He takes a long pull of his drink and swallows before he answers. “I’ve always thought you were pretty, Keri. There was never any doubt about that.”
I scowl and set my glass on the bar. “Then what was all that talk about how I can do better with my marketing photo? And how the image I use comes across as ‘stuffy’, huh?”
Suddenly, his large hand locks around my wrist in a squeeze, causing me to snap my mouth shut. The strong grip he has on me is undeniable, and a surge of warmth penetrates my skin. I feel like I’m in one of my good dreams, surrounded by laughter, music, and a handsome man touching me. And it’s a dream I’m about to wake up from. A dream someone like me isn’t supposed to have in the first place.
How many days have I sat at my desk, hoping for something different in my life as I stare out the window, watching shiny,happy people walk by, living out their lives? There is an empty space inside of me, and I’m well aware that I’ve pegged Adam as a much-needed distraction. A diversion so I don’t have to feel the ache of my loneliness.
“I’m sorry. There I go again, talking about work.”
“You do that a lot.” He agrees.
I sneak a sideways glance at him. Adam is brutally handsome. I like his long, tan fingers touching me and his messy, sun-streaked hair. His broad shoulders and warm, tawny eyes that remind me of caramel. The way his lean muscles in his exposed forearms rope under his skin. Never has a man looked so strong, so confident in who he is. I want to know more about him. But that would mean opening myself up and trusting him. I glance at him again, and I can practically feel the drag of his gaze over the fullness of my glossed lips. I want to trust him. That’s what I need.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, unclenching my wrist.
The immediate absence of his hot fingers on my skin is disappointing, and I don’t answer him right away. Instead, I watch him take another sip of his drink and lick his bottom lip, his eyes mapping my face and my blonde ponytail hanging over my shoulder. If he wanted casual Keri, he got the best version I could come up with.
“Well, I’ve got my dancing boots on.” I extend my long leg to show him, and I’m shocked when he slides his palm across my denim-covered calf.
“I can see that.”
I sit up a little straighter and touch the footrest of the bar stool with the tips of my boots. “But I don’t want to make your dance partner mad.”
He seems confused. “My dance partner?”
“Yes. I mean, if y’all are on a date…”
He cuts me off. “—You mean Lisa from Miss Jenny’s?”
I nod. And then we’re interrupted by his cell pinging in the air. I look down at it and see the name “Roxy” again.
“Do you need to get that?” I say.
“Nope. I’ll call her back.” He flips the phone over and looks right at me. “Keri, Lisa and I are just friends. I saw a familiar face in the crowd tonight, and we started talking. The band segued into her favorite song, and she asked me to dance. I’mnoton a date.” He stresses the word “not” intentionally.
My inner beauty queen does a backflip as I thwart a celebratory smile. But I’m a little worried about why this Roxy woman keeps calling. “Oh. Well, that’s good.” I lift my drink to my mouthand buy some time savoring the watered-down tequila, the ice clinking in my glass.
“When the band comes back, do you want to dance with me, Keri?”
I bat my lashes at him, aware of the slight tequila-laced, seductive smile unfurling from my lips.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Five
Adam
I couldn’t get Keri off the dance floor. We danced for a solid hour. We grooved to every single song in the set. I loved watching her come alive, her face beaming under the bright lights and her laughter pinging the air. Strands of her blonde hair escaping her ponytail, framing her pretty, smiling face with each hitch-kick and do-si-do. She clearly enjoyed herself, and so did I. We made quite a spectacle boot-scooting, two-stepping, and cowboy cha-cha-ing across the dance floor to the hoots and hollers of the musicians and several locals.
Scratch that.Iwas the bumbling spectacle following her lead. Keri cheered me on, looking like a seasoned performer from the hit TV show,Dancing with the Stars.
I’m glad when the trio slows things down, the lead singer’s haunting rendition of Willie Nelson’s song, “Angel Flying TooClose to the Ground,” allowing me to hold her in my arms for more than a quick two-step. We are dangerously close to one another, her sweet, heated body pressed against mine.
“Not bad for a California man,” she says. Her eyes are dazzling, and her grin is infectious.
“Just because you live in the South doesn’t mean you’re the only one who loves classic country music,” I tease.
She licks her dewy lips. I notice the peony blush shaping her cheeks. My fingers trace the soft sweater around her waist as she drapes her arms over my shoulders. Her scent, sweet as vanilla and berries, drifts under my nose. I like this version of Keri: mussed and relaxed in my arms. We sway to the slow rhythm, the air full of tender lyrics about love being the greatest healer.
