Page 10 of The Second Dance
“It’s not yours to give up.” She pulls her arm out of my hand and steps away, tripping in one of the deep furrows in the lane.
Time slows down.
I catch her automatically, drawing her up alongside my body. Her hands are braced on my chest and those thighs are tangled between my legs.
I can hold her easily.
I can let her walk away, too.
But for a few heartbeats too long, I keep her in my arms.
Here’s my ideal type. Here’s the prototype of a woman I’ve been chasing for almost a decade.
She pushes off my chest. “Get off me.”
Stung, I let her go.
She stomps over to her car, pausing just before climbing inside. “I’m not giving up this ground. As long as your mom wants to give it to the Songbird Foundation, you can go jump in a lake.”
I watch her car struggle down the dirt lane.
Well, fuck.
That did not go as planned.
6.
Andy
The bar is packed. I recognize a lot of people, most of whom I’d rather not talk to. I scan the crowd, feeling drained and out of place before spotting her.
Whit is a sight for sore eyes.
We’ve been friends since fifth grade, and I have always leaned on her when things get tough. Nobody’s got your back like a best friend.
I weave my way through tables, climbing onto a stool next to her. She grins at me. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“I could. And you look like a baby blue dream.”
She glances down at her light blue dress. “Thanks for sending me this one. I love it. What would I do if I didn’t have my personal stylist sending me random clothing items?”
“If I sent you everything that made me think of you, you’d need a storage unit.”
The truth is, Whit’s got one of those bodies that can do off-the-rack. I buy her the dresses I wish I could squeeze into. Maybe I’ve been living vicariously through her willowy frame all these years.
“Did you meet your farmer today?”
I lean my elbows on the bar, burying my face in my hands. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“That bad?”
“So bad.” I tilt my head, peeking at her through my hair. “Two words. Bo. Thomas.”
“No.” Whit gasps. She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Jesus, Andy. I’m so sorry. Are you going to tell your boss you can’t do it?”
I sit up. “Why would I do that?”
Whit looks surprised. “Oh. Just. Because of your past with Bo. You can’t work with him, can you?”
