Carina swatted her arm, and Whitney flashed her a look.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at around six forty-five, then.” He hesitated. “On one condition.”
“What’s the one condition?”
“If there’s any two-stepping, you save me a dance,” he said.
She didn’t know what came over her, but she blurted out, “You can write your name on every line on my dance card, cowboy.”
Carina and Olivia high-fived.
Whitney hung up. “I can’t believe I said that. I actually have to look him in the face later.”
“So what? It was cute, the dance card and all that. You’re a great two-stepper.”
“It’s been years since I’ve two-stepped. The last time was at Uncle Blake’s birthday party like eight years ago.”
“Well, come on. Get up,” Carina said.
“What?”
“Come on. We’ll practice.” Carina held her hands up and she and Whitney two-stepped around her office. “See, you’re fine.” Carina unexpectedly spun her around, and Whitney let out a squeak.
“Well, you be ready for spins. Just in case,” Carina said, laughing. “You still have those lucky cowboy boots you used to wear all the time?” Carina asked.
“Yes, and I plan to wear them.”
Chapter
Seventeen
Matthew hung up the phone and shoved it into his back pocket. With the finishing touches nearly done on the mural, he had a free afternoon. He was kicking himself for not thinking to talk Whitney into doing both lunch today, and the thing tomorrow night.
Then again, that may have seemed too eager.
Do I really care if she knows I’m eager?
He dipped his brush back in the paint and swept one continuous line along the bottom of the cloud in the sky, giving it a bit more dimension. What’s wrong with being eager, anyway?
He didn’t like a bunch of drama and games. He wanted everything to be transparent. Say what you mean and just be happy with what you get.
Matthew climbed down the scaffold and eyeballed the mural. Never trusting his eyes, he took pictures from several angles and then went and sat on a paint bucket to zoom in on different areas to catch what he might have missed.
Happy with the results, he walked over and signed the wall.
“Done.”
He got into his truck and moved it as close as he could to load everything. Disassembling the lightweight aluminumplanks from overhead, he repeated the process until he got to the ground.
The good thing about doing it yourself was you knew it got done right. It took time to get it all taken apart, stacked, lowered, and ready to load.
He’d just finished loading the last of the planks when he heard something behind him.
He ignored it at first, but when it didn’t stop, he turned and realized the popping was actually someone clapping in a slow, steady beat. It was Whitney.
Pulling his earbuds out, he waved. “Hey there.”
“It’s finished!”
