Page 29 of Sweet Devotion

“Sorry. Yes. I suppose I like to dance.”

“Looks simple enough. Shall we give it a go?”

“Your hip?”

“Might give me a hitch in my gettalong, but under the circumstances, it should blend right in.”

“All right.” Pushing to her feet, she was delighted to find her hand in his once again. She was even more delighted to discover that somehow two-stepping to music eliminated the limp much the way singing helped hide a stutter.

For the next twenty minutes they moved around the floor bumping into the occasionally wayward couple or tripping over someone with two left feet who couldn’t follow a straight line if it were painted in neon. To her surprise, all Aiden did was laugh. She’d expected more seriousness, even annoyance. Instead, he took it all in stride, laughed and kept dancing. A time or two he’d twirl her and be right there as she spun back in. That made her smile wide. Not since college had she had so much fun two-stepping.

The music came to an end and once again he took her hand, escorting her off the floor when a surprise came over the speakers. Not the expected country tune they were used to, but an old song from one of the pre war big bands. She hesitated, listening, trying to place it when the DJ made another announcement. In celebration for Randy and Julia’s fiftieth anniversary, they would play a round of requested tunes. Another minute and it was pretty obvious who Randy and Julia were. Probably somewhere between septuagenarian and octogenarians, the gray haired couple seemed to be fit as fiddles and quite talented. When Randy spun his wife out and then twirled her in behind his back only to capture her on the other side and almost fling her over his shoulder, Colleen muttered, “That’s the jitterbug.”

“They’re good.”

Colleen bobbed her head. She felt Aiden’s squeeze on her hand tighten and knew what he was going to say.

“Let’s give it a whirl.”

“I don’t dance like that. I don’t think I know anyone—besides Randy and Julia—who can dance like that.”

The way his eyes sparkled and the corner of his lips tipped north, she was sure she was about to see another side of Aiden Boglioli.

Chapter Twelve

What the heck was he thinking? What normal intelligent human being invites a girl to dance to swing music with a bum hip? Maybe he was not as smart as he thought, but it was too late to back out now. Her hand in his, a smile on her face as wide as the Mississippi, smart or not, they were going to dance. And he was going to do his best to make his grandmother proud.

“Let me apologize up front for stepping on your feet.” Her nervous smile was more intoxicating than a bottle of Kentucky’s finest bourbon.

“I have faith in you.” There was no way he was going to tell her that he was scared to death he’d be the one stepping on her feet.

The sounds of the famed Glenn Miller tune “In the Mood” filled the air. Randy and Julia were already swaying and swinging to the song with more energy than he’d expect from someone celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Few people dared to step on the wooden floor. Clearly most people were definitely smarter than Aiden. Here went nothing.

His hand rested firmly on her waist, the other gripped her fingers tight enough to direct, loose enough to allow free movement. It only took a few moves for her to get the rhythm. When he spun her out, pushing at her waist, then tugging her back in, she wound into his grip, their chests bumping, and her wavering smile shifting to full-blown laughter. She was enjoying herself. And so the heck was he.

When the song came to an end and the next tune started, they continued holding hands, and as if they’d been dancing together as long as Randy and Julia, the two of them spun and twirled and to his delight, his hip didn’t seem to be slowing them down. He might pay the price for overdoing it in the morning, but right now, his plan was to enjoy every single moment.

“Okay,” Colleen huffed as the song slowed, “you may be doing great, but I need to sit.”

“Of course.” He had to bite back a delighted grin when she followed him from the dance floor without ever letting go of his hand. It made no sense, and yet, it mattered—a lot. A whole lot. To his chagrin, his cell phone buzzed. Alice Sweet. Can you pick up a dozen croissants from the little French bakery down the street from the dress shop on your way home please?”

Home. That word jumped out at him. The Sweet Ranch definitely felt like home. Which, of course, made no sense for a guy from the Bronx used to shared driveways, postage stamp sized back yards, and neighbors close enough to pass a cup of borrowed sugar through the kitchen windows. Glancing at the time, as much as he hated to even think it, never mind say it, they probably should start their way back to Honeysuckle.

“Something wrong?” Colleen’s smile slipped, concern filled her eyes.

He shook his head. “No. It’s Alice. She wants me to stop and pick up croissants from a bakery on our way home.”

Colleen’s eyes closed for a moment longer than a blink. “That bakery is phenomenal we’d better hurry. I forgot Alice is waiting for her dress. We should probably start back.”

More slowly than he’d moved the first time they hauled him out of the hospital bed and over to rehab, he pushed away from the table, reached for Colleen’s purse and pulled her chair out. He was going to miss the fun they would have had dancing longer. They’d barely made it outside the building when they bumped into Abigail Fine—literally.

Shoo Shoo, Abigail’s beloved Pomeranian, ran circles around Aiden’s feet, barking as if the man had just stolen a t-bone steak out from under her. Abigail chased after the fluffiest dog Aiden had ever seen, gathering her dropped purchases as she moved.

“Let me help.” Colleen stretched to intercept the fleeting pooch who took that moment to stop racing around, snarl, and when Colleen went to grab the dog, Shoo Shoo snapped at her. “Oh.”

“She’s very sensitive.” Abigail reached for the pup, her purchases forgotten.

Colleen shifted her attention from the dog to the items scattered on the floor.