“Why not?” he said.
“Don’t tell Hadley. She thinks I can’t hold my liquor.”
“No?”
“Wine yes, liquor no.”
“I won’t tell her.”
“Good man.”
Bowman signaled to Chelsea who poured us two shots of rye whiskey.
We downed them quickly.
“Another round of shots?” Chelsea asked.
“No way,” I said, touching my heated cheeks. “But maybe another Manhattan?”
“And I’ll take another beer,” Bowman said, reaching for his wallet.
“Put that away,” I said to him. “We’re drinking on Wade’s tab tonight.”
Once we had our drinks, neither of us seemed inclined to hurry back to the table. Bowman’s eyes held mine as he took a drink of his beer.
“You’re a good dancer,” I said.
“I’m better at slow dances.”
His voice was deep and raspy, and it made me shiver.
I loved the idea of him pulling me close and holding onto me. I was taller than the average woman, but Bowman towered over me and it made me feel protected. Cared for.
He took a step toward me and brought his hand to my hip.
I didn’t push him away.
I moved ever so slightly closer.
“Powell.”
“Bowman.”
