“Your mother does. We’ve met at Lizzie’s with the book club, and she’s seen the dance room.”
“We’re gonna have words, her and I. I’m her favorite son and she kept that from me.”
“Her only son,” Branna added.
All eyes were back on the floor, watching as the Heaths got their groove on to some rock ’n’ roll.
“It’s a mystery, as you seem to know everything else,” Buster said, then took a long swallow from his bottle. Ethan realized he’d gone for the bottle to avoid the pineapple. That might be a better option next time.
“How come you know?” Jake looked accusingly at Annabelle.
“Zach lived with them off and on when I went away to study nursing, you idiot. They taught all of us to dance.”
“I can’t take much more of these surprises.” Muttering under his breath, Jake got to his feet and took Branna’s hand. “Come on. I want to see this up close.”
“You can dance?” Ethan said, looking at Annabelle.
“Better than you,” she said, glaring at him.
“Now, how do you know that?”
She flicked her hand his way. “Just a guess, but I’m sure it’s accurate.”
“Them’s fighting words, woman.” Ethan got to his feet and pulled her out of the seat before she could stop him, then towed her towards the floor.
“There’s no lines, Tomcat. How will you cope?”
Ignoring the taunt at his Texan roots, he answered by grabbing her hand and spinning her away from him and back again. She did the move with ease.
“Don’t tell me you can dance without counting?”
“I’m Texan,” Ethan shrugged as he spun her again.
“What does that mean, ‘I’m Texan’?”
“It means we’re superior.”
“The only thing you’ve got that’s superior is that monumental ego.”
She moved in one fluid motion, and Ethan, whose mother had insisted he take dance lessons since he was old enough to walk, thought he managed to keep up quite well. She was avoiding his eyes, looking everywhere but at him, and he was avoiding everywhere else but her.
“I want to dance with a man who really knows how to move, Lizzie. Care to swap?”
Before Ethan could say anything, Annabelle had changed partners with Mrs. Heath.
“Well, now, boy, you know how to dance?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan said, smiling down at the sweet lady now in his arms. “My mother made me take lessons.”
“Well, then, let’s see what you can do.”
Annabelle tried to concentrate on Walt, but her eyes kept going to Ethan and Lizzie. He moved well; in fact, he was good, not that she’d tell him that. He had on another pair of jeans, this pair newer, and a collared shirt in blue that matched his eyes. On his big feet he was wearing his favorite cowboy boots.
“Had a few conversations with Ethan Gelderman in The Hoot, Annabelle. Nice man, intelligent, articulate. You should snap him up, girl.”
“We sort of rub each other the wrong way, Walt.” She looked down into the kind face of the man who had been more a father to her than anyone else in her life.
“Did Lizzie ever tell you that when we met, she told me I was a smart ass, and that she didn’t like people who were self-indulgent?”
