Her nose bunches as if something rotten is under her nose before a phony, practiced smirk slithers onto her glossed lips. “Oh, gosh, Beau, I hadno idea.” He tilts his head at her, like he’s confused about the condescension coming from her voice.
I tug on his hand, drawing his attention back to me.Not worth it, I try to project into his mind, and he huffs a silent, unamused laugh.
“We’ll see you in there,” he finally says. It’s an obvious dismissal, and she scoffs before sashaying past us and opening the door, freeing a momentarily loud blast of twangy music.
“Beau, we don’t have to do this.” Keeping him safe and cozy inside that closet suddenly seems like a much better idea than I originally believed. “We can just go back to your house and hang out. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
Sad but determined eyes find mine, seemingly a deeper blue, as he crooks a smile at me. “You deserve to be shown off,” he says simply, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth that sends my heart rocketing straight into the sky. “So, let’s go show you off.”
He doesn’t release my hand as we step inside, and my eyes sweep over the large, open room, milling with people. I finally spot the sign, and it sets me off in a fit of horrified laughter.
“Line dancing!?” I demand over the twang of steel guitar, and his grin could light up the entire town. “Oh, Beau, I’m so uncoordinated,” I wail, and he laughs as he squeezes my hand.
“Just follow my lead, darlin’.” He whisks me off to the dance floor, earlier stress forgotten. We dance and spin and twirl, trip and stumble andlaughas everyone stares, but Beau doesn’t care.
He’s too busy looking at me to notice.
I may never get used to having to climb a literal ladder to get inside Beau’s truck, but he holds my hand as he helps me, and I smile at the thoughtfulness. The muscles in my cheeks ache, sore from the non-stop smiling. We danced for hours, and I made an absolute fool of myself trying to keep up with the steps, but he didn’t care, so neither did I.
We’re both damp with sweat as he cranks the engine, and I choke back a laugh when he gives a fluttering wave to Sandra. We pull into the steakhouse parking lot, and my stomach lets out a lion's roar at the mouth-watering smell.
Beau reaches for me, weaving our fingers together as we walk inside. He requests a booth, trying to hide hissmile at my surprise when he slides in beside me instead of across.
“You’ve never told me about your job,” he says, and I’m thankful he’s staring at the menu as my eyes flare in panic.
“Oh, well,” I stutter, and he gives me a furrowed sideways glance. “I, uh, work in PR… in public, um, relations.”
Real convincing, Az. A-plus for believability.
“That’s one of those professions you hear about on TV, but never meet anyone that does it. What do youactuallydo in PR?”
“Well…” My voice comes out as a squeak before I clear my throat. “Basically, I make sure that relationships succeed. I check out both sides to, um, verify they’re compatible before they… go into business together.”
There. That was better.
“Do you enjoy it?”
After a moment’s consideration, I give a slow nod. Despite the absolute anarchy that has followed me around since I was appointed The Cupid, I revel in watching couples as their connection forms. Their joy when they realize they might have a partner… someone they mesh with, body and soul.
Someone to spend their lives with.
“Yeah, I really do,” I say, voice quiet.
He slides his hand into mine. “Well, that’s all that matters.”
“Debatable,” I mumble, and his attention fixes on me like a laser. “I…” Those ocean-deep eyes meet mine, encouraging me to continue with no signs of judgement. “I told you I’m not the fastest learner in the world. Plenty of people would say I’m not exactly great at what I do.” A self-deprecating sigh pushes from my nose. “Doesn’t matter how much I love it if I can’t do it well. There are… lots of things I’m not particularly good at, as it turns out.”
“What’s something you want to get better at?”
I respond without thinking. “Archery.”
“If you gave me a hundred guesses, I don't think I would've gotten that one right,” he says with a quiet, breathylaugh. “But luckily for you, it just so happens I’m pretty skilled at archery. If you’re interested, I’d love to help you work out the kinks.”
My cheeks tinge, both from happiness at his offer and the sheer dirty pleasure I get from hearing him say the wordkinks. “You’d do that for me?”
His sweat-heightened spicy scent surrounds me as he leans in, his sincerity written in the gentle curve of his smile. “We’re both figuring out there’s not much I wouldn’t do for you, aren’t we?” My gaze falls to his mouth, so close to mine, then returns to his eyes.
My lips part, whether to respond or to kiss him, we’ll never know, because a clatter of dishes makes both of us jump as we separate.
