"You know," I say, tipping my head toward him, "I think the town should issue a warning before letting you on the dance floor."
He shoots me a look, one brow lifting. "Oh yeah?"
"Absolutely," I say. "Danger to nearby toes. Severe lack of rhythm. Possible emotional distress."
A corner of his mouth twitches. "That right."
"Mm-hmm. I watched three women flee in fear when you came on the dance floor."
He snorts, then slows the truck. "You got a real imagination."
"I'm generous like that."
He doesn't answer. Just eases the truck onto the shoulder where the road widens, kills the engine, and pops his door open. Before I can ask what he's doing, he's out, circling around to my side. He opens my door and holds out his hand.
"Come on."
I look at his hand, then his face. There's something different in his expression now. Lighter. Almost playful.
"Eli."
"Hazel." He says it back like a challenge, mouth twitching at the corner.
"That tone never ends well for me."
"Trust me." His hand is still out, waiting.
I take his hand. He leads me around back, hops up into the bed of the truck in one easy motion, then turns and offers his hand again. I climb up, laughing when he tugs me closer than necessary.
He leans in, voice low. "Gonna show you exactly how bad I am."
The radio crackles to life, country spilling out into the open night. We stand there, framed by dark fields and a sky thick with stars. He takes my hand, the other settling at my waist, and starts to move.
I laugh. "Eli. You're proving my point."
He rolls his eyes. "You're the one counting steps."
"I'm observing."
"Uh-huh."
He tries a spin. It goes crooked. I step on his boot. We both laugh, the sound loose and easy, the way it used to be.
"Careful," I say. "You'll pull something."
"Worth it," he says, grinning.
The song shifts. Slower. Softer. Something about long roads and coming home.
We're still moving, but the playfulness bleeds away with the tempo. His hand slides from my waist to my hip, more instinct than intention, and he pulls me in.
Closer than before.
The laughter fades. Not gone. Just quieter. Like we both feel the moment changing and don't want to break it with sound.
The night feels closer suddenly. The air warmer.
My pulse picks up.
