Exhausted from a killer week of work, he’d spent all day on the road scouting locations, constantly on the phone trying to confirm the guest host for the remaining episodes. Remy had been looking forward to a quiet night at the Heartache B and B and—finally—a real conversation with his daughter about what was going on in her world, maybe over a nice dinner. But she’d requested a video chat at midday, reminding him that her four-day grounding was supposed to be over. Since he’d been in a meeting, he’d rescinded the punishment—a stricter one than what he would have done in the past, but Erin’s words about forcing Sarah to take some responsibility for her actions had resonated. He’d been glad to give his daughter back the car privileges, confident she’d learned her lesson.
Unfortunately, he’d returned to town to discover a note that she’d gone here—to the dance Erin had mentioned on Tuesday.
Remy stood on the fringes of the mayhem that spilled out of Lucky’s Grocer and Restaurant. A bluegrass band worked their banjo strings with a fierceness that a Louisiana boy could appreciate—if only he’d been in the mood. Remy wanted to find Sarah and get out of there.
Simple.
Except the first person his gaze found in the crowd of people dancing under the stars happened to be Erin Finley.
He told himself that was normal enough. She was practically the only person he knew in town besides Sarah and the lady who ran the Heartache B and B. Wouldn’t it behuman nature for his eye to gravitate toward a face he recognized?
Too bad he didn’t fool himself for a second. Especially when he hadn’tseenher face yet, not when she danced with her back to him, her arms around a smiling dude old enough to be her grandfather. Remy had recognized her silhouette in a floral sundress paired with a dark denim jacket and cowboy boots. He recognized the way she moved—more functional efficiency than traditionally feminine. And, yeah, he realized exactly how much that revealed about the amount of time he’d spent thinking about her.
Cursing himself and his stupid level of observation, he plowed through the crowd toward the dance floor. He’d ask her if she’d seen his daughter and then he’d get out of here.
A few swirling skirts brushed against his legs as he moved through the dancers. He tried not to scowl when two-stepping couples forced him off the direct path to Erin and her dancing partner. Remy didn’t know what tipped the guy off, but the gray-haired man seemed to know who Remy had in mind as a target, and by the time he reached them, the old-timer was already stepping away from Erin and passing her hand over to Remy.
“Erin.” Well, this was awkward. “I don’t mean to interrupt.”
“Remy.” Her cheeks were flushed from the dance, her whole demeanor softer and sweeter than he’d seen it before. Her smile seemed genuine, too, but her hand remained suspended in midair for a moment before she lowered it quickly.
Was there a better way to prove you’d been brought up in a barn with no manners than to leave a pretty girl hanging? Damn it, damn it.
Politeness got the better of him and he took her handand stepped into the place of the man who’d held her a second ago.
“You don’t need to—” she started.
“I still remember the steps.” His words were gruffer than he’d intended. But how could she know what it was like for him to touch a woman’s waist through a sheer silk dress? To hold her soft palm in his and see manicured fingernails resting along the back of his hand?
He liked that her nails were still painted jet-black though she’d lightened up the inky strands of her hair. There was a toughness about her that he admired. It helped to think about that instead of the fact that she smelled like amber.
“I can see you know the steps.” Erin spun with him under a yellow Chinese lantern, keeping pace with him so they didn’t run into the couple ahead of them or slow down the couple behind. “If you weren’t scowling so hard your eyes are crossed, I might almost think you liked to dance.”
He shook his head and hoped his expression relaxed. He was tense.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Erin moved with him easily, her body sleekly athletic and her steps unencumbered despite the boots she wore. “We can step off the floor over there.” She pointed to a spot opposite the band where the crowd was a little thinner.
He felt so grateful for the offer, he could have kissed her, which was exactlynotwhat he wanted to think about.
“Thanks. It’s so crowded.” He let her take the lead as they reached the far edge of the floor, at least until some big, drunk dude stood in her path.
Protectiveness surged.
Keeping his grip on her hand, Remy edged past her,politely staring the guy down, and kept them moving away from everyone else until they were almost in a pine tree thicket. He turned back to speak to her, but she gestured forward.
“Just through there is a walking trail, if you’d like to get some air. It’s quieter.” She kept her hand in his even now.
Or was he holding on to her?
Maybe he made her self-conscious about it, though, because as he stared at their entwined fingers, Erin let go.
“My turn to be sorry,” she murmured, jamming her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket as they reached a wooden bridge over a small steam.
A sign with reflective letters glinted in the moonlight, reading Park Closed at Dusk. Up ahead, he saw fenced baseball fields and a wooden pavilion. The bluegrass music floated through the trees, the lights of the dance still visible, but softer. He’d go back and look for Sarah in a minute, once he’d cleared his head.
“Don’t be sorry.” Remy leaned on one of the bridge’s thick wooden handrails. “I’m the King of Awkward around you, Erin, and that’s my fault, not yours.”
