Page 115 of Into the Mist

“That’s not all I do well.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” Ford led her through a series of intricate spins and turns that caused her dress to swirl alluringly around her and had her laughing like a girl.

The Springsteen song ended, and Toby Keith began singing about how he “Should’ve Been a Cowboy.” Ford easily changed tempo and continued to guide her around the dance floor.

“So, before the apocalypse what did you like to do besides hike and dance?” Mercury asked as she followed Ford’s lead.

“I’m a big bike rider, an amateur foodie, and I also like going to the movies.”

“Bike as in motorcycle or bike as in pedal?” she asked.

“Pedal, for sure,” he said. “And I love books. Powell’s—that’s a big independent bookstore in Portland—used to be my favorite place to spend a rainy Sunday afternoon.”

“You read? For pleasure?”

He laughed. “Absolutely. Why do you look so shocked?”

Mercury opened her mouth—thought better of what she was about to say—closed it, and reconsidered her response. As Ford held her close, she finally said, “I’ve been trying to figure out how to answer that without sounding like a man-hater and I’m not being very successful.”

Ford grinned. “It’s not man-hating to tell me you haven’t met a lot of grown-up men who read for pleasure. I don’t know many besides the men in my family either.”

“Well, good. Then that’s my answer. What kind of books do you like?”

“I read across genres. The truth is that I hate genre labels. I think they keep people from reading.”

“Oh my Goddess! I’ve been saying that for years! Like, even though there are some awesome romance books that I know my male students would love—because they’re labeledromance, it’s almost impossible to get guys to give them a try.”

Ford nodded. “Exactly. I really enjoy science-fiction and fantasy—especially sci-fi/fantasy written by women.” He grinned at her shocked expression. “Women tend to add more complex character development and—get this—sexto the genre. I enjoy both.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Mercury studied him with new eyes as they moved together around the dance floor. “What’s one of your fav sci-fi or fantasy books?”

“That’s easy. I love the queen of sci-fi/fantasy, Anne McCaffery.”

Mercury thumped him on his broad chest. “Get out! Pern is my go-to comfort world!”

Ford’s grin was boyish with enthusiasm. “Hey, I’ve always wanted to be Jaxom and Impress my own white dragon.”

Mercury laughed. “I named my first dog Ramoth, after Lessa’s golden queen dragon.”

“No way! When I was a boy I called my bike Mnementh and used to pretend that I was riding on the back of a dragon.”

“F’lar’s big bronze dragon!” Mercury’s cheeks hurt from grinning at him—not that she minded.

“Small world,” Ford said as his amber gaze met and held hers.

“Small world,” she said, still smiling up at him.

The Toby Keith song ended and the next began, with Tina Turner singing “What’s Love Got to Do with It?”

Mercury stepped out of Ford’s arms and blotted her face. “This is an excellent song, but not great to dance to, and I’m really thirsty.”

“Want to get something to drink?”