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For a second, I’m sure she’s going to give me a piece of her mind. About how inappropriate it would be for us to dance together. After all, I’m her boss.
But then she smiles.
Kira’s smile is something I crave. A rare gem. Tight and true, creeping all the way into her eyes. “Sure. Let’s do it.”
Before I can even fathom what she’s said, Kira gets up and floats past me and back toward the tent, her mossy green bridesmaid’s dress trembling in the breeze. She stops suddenly and looks at me with a frown. “Are you coming?”
I’ve never gotten to my feet so fast. “Yes. Of course.”
There’s that smile again. It sends an electric shock through my body all the way down to my…
Stop it, Orlie. She’s your employee.
Maybe after tonight, I can call Kira a little more than an employee. A friend.
But nothing more. Never more than that.
3
KIRA
The entire wayto the dance floor, my heart threatens to leap out of my mouth.
What was he thinking? What amIthinking?
One dance. One friendly dance. Dances don’t have to be romantic. They can be platonic and dutiful.
And Orlie is nothing if not platonic and dutiful.
However, out there on the bench, the things he said about giving me the project…however brief his explanation might be…
It was nice to hear that he cares about my work. Cares about how I feel about my work.
Orlie and I face each other on the dance floor. Thankfully, it’s crowded enough that I don’t think anyone could spot us and start to wonder if there’s something more happening here than the reality of the situation.
A boss and employee sharing a dance at a wedding. A classic situation.
Stop lying to yourself, Kira.
“This is a good song to dance to,” Orlie remarks.
I don’t recognize the tune. But I’m surprised he does. It’s a romantic ballad with some singer plangently describing theirlove. I can’t imagine Orlie listening to this song just for shits and giggles.
Orlie eyes me carefully, those dark eyes I first thought were black when I saw him. Turns out, they’re as deep brown as they can be. Like bark made damp from the rain. Within the darkness, there are ridges of lighter brown and gold.
They’re beautiful.
He takes a step toward me and rests his hand on my waist. I resist my entire body going ridge, praying he can’t tell how his touch has sent shockwaves through me.
I have been harboring the knowledge that Orlie Wynters is beautiful for a year. Not just objectively beautiful, but beautiful tome. I have to resist staring at him, have to keep our conversations clipped and stifled so I don’t start blabbing nonstop and show my cards to him.
Now his hand is on my waist and I’m not sure that my brain can hold out much longer.
Orlie takes my hand in his, holding it up between us. I quickly clasp his shoulder.
Act like you’ve done this before, Kira.
And then, Orlie starts to lead me in a casual step, side to side. Simple. He leads with purpose and tenderness.
