“Are you having a good time?” I ask.
She nods and lifts her gaze to mine. “I am. Thank you for this.”
My brow creases. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m the one who should be thanking you, Miss Dance-Pants.” She throws her head back and laughs again, her audible expression of joy a thrill to my senses. “Seriously, Keri. Where did you learn to move like that? Did you take lessons or something?”
She chews on her lower lip to suppress another smile and shakes her head. “You don’t want to know.”
I squeeze my hands around her waist. “Oh, but I do.”
The song ends, and we break apart, clapping for the Franklin Trio before they take another break. I lean into her ear. “I need to check on Molly. You wanna come with me?”
Her smile is immediate, as if she’s pleased I asked. “Sure. Give me a minute to freshen up and close out my tab.”
“Okay.”
I wait by the bar, finishing the last sip of watered-down club soda. Janie approaches, her expression filled with delight.
“Y’all were tearing it up out there. Would you like a refill?” She points to my empty glass, and I wave her away.
“No thanks. And I’ll have you know, Keri’s the dancer. I was just following her lead.”
“Like all the other smitten fellas around here. Boy howdy, she wasn’t about to let anyone else cut in. No, sir. Our determined Angel Face is something else. When she finds something she likes, she holds onto it.”
“‘Angel Face?’”
Janie snickers. “It’s Keri’s nickname from high school. But don’t you be tellin’ her I told you that. She’d kill me.”
The Willie Nelson song we just danced to suddenly takes on a whole new meaning, the lyrics still thrumming through my head.
“So… you think Keri likes me, then?” I wiggle my eyebrows, making Janie laugh.
“Oh, yeah. In all my years, I’ve never seen that pretty girl buy another fella a drink at my bar. You must’ve done something nice for her to want to do that.”
My smile falters. If Janie knew the real reason Keri bought me a drink, she might be singing a different tune. I’m a jerk for boldly critiquing her marketing photo. I shouldn’t have done that. I feel bad.
Keri is suddenly by my side, her lips glistening from a fresh swipe of gloss and her hair slicked back into place. She’s perfect. “Are you ready? Or do you want another drink?”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Great.”
I watch her signal Janie, settle her tab, and blow the woman a perky kiss before we head for the exit. I also notice how several men in the room track the sway of her hips as she sashays out of the bar, utterly carefree. She isn’t tipsy, nor is she trying; it’s effortless. It’s as if she’s been taught to walk with her head held high and her model stride on full display.
“Oh, that was so fun,” she sighs, once we’re outside.
“It was. And thanks again for the drink.”
“It was water, Adam. I hardly call that a drink.” She giggles.
“Well, I do have to drive tonight.”
“Responsible too? I like that.”
We meander across the ancient sidewalk under the moonlit sky, the spring air surrounding us turned cooler in the early evening. I inhale a deep, cleansing breath.
“So, Angel Face…”
“—Who told you?” she snaps, stopping on the pavement. She’s adorable, standing there with her hands pressed defiantly against her hips.
