“You, okay?” Joy asks her friend.
“Yes. Ah…I need a minute,” she admits.
“I’ve got her,” I tell Joy.
She walks to the other side of the sprawling banquet hall, which is big enough to house a cattle auction if you cleared out the chandeliers. One side is set up for serving cocktails and has a dance floor where the band plays.
Beyond a line of partitioned columns, the dining area stretches wide, tables set with crisp linens and silver, each place marked with Mav’s brand on the menu cards. The murmur of voices and scrape of chairs fill the space as people start finding their seats.
I let go of Sarah and step away. I don’t have permission to touch her. What happened before was on purpose, my way of telling the people of Wildflower Canyon whose side I’m on.
“What was that?” she asks, bewildered.
“That was me?—”
“People are going to think we’re…together or something,” she hisses.
My lips quirk into a small smile. I thought she was talking about me defending her, but that’s not her first thought. It makes me feel damn good. It means that she trusts me to speak up and not turn my back as I did the last time.
She just doesn’t like the idea that you’re dating, Cade.
“Why are you grinning?”
The band starts playing Bonnie Raitt’s ‘Something To Talk About’.
“Dance with me, Dove.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Sarah shoots a glance toward the tables, which are filling up with people carrying plates of steak and potatoes from the buffet line.
“Probably,” I admit, offering my hand. “But I’m askin’ anyway.”
Her eyes dart to the crowd, then back to me. “They’re already staring.”
“Better they see the truth than keep swallowin’ lies.”
“And what’s the truth?”
“That we’re not enemies.”
For a beat, I think she’ll storm off. But then she slips her hand into mine—tentative, reluctant—and I guide her onto the small dance floor, which is empty. It’ll just be us, putting on a show.
“Come on, Dove, let’s give themsomethin’ to talk about.”
We’ve danced together before—so many times. I can’t wait to hold her again as close as she’ll let me so that I can breathe clean.
The fiddle laces through the air, clean and sweet.
I rest my hand on her waist. She stiffens, her hair that is loose around her face, brushes against my arm.
“This is stupid,” she mutters, though her voice is softer now.
I lean in, close enough that only she can hear. “No, it’s not. It’s me making a statement. Me telling them without telling them, I believe you about Landon.”
She gasps. “Cade.”
“Yeah. You said I can’t say anything aboutthat, and Iwon’t until you let me, but I’m also not gonna pretend the past is true.”
Her gaze flicks up, green and wary, catching mine. “You think one dance makes up for ten years?”
