“I kinda wondered that.” Rounding the drive, he started for the road following the trip directions on the dash screen. He reached for a bag in the backseat and handed it to me. “There’s a Brie and bacon croissant in there.”
Around my heart, the thin layer of ice melted the slightest bit.
“Thank you,” I said. I pulled the pastry out of the paper bag, reminding myself that a little bit of thoughtfulness or human decency didn’t absolve him of anything. I did not have to be cool with him. That didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the little breakfast he’d gotten me.
“You’re welcome. The café does use tree nut products, but that is nut free. That’s good enough, right?”
“Yes.” I snorted. “Again, I’m notthatallergic.”
His tone was strained, as if he was struggling to keep from sounding annoyed. “I want to be careful. I don’t want you to get sick—”
Shushing him, I held my hand out. “Just let me enjoy this.”
He rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything else.
The first bite of savory, flaky pastry wrapped around candied bacon and Brie cheese crunched between my teeth. I sighed, and he shifted in his seat. For a few moments, I considered whether baked goods was good enough to cause me to abandon my plan to stomp on Jamison’s toes during our dance lesson.
Taking a drink of the latte he’d gotten me, the welfare of his toes definitely looked better.
Then the memory of his body pressing me against the wall flashed so brightly in my mind that I could practically feel the force of him. I had to resist pressing my fingers to my suddenly tingling lips. A groan vibrated in my chest.
Setting my jaw, I turned to look out the passenger window.
I was gonna get dem toes.
***
Jamison turned into the little parking lot for the dance studio. It was in a row of old buildings that had been renovated, at some point in history this area was probably considered “downtown.” I hurried through the light rain to the front door and came to an abrupt stop when he reached from behind me to hold the door open. That was something I had liked when we would go out; he was always getting doors for me. Always making sure that I had a seat in a busy bar. Always seeing to my comfort.
Without wanting to, my eyes landed on his thumb resting at the top of the handle. The curve of square, clean fingernails, and the meat of his palm, the soft skin on the inside of his wrist. And I wondered if I’d ever touched my lips right there. Had I ever felt his pulse as he kissed me? Did I make his heart skip the way he did mine?
I swallowed, but I couldn’t get rid of the bitter taste in my mouth.
No, he didn’t feel for me what Iusedto feel for him.
So, he opened doors. So what?
He wasn’t rotten, and that was why I’d fallen for him in the first place.
Stepping through the door, I was greeted by the reflection of my damp image in the mirror. I swiped a hand over my hair in its ponytail, hoping to calm the frizz around my temples. Behind me a wall of red brick warmed the room and contrasted the light hardwood floor. On the other end of the mirror wall, an office door opened and a petite Black lady stepped out. A silk scarf was wrapped around her hair, and a flowing skirt trailed around her knees.
She grinned at us. “You must be Sadie and Eugene.”
“Eugene?!” I snapped my head in his direction and slapped a hand over my mouth. I was actually trying to let the name thing go, but...Eugene?!
He raised a warning eyebrow that I felt low in the pit of my stomach. To our instructor, he held out a hand to shake. “I go by Jamison, if you don’t mind.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Her smile was all warm brown eyes, and white teeth, even as she cast a curious glance between us. “I’m Miss Leslie, I’ll be your instructor. The bride asked that I just help you feel more comfortable moving together. So, we’ll do a couple of basic movements, and hand placements. Throw in a couple of showy twists, maybe a dip, just make ya look good.”
I managed a forced smile. “Fun.”
“Do either of you have experience with dancing?”
“Just at bars and stuff,” I answered.
Jamison crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the right. “I took two semesters of ballroom in undergrad.”
“You did?” I couldn’t make it fit in the image I had of him. “Did Mike and June know that?”
