“Generous of you.”
“I’m a very generous person.”
This time, he did smile.A smile that was full and genuine, the kind that crinkled the corners of his eyes.Her heart beat in a quick rhythm.
The song changed to something slower.More couples moved onto the makeshift dance floor near the gazebo.
He cleared his throat.“Would you want to dance?”
She blinked.“What?”
“Dance.”He gestured toward the gazebo.“It’s a fundraiser.There’s music.People are dancing.”
“I know what a dance is, Bryan.”
“Then why are you stalling?”
Because dancing with him felt dangerous.Because every moment she spent in this town made her old life feel more like a costume she’d outgrown.
“I’m not stalling,” she said.“I’m considering.”
“Consider faster.”He held out his hand.
She looked at his palm, calloused and scarred from years of hauling nets and fixing engines.Nothing like the soft, manicured hands of the executives she used to network with at corporate events.
She placed her hand in his.
The dance floor was crowded enough that they had to stand close.Bryan’s hand settled on her waist, warm through the thin fabric of her dress.She rested her hand on his shoulder and tried to remember how to breathe normally.
“You’re tense,” he said.
“I’m not tense.”
“Your shoulders are up by your ears.”
She forced herself to relax.“Better?”
“Marginally.”
They swayed to the music.She was acutely aware of every point of contact between them.His hand on her waist.Her palm against his shoulder.Their joined hands between them.
This was fine.This was just a dance.People danced at fundraisers all the time.It didn’t mean anything.
Except it did mean something.She knew it did.
“You’re thinking too loud,” he said as he smiled at her.
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“Liar.”
She looked up and found him watching her with an expression that was far too knowing.She wanted to deflect, make a joke, and change the subject to something safe like vendor contracts or parking logistics.
Instead, she said, “I’m thinking that this is nice.”
His hand tightened slightly on her waist.“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”The admission felt reckless.“I can’t remember the last time I did something like this.Something that wasn’t attached to an outcome or a goal.”
