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“They are magnificent.” He pointed at my cleavage. “Real tits are rarer than condors or, um, Coastal Gnatcatchers in Hollywood.”
“Coastal what?” I almost snort laughed; this had to be the most absurd conversation I’d ever had about my own tits.
“Small gray bird that causes real estate developers unending headaches in California. But forget the Gnatcatcher comparison; let’s go with rarer than a flawless diamond.”
“Sure, flawless it is.” This time, I snorted. My tits were far from perfect. Time and gravity did not do kind things to generously sized boobs that at one time nursed a child.
“May I have this dance?” He swept me into his arms and started swaying in time to the distinctive but muffled opening bars of Patsy Cline’sCrazythat leaked from the bar. I stumbled, blindsided by the unexpected move, but he held us up, and I relaxed into the impromptu dance.
“It is a great song.” Handsome partner, beautiful night. It felt too romantic to be real. And it wasn’t. He was inebriated and on vacation. I played along at my own risk.
He took my hand and led me in a slow, breathless twirl. At the end, I looped my hands around his neck and looked into his eyes. My risk-taking heart fluttered.
“Many of the most gorgeous things in this world are like that.” He cupped my chin, tilting my head in a way that could only lead to a kiss. “Hidden in plain sight. Drowned out by the too-bright glare of less worthy but more sparkly things.”
I couldn’t breathe or talk. But a tiny flash of common sense made me resist the pressure of his hand on my jaw, and it fell away. The imprint of his touch lingered despite the cool night air. It would have been so easy to give in.
He shook his head like he wanted to clear a thought from his vodka-soaked brain. With a muttered curse, he wrapped his arms around my waist and returned us to the slow shuffling dance, my head pillowed on his chest. Our shoes crunched on the gravel path. I struggled to find my center and get my breathing under control.
The sensual tension around us dissolved by degrees, and by the time Patsy finished lamenting her bad choices in love, it was like our near kiss had never happened. Except for the indelible memory left in my head and stamped on my body.
The song changed, and when he tried to match his footsteps to the faster tempo, he stumbled, and before I could do anything but save myself, he ended up on his ass. He looked up at me; the starlight reflected in his eyes as he laughed about what an awful dancer he was.
One misstep and I’d have ended up sprawled on top of him.Too bad, said the lonely, traitorous bits of my female anatomy. Parts of me that didn’t have to pay for Bailey’s college or listen to the gossip around town.
“Alright, Wils, I’ll take the car keys.” I held out my hand and tapped the toe of my boot on the path. I wouldn’t let anyone drink and drive in my town if I could stop it.
“No one has ever called me that before.” He handed over the keys without complaint.
Smart man.
“Wils? I think it fits you in this condition. Wilson is important and dignified. Not sitting on his ass in the dirt.” Bracing myself, I offered a hand.
“Way to kick a man when he’s down.” He took my hand, and we managed to get him upright.
There were two options for dealing with my disarming and utterly adorable drunken client.
“Option one. I can call my brother to take you home.” Colton or one of his deputies had driven more than one overserved patron home from The Pub.
“The sheriff? Are you sending me to jail because I’m a terrible dancer and I talked about your exceptionally lovely breasts?”
I ignored the boobs comment.
“Option two. How do you feel about early morning conversations with a teenage girl?”
“Better than I do about cell mates and mug shots.”
“Alright, you asked for it.”
Chapter 9
Wilson
Iwasdying.
The afterlife was a vibrant rainbow, and it hurt my eyes. The pillow I crammed over my face to block out the riot of color and the light seeping into the room from the window smelled like flowery perfume, and I gagged.
My plan to lie still and wait for death from dehydration may have been ill-conceived. I cracked open my eyes slowly, letting the light seep under my scratchy lids. My vision sharpened, and the loud blur of colors around me resolved into a wall of colored ribbons, papers, and fabrics organized by shade.
