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Leo, writing music? My eyes caught on his fingers still tapping against the table, and it made sense—all the times I’d noticed his body moving as though he were listening to a private performance. “Is that why you have those instruments in the spare bedroom? The piano and the guitars?”
He nodded, cheeks flushing pink. “Yeah. I like to play . . . or—” He broke off, tilted his head pensively. “I guess I did.”
If the slight downturn of his lips were any indication, this wasn’t an easy topic for him. I felt compelled to know why. “You don’t anymore?”
He took a long sip of his beer and I watched the column of his throat work around a swallow. And then he shook his head. “No.”
Bullshit, I wanted to say. But it would make me a hypocrite to press into his bruise.
I nearly jumped out of my seat as a loud whistle sounded from the bar. I turned to find Marge with her hands thrown above her head, grinning like she’d just won a hundred bucks on a scratch ticket. The opening song from Footloose played out of the jukebox, and you would have thought Kevin Bacon himself walked through the front door with how fast Leo shot from his chair. “No fucking way!” he burst, his dimples on full display. It knocked something loose inside of my chest, that ache shifting into something liquid and molten like the amber of his beer.
I laughed as he hustled to the middle of the bar where two guys were already moving tables and chairs out of the way to create a makeshift dance floor. He jumped right in without skipping a beat, pulling two chairs against the wall as Marge sashayed from the bar, coming to stand between Leo and the others from the biker group who were all definitely a little more than buzzed.
As the lyrics started, all six of them kicked into the synchronized movement of a line dance, and the sight of such an eclectic group coming together sent my heart tumbling. Leo’s eyes never left mine as the tips of his boots tapped the floor in perfect rhythm with the others. Not for the first time, I felt pinned by his gaze. There was a mischievous tilt to his lips and a shimmer in his eyes as he curled his finger, beckoning me over to join them.
I waved my hands in front of me to communicate a clear No way in hell response.
He laughed out loud, eyes crinkling as the group jumped and twisted to face the bar, continuing the dance. Still, his eyes stayed rooted on me, brows quirking as if to say Get your ass up here.
Country dancing had never been my thing—I didn’t have a rhythmic bone in my body—but I couldn’t ignore the tug in my chest insisting I get up and join him, to follow the joy that was so clearly written all over his face. I wanted to feel it in myself.
So before I could think twice, I pushed myself off the stool and walked toward him. I didn’t miss the way his cheeks widened when he saw me coming, or the incandescent fire in his eyes as he scooted closer to the ponytailed man next to him so I could squeeze between him and Marge in line.
While Leo nailed every step with surefire accuracy, I fumbled like an idiot trying to keep up, laughing so hard my stomach hurt as I kicked a foot up when everyone else leaned over and clapped. Both he and Marge tried to show me the steps as we went on, and for a handful of breaths I thought I’d caught on, only to lose all sense of it when the quicker footwork came in before the next twist. But despite my horrible execution, I felt lighter than I had in months . . . years, even.
Gone were all my bearings, all of the worn footholds into the boundaries of control I’d woven so fiercely around me. I eventually stopped trying to keep up with the dance, shimmying myself closer to Leo instead as I gulped down a real, honest-to-god deep breath that seemed to only shift his warmth into my lungs. I wanted to share in the high he was emanating, wanted to suck down his happiness like second-hand smoke, as if it were curling around me for the taking. Our eyes snagged again, and I found myself wondering how this beautiful man had ever let anyone steal his light.
I realized his concern for me earlier might not have been so different from the way I scrutinized him now, taking in the way he shined so brightly, in such opposition from the way he allowed dark clouds to dim his light at home. I decided I would apologize later, to make an even stronger effort of this truce blossoming between us.
But for now, we danced.
Eventually the song ended, and everyone scattered back to their places around the bar as the new slower melody started. Leo looked down at me with a longing that glittered with hope, raising a hand and slotting it neatly against my hip. He wove his other hand into mine, and before I knew it we were swaying and humming along to “I Cross My Heart.” Emotion burst out of me in a wave so sudden I had to press my cheek against his chest, hoping the moisture in my eyes wouldn’t wet his shirt.
“I needed this,” he said, exhaling out a contented sigh over the top of my head. His honesty was like a shot of bourbon—it made me feel dizzy and alive.
I smiled into his flannel, basking in the smell of his soap. “I did too. More than you know.”
“We haven’t even gotten to our assignment,” he remarked, and it took me a moment to place the meaning of his words, until I felt my heart deflate remembering the contract . . . the dinner tomorrow. Our fake relationship. This night was supposed to be about preparing.
But I wasn’t ready to let this feeling go yet, so I started a new internal countdown—like I’d done before. I would let myself sink into this heat for just a couple more minutes before I pulled myself into the cold of the loneliness he’d just called me out on. “I think we met each other at a bar just like this,” I managed to say.
Leo hummed, and though my face was still planted against his chest, I imagined he was smiling. “You, in this dress,” he said, his voice low. “You were definitely wearing this dress.”
My heart filled with so much need that I was floating on it. “And you, with that smile.”
“You like my smile?”
My palm moved slowly down his spine as I memorized the slope. “Shitty places like this suit you.”
His shoulders shook with a quiet laugh. I pulled my head back, facing up to find his teeth flashing as he beamed down at me. He was so handsome it hurt. The hand on my hip skated along my dress, winding against the small of my back until his arm was fully around me, pulling me in closer until our hips and chests pressed together.
We continued to slow dance, stuck in each other’s eyes, before I felt the tip of his nose graze along mine as his face fell closer. His mouth was inches from where I wanted him most—just a small shift and my lips would catch fire against his. But he didn’t close the gap, leaving the distance for me to decide what to do with.
My countdown hit zero, and I promptly started it again.
“Mara,” he whispered, his eyes falling to my mouth. “Is it wrong to tell you that I can’t stop thinking about you? About our night together? I’ve missed you so much.”
I couldn’t help myself as I pressed my lips to where his dimple was currently sheathed, feeling the day’s worth of stubble bite against my flesh. “I hate that I’ve missed you, too,” I admitted. His hand flexed against my back, and I knew if I didn’t save myself now, I’d sink into him so completely I’d never be able to get out. Leo was quicksand—he’d swallow me whole. So I pulled away. Forcing a smile, I continued the story. “We fell in love fast,” I said, certain in some other life it would be true.
