Oh, dear. Jane winced. She sounded as sulky as six-year-old Aidan when he didn’t want to do something.
But Lauren, bless her heart, never lost her smile or her patience. “I’m not saying you should marry one of them. Or even have wild wedding hookup sex. But it’s a party. You should enjoy yourself. Live in the moment.”
Jane admired Lauren’s attitude. Her daring. Of course, Lauren didn’t have a child at home, dependent on every decision. Or an ex, threatening to bring her carefully constructed life down around her ears.
“I’ll think about it,” Jane promised.
“Think about what?” her father asked.
Wild heat stormed Jane’s face.Please, please don’t let him have heard the part about wild hookup sex.
“Dancing,” she said.
Hank scowled. “Well, how about it, then?”
Jane resisted the urge to fidget. “How about what?”
“You want to dance with your dad?”
She blinked. “I... Yes.” Something expanded in her chest, warm and light as rising bread. “Yes, I’d like to very much.”
She took his hand. He pulled her close, his muscles hard and sinewy as a ship’s rope. He smelled familiar, of laundry detergent, bay rum, and tobacco, and just for a moment she was transported back to the days before her mother left them, when her daddy waltzed her around the living room while she stood on his shoes.
They never had been any good at talking.
Sometimes it was better to communicate without words.
***
LAURENWATCHEDTHEMgo with a lump in her throat.
I’ll never dance with my dad. The thought nicked her heart, a tiny, unexpected slice as sharp as a paper cut.
“You all right?” Jack asked behind her.
She resisted the urge to turn and throw herself against his chest.
Hastily, she pulled herself together. It was good to remember and to feel, even to feel pain. But to wallow in it... Not so good.
She turned and smiled at him.Live in the moment. “I am now.”
He didn’t say anything. He stood there, solid, self-contained, and imperturbable, regarding her with those dark, watchful eyes.
“Do you ever miss your family?” she asked abruptly.
He took her right hand in his and set his arm around her waist. “You’re doing it again.”
He pulled her forward, stepped back. She followed automatically, distracted by the brush of their legs, the clasp of his hand. “What?”
“Answering a question with another question.”
She nodded. “Deflecting.”
“Dodging.”
She widened her eyes and batted her lashes, hoping to make him smile. “Maybe I simply find you fascinating.”
A corner of his mouth ticked up.
