Before anybody gets a word out, the door opens and the atmosphere shifts in an instant. Every white-haired, coiffed old lady head swivels toward the man swaggering into the room.
It’s the Rust effect. Scientists need to study this phenomenon.
“Good Lord! Ain’t he a tall glass of sweet tea,” mutters Mrs. Carter, fluffing up her hair.
Mrs. Mullen gasps. “His mustache reminds me of my fourth husband, may he rest in peace. Or was it my sixth?May he rest in peace, too. But this handsome fella could become my twelfth husband, if you know what I mean.”
I exhale a laugh through my nose, wondering if the sins Mrs. Mullen alluded to include murdering several of her many, many husbands. Nearly a dozen is quite impressive.
Mrs. Morris pales, pressing a hand to her chest and I’m worried she’s going to faint. Erin seems to think the same and reacts faster than me, steadying the woman by the arm.
“For him, I’d risk breaking my hip a second time,” Mrs. Henderson whispers too loudly.
Rust smirks, tipping his hat. “Ladies.”
The damn cowboy hat really suits him and he knows it. I like the backward cap deal on him, too, but a proper hat makes him look like a true Southern gentleman.
In fact, that hat is the reason he’s late. He forgot it in the motel when we went to pick up my guitar and we were already halfway to the church when he ran back to get it.
Rust puts an arm around my waist and kisses my cheek. Possessive, huh? It seems important to him to show that we’re here together. That he’s here with me. I like that.
“Your babies are gonna be pretty as a picture,” Mrs. Bloom says, nodding approvingly. Her eyes drop and her expression turns sour. “Well, I never! I only see a ring onhishand. Are y’all sneakin’ around behind his wife’s back?”
Gasps filter through the room.
Erin turns beet-red. “Let’s calm down with the personal questions, please!”
I laugh. “It’s alright. Rustin is my ex-husband. We already tried the marriage thing once and it didn’t work out.”
Rust squeezes me closer, one hand sliding to my ass. “But that don’t mean I’ll stop trying to win her back. It’s why I’m still wearin’ our ring.”
Fire fans across my face and I’m certain I match Erin’s shade of red.
A collective awww fills the space and Erin claps to get everybody’s attention. “Alright y’all, we’ve had enough gossip. We’re here to dance!”
The women chatter while they get into formation, stealing glances at us.
“Handsome Mister Rustin should practice with us and stand right here,” Mrs. Bloom says, pointing ahead of them.
Erin mumbles something under her breath and massages her temples.
“Y’all just wanna get a good look at my behind,” Rust protests playfully, wiggling his hips.
“Purely for instructional purposes,” Mrs. Bloom insists and the others mutter their agreement. They might like to bicker, but on this important matter they’re a united front.
Rust raises both hands in defeat. “Alright, alright.” He turns to me and whispers, “They wanna do the‘downward-facing lobster’like you.” His teeth graze my earlobe as he squeezes my ass.
I flinch, holding back a squeal. Before I can scold him for indecent behavior in public, the scoundrel is already across the room.
As I play, Erin explains the steps and demonstrates each one. She’s like a different person. As soon as she slipped into the instructor role, she transformed from a fidgety, anxious woman into a calm professional.
The steps are slow and easy, but theBoot Scootin’ Seniorsare having a blast. So is Rust. He does a little spin or a twist here and there, rotating his hips suggestively to get a hoot and a holler from his elderly audience.
It’s sweet. I could watch him all day, and honestly, that scares me like hell.
28
TALLY
