She’d never been meant for the city, Max, waitressing, or anything else. She was a country girl through and through, and she was going to prove it. She took a swing class in high school and remembered a few steps, though, even if she forgot them outright while dancing, she knew Justin would be able to lead her back to where she needed to be.
They gathered all of their things and checked out. On the way home, the three girls jammed to classics and laughed til their bellies hurt. Again, Blythe soaked in the bits and pieces of life out in Montana the way she had as a girl—and something inside of her longed to have been there since the beginning. Why had she been born to parents so rich and snobby that she no longer communicated with them?
This was where her soul always belonged. This place was paradise.
She started brainstorming plans for a permanent relocation. She couldn’t stay with Chris and the girls forever—she needed a place of her own.
He stood on the front porch, nerves crawling up his forearms. He didn’t know why. Other than the fact that he was head over fucking heels for this girl, and he wanted tonight to be perfect. He wanted to take her out, spin her around, and hold her on his shoulder when a slow song came on.
It was her face that kept him up at night, her laugh and her smile. It was the taste of her damn lips, is what it was. He reached out, opening the screen door that led into the kitchen at Silo Springs. He didn’t have to look around because there she stood, right in front of him—in all her finest cowgirl princess glory.
“Hey…” she breathed with a smile.
Was this woman real life? Of all the women he’d gone out with—there really hadn’t been many, but even so—he’d never been as awestruck dumb as he felt right now.
“You’re beautiful. So damn beautiful—you’re blinding me, sugar.”
He meant it. He felt completely transparent in the moment. No guard—just plain vulnerable. She was blushing under his stare as he moved toward her, flowers in hand.
“Stop it. You’re just being nice to me.” Her smile was sweet and flirty. She lifted her fingers and grazed them down the middle of his torso, reaching his big belt buckle and giving it a wiggle. He was wearing his usual black T-shirt and Wrangler jeans. Justin tipped his bearded chin, his eyes locking with her dusty green ones. “You don’t look so bad yourself, cowboy. I like that you still chose to wear that hat backwards. A cowboy one just wouldn’t have suited.”
When she bit her lip, he felt his dick twitch. This woman would put him six feet under and fast if he didn’t start moving things along with her. He needed to up the pace. She took the flowers from him and laid them on the wooden table. Justin reached for her hand.
“Are you alone right now?”
“Yeah. Chris took the girls out to dinner so I could shower and get ready in peace.”
He could smell the fruity notes of her shampoo and whatever she was wearing for scent. It swirled around them. If he was a weaker man, he would push her up against a wall and ask her a series of seductive questions before taking her mouth and devouring her like he wanted to.
But instead, Justin held her hands in his and raised one to his lips. “Are you ready to go?”
The lights coming off the dance hall were shining through the windshield as Justin put his truck in park. He reached over and hooked a finger under Blythe’s chin, turning her face and bringing it closer to his. He moved forward, close enough that his nose was almost touching hers.
“This is going to be fun. Wait right here. I’m coming around for you.”
He turned, jumped out of his side, closed the door, and jogged around the front of the truck. She was beaming when he opened her door and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her out and placed her feet gently onto the blacktop. He could hear the country music coming from inside the building as he saw a look fade over her face.
“What's wrong, sugar?”
“Nothing, just nerves. This is going to be great. I’m letting go tonight and letting my hair down.”
He smiled, squeezed her hand, and walked them up to the door—pulling it open. There was a live band and a bar off to one side. He could see the regular townspeople and noticed a few idiots from his younger years. Robby Denton was his least favorite. The guy was notorious for bangin’ and leaving ‘em hangin’—never the same girl twice. He had to be outsourcing at this point, pulling women from all the surrounding areas.
Justin shoved his disdain to the back of his mind and refocused on Blythe. He knew her instincts were telling her to hide when he felt her pull towards a row of chairs lined up against a wall.
“Oh, no you don’t…” He winked and pulled her to his chest. Then he quoted a movie he’d seen once as a whisper in her ear.
“Dancing is just a conversation between two people—talk to me.” He watched as she dropped her chin and smiled. He started to move his feet and pulled her out into the middle of the dance floor. The band was singing “Somebody Like You” by KeithUrban. He started with a simple two-step motion to build her confidence. When he felt like she was ready, he spun her out and under his arm.
He held both of her hands in his and lifted them high above her head as she continued to spin. He led her in circles around his body as she spun in fluid motions while he stepped and turned around her, too. Justin meant what he said when he’d told her he could country swing her into next week. In his younger years, the bunk boys used to go out on the weekends. And when they did, he went with them. They would drink, and he would dance with any woman willing to let him practice with her.
Blythe was tiny in comparison to his height. She was like a fairy dancing around him. He lifted her by the waist and guided her to wrap her legs around his hips, then dipped her. At one point, she slowly dragged her hand over his belt as she moved around him. When she was right where he wanted her, directly behind him, he put his arms back to stop her. Justin bent his knees, lining his hips up with hers. He pressed his pockets to her front and swung his ass left and right—dragging her skirt with him as he did.
He heard her laugh as she started swinging her hips back and forth with his. He turned to see her, and the smile she wore was intoxicating. She was a siren, and he felt his resolve waning. He could take hold of her pretty little face and devour her right there, in the middle of the dance floor.
He almost did. He loved seeing her like this.
Walls? What walls? In the moment, she seemed completely free from whatever hurt the Chicago douche had put her through. But, ultimately, he knew she wasn’t—and he desperately wanted to be the one to fix that.
