“You’re having fun without a productivity metric?”
“Apparently.”
“Careful, Wren.People might think you’re human.”
She laughed.Actually laughed, light and surprised.
They turned in a slow circle.The Harbor Ladies passed by with knowing smiles.Cassidy caught Dorothy’s eye and felt her cheeks warm.
“They’re going to talk,” she murmured.
“They’re already talking,” he said.“Have been since the committee meeting where you told me my marketing strategy was garbage.”
“I did not say it was garbage.”
“You said it was functionally invisible.That’s worse.”
“Well, it was.Invisible, I mean.”
He grinned.“And now look at us.Dancing at the fundraiser for a festival you’re organizing.”
“You’re helping too.”
“I mostly argue with you.”He grinned.
“True.”She tilted her head.“But you come around eventually.”
“Because you wear me down.”
“Because I’m right.”
He chuckled.“Also true.”
The song shifted into something even slower.Couples drew closer together.Bryan’s thumb traced along her waist, probably unconsciously.
This was a terrible idea.She was leaving in three more weeks.Her sabbatical would end, and she’d go back to Chicago.Back to her apartment and her career and the life she’d spent years building.
Except that life felt like it belonged to someone else now.
“You’re doing it again,” Bryan said.
“Doing what?”
“Thinking too loud.”
She wanted to deny it, but what was the point?He could read her too easily now.Somewhere along the way, he’d learned to see past her carefully constructed walls.
“I’m just wondering if I’m going to regret this,” she said honestly.
His expression grew serious.“The dance?”
“All of it.”She met his eyes.“The festival.This town.You.”
The word hung between them, heavy and terrifyingly true.
He was quiet for a long moment.When he spoke, his voice was rough.“Would regret be so bad?”
“What?”
