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Chapter 4
Dani
Calland grinned back at me, and then took a huge bite of his food. I took his cue and polished off the rest of my pizza rollers, thanking my lucky stars and anyone else who wanted to listen for the fact that I’d discovered them one night while I was sitting here, trying to stay on track with what I came to town for.
Which was something that I hoped would be finished soon; but at the same time, I almost didn’t want it to be over. I found myself falling in love with the little town of Phillus, Ohio. A place I’ve found to be absolutely adorable and small town, but still a little big city all at once. A place that obviously had some pretty quirky residents, if the sign on the way into town was any indication. It had been changed to say Phallus, Ohio, a fact that made me laugh out loud and stop and take a picture the first day I arrived.
I glanced over at Calland and then quickly looked away when I realized that he was staring at me. I swallowed, searching my head for something to say to break the silence between us, something that might not be as smart assed as I had been. He really had been decent to me every time I’d seen him. Decent but annoyingly curious, asking too many questions.
None of which I was ready to answer.
Suddenly, the music, which had been pretty much just background noise beforehand, turned up and I started swaying on my stool as Bon Jovi’s Bed of Roses filled the bar. I swiveled to see a woman turn away from the jukebox that she must have just fed, crooking a finger at a man seated in a booth about ten feet from her. He didn’t hesitate to get up and take her in his arms, slowly moving her onto the dance floor. I watched wistfully, still moving unconsciously to what was one of my favorite songs.
“Dani.”
I looked back at Calland and he slid off his stool to stand in front of me, holding out his hand.
“Dance with me.” He said it softly, more of a demand than a question.
And, for once, I complied readily, putting my hand in his and stepping down from my stool to follow him onto the dance floor.
He stopped on the edge of it, using my hand to pull me into his chest as he turned, wrapping his free arm around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. I moved my hand out from under his and wound both of my arms around his neck, loosely clasping my fingers behind his head. He moved into the beat, leaving me pleasantly surprised to find that he had natural rhythm, rather than the stilted, automatic movements that most men seem to have when they danced.
Then his other hand came around my waist and suddenly I was pressed to him, chest to chest, hip to hip, hardness to softness.
My eyes shot to his, my head tipping back so I could see them. He towered over me, even with me in heels, but the minute I looked up, his eyes caught mine and held, drawing me into their beautiful green depths.
Right then, I knew that I might be in trouble.
And when he started softly singing the words in my ear, that might changed to definitely. I was definitely in trouble.
Fuck.
I sighed, trying to push away my inner diatribe and enjoy the moment. Of course, I was worried that I’d end up enjoying it too much. It’d been too long since I’d been held like this, even longer since I’d felt the yearning spiraling up through me like it was.
I broke his gaze, giving in and laying my head against his chest. His arms tightened even more, and that’s the way we stayed through the end of the song, and for a long beat after. Into the next song, which was definitely not a slow song. He finally loosened his grip on me when Axl started wailing out Sweet Child O’ Mine, but he grabbed for my hand and held it as we walked back to our seats at the bar.
“Thanks for the dance,” he said, lightly, smiling down at me.
“No problem,” I replied, hopping up on my stool and signaling Griff to bring me another Pepsi.
Calland raised his hand, too, but when Griff pointed to his beer, he shook his head and pointed to my empty glass. Griff nodded and moved off to get our drinks.
I cast a sideways glance at him. “No more beer?”
He shook his head. “Nah. One’s enough. Still have to drive home.”
I thanked Griff as he sat my pop down in front of me, then turned back to Calland. “And where’s home?”
“Here,” he replied, waving his hand around.
“The bar?” I asked, deliberately misunderstanding him.
He gave me a droll look and shook his head. “No. Here, Phillus. All my life. I live in an apartment on the outskirts of town. More like condos, kind of out in the country. Nice. Quiet.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding slowly. “I see. And here I figured you were gonna say you live in your parents’ basement and your momma does all your laundry still,” I teased, a small smile flirting with my lips as I tried to battle an all-out grin.
He gasped in mock outrage. “Seriously? How could you say that? I moved out of their place last week.”
He winked at me, teasing back.
I sighed exaggeratedly. “I knew it.”
He laughed. “No, I’ve had my own place for a long time, thank you very much. AND I do my own laundry. I mean, I am almost thirty.”
“Hmmm.”
“So, how old are you?” he asked me, nudging me with his shoulder.
I answered automatically. “Twenty-eight,” and then followed it up with my own question. “When will you be thirty?”
“October,” he said. “You?”
“In two years,” I replied without missing a beat, biting back a smile.
“Okay, smart ass. I meant, when’s your birthday?”
“April.”
“Next month, then.”
I nodded.
“You gonna be around then?” he asked.
I shrugged.
Surprisingly, he left it alone, instead choosing to ask me other inane questions.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“My favorite color?” I asked, giving him a weird look.
