Page 74 of Promise

Mirabelle fusses on the blanket. The glasses have slid off-kilter. Her hat nearly covers her face.

Dart chuckles and picks her up, tucking her to his chest so she faces me. “You eat first.” He nods toward the container he opened.

Then he lifts Mirabelle higher, blowing raspberries on her belly and making her smile at him. I witness pure joy in his eyes. The way they lighten when he looks at her. The way they soften. He loves her. And she loves him.

And it’s all so dangerous.

Because I’m pretty certain I can never let Dart go again.

Blossoming summer evenings take longer to shift from day to dusk, but eventually Mirabelle needs to go home. She’s had a long afternoon. She needs a bath, and I need a cold shower.

Dart’s attention on me and with Mirabelle has just been too much. Or maybe it was the second beer I had that made me all hot and bothered.

It’s still earlyish, but I want to maintain the bedtime routine I have established for Mirabelle, so we collect our things and head toward The Babbling Bean’s booth. I want to say goodnight to Mom before we leave.

As we’re standing by her booth, giving her a minute to finalize a sale, a voice I haven’t heard in a long time comes through the speakers in the gazebo.

“Hello, all you gorgeous Rogue River people.”

Heads turn. Cheers erupt. Another prodigal son has returned. Jon Pettington. Petty.

Dart told me Petty was back, but I haven’t seen the phenom drummer-turned-superstar since his return. Even as he’s aging, he still looks like Adonis with a goofy grin and laughter in his throat. He sits on a low stool, casually holding a guitar on his lap while speaking into the microphone.

“It’s good to be back in Rogue River,” he continues. “And a very persuasive town council member asked me to play a set.”

He pauses as people clap their approval.

“I’d like to start the night with a request. Something special for a special couple.” He plucks at his guitar.

The initial chords are unfamiliar. I was not aware that Petty could play the guitar or that he could sing. Makes sense because he was in a famous band, but I’ve only ever known him to play drums.

As he sings the first line, his sultry, deep voice waves over the crowd.

Dart turns towards me, a mischievous smile on his face. “Dance with me.”

I’m holding Mirabelle, so I say, “I don’t know.”

But Mom comes out of nowhere, slipping her arms between me and Mirabelle, and taking her from me.

“Sounds like fun,” she mutters before peppering Mirabelle with kisses while she steals her away.

I glance at Dart, who holds out his hand.

“Everyone will be watching us,” I state. No one else is dancing right now.

“And see what?” Dart chuckles. “Me dancing with my wife? Let them look.” He steps closer to me. “They’re all jealous that you’re with me.”

I laugh, hesitation tickling my throat. “You’re so ridiculous.”

“And that’s what you love about me.”

We both freeze. His eyes wide. Mine mirroring his.

“I mean . . .” Dart swipes the hand he extended to me through his hair.

“I know what you meant,” I tease, sticking out my hand. “I haven’t danced in a long time. I might be rusty.”

He takes my hand and tugs me closer. “We can be rusty together.”