He watched my face closely, in a moment that seemed endless. His searching gaze made me feel shy; it was all too intimate, given that we were standing a foot apart and had barely so much as touched one another. Unless you counted the touch on the elbow… the briefest of handshakes…
I looked up, poised to ask him what he’d wanted to say that night, when the song changed to something slow, and Christopher held out a hand.
“Dance with me?” There was no hint of embarrassment in his voice. He was the same confident, cocky man he’d been back in July, but this time it was doingeverythingfor me. A three-alarmfire couldn’t have stopped me from taking his hand and following him onto the dance floor.
His palms grazed the bare skin of my midriff before settling around my waist. My body erupted with chills as I twined my arms around his neck. It was hard to look at him—and it was hard not to. His jaw was glazed with stubble, and his eyes were crinkled in a smile. He’d gotten a haircut; his light brown hair was neat and tidy on the sides but messy up top. I wondered if he’d styled it that way on purpose or if he had run his hands through it absentmindedly. I guessed the latter.
And his cologne—I’d never been able to resist a good man scent. It was my fatal weakness. Standing this close to him, with my face inches from the crook of his neck, it was all I could do not to lean in and take a big whiff.
After a few slow revolutions on the spot, he spoke.
“Rachel.” Now his voice was husky, a little unsure. He cleared his throat and tried again. “These last six months, I’ve thought about you more than I care to say. More than was appropriate, I’m sure.”
A bushfire erupted in my drawers. If the next words out of his mouth were that he’d wallpapered his house with images of my face with the eyes cut out, I still would want to jump him. But I bottled my lust up inside and gazed at him with polite puzzlement. Like a lady.
“Everything I’ve done the last few months has been with you in mind,” he continued. “You’ve been my conscience. The angel on my shoulder.”
A snort escaped me—I couldn’t help it. Me, an angel, honestly. His fingers tightened convulsively around my waist and a smoldering look crossed his face before he let out a little laugh.
“I know.” His voice was rough as he leaned closer. “You, an angel?” His breath ruffled my hair, and all laughter ceased immediately as the breath caught in my throat. “But it’s true. I consulted you—the Rachel in my mind—for every decision. You made me try harder. To be a good person.”
Something in his voice had broken; it quavered, whether with lust or emotion I didn’t know. My mouth worked, trying unsuccessfully to form a response.
Finally I managed a small “I’m glad.”
“And,” I added, suddenly fearing I’d been very rude, “thank you. For everything you’ve done for my family. Thank you so—”
“Don’t thank me. It was selfish, all of it. I did it because I—”
The slow song ended; the music blared suddenly, and colorful lights flashed. Some sort of group dance was starting, and I couldn’t have cared less.
“What?” I shouted over the deafening noise.
“Because I—” he shouted back, and people were dancing around us, and there was a sudden fear in his eyes.
“Say it, Christopher Butkus.” Flashing lights played across his face. “I dare you.”
There was a crescendo in the music and he let out a sort of groan and buried his face in my neck.
He picked me up and spun me around, not caring that half of the wedding guests were staring at us. “I love you, Rachel Weiss. And if there’s anything I can ever do to—”
I launched myself toward him, only vaguely aware of the whistles and cheers that surrounded us as I finally,finallykissed Christopher Butkus. We were in the center of a dancing circle, and all of a sudden flower petals were raining down on us. We looked up and laughed, pink and white petals sprinkling onto our cheeks and hair. Everyone oohed and aahed, twirling around and raisingtheir arms to the gentle downpour. I felt, as I brushed a petal from Christopher’s smooth cheek, like my face might split in half from smiling so wide. He tugged my hand and spun me in against his chest and then out again, and I knew in my bones that I would remember this moment for the rest of my life.
“Welcome to my humble abode.”
We were back in my apartment. It was very late, and we’d been sent home with a box of leftover wedding cake.
“I’ve always wondered where exactly you lived.” Christopher took off his jacket and hung it on the hook by the door.
“Did I ever tell you I saw your house on Halloween?” Damn. Of course I’d never told him that. I was just tipsy. Not as tipsy as I should have been after my friend’s wedding—but after that kiss, I’d been too distracted to keep drinking.
“You did?” He tilted his head, surprised.
“Please don’t run away, I’m not a stalker, I swear. I was walking home and I saw you giving candy to trick-or-treaters.”
“Why didn’t you say hello?” He sounded so innocent, and it reminded me of one of the things I liked about him: he was genuine, not snarky or jaded.
“Because.” I laughed like it was obvious. “We sort of hated each other until tonight. Or until Thanksgiving, I guess.”
