“But like I said, you are pretty, no matter what you’re wearing,” he told her. “You know, since I’m your boyfriend for the evening, shouldn’t I know more about you? You know, in case people ask? At least the vitals.”
“That’s a point. My mother may have paused her interrogation, but she’ll be back.” Bristol seemed to gather her thoughts. “I’m twenty-four, my middle name is Alexa. My dad died when I was ten. We used to bake together when I was a kid. I dropped out of college in my sophomore year to start a little coffeehouse in my hometown called Sweet Cinns. Making ends meet each month is touch and go, but I love what I do. What about you?”
“I’m still trying to find myself,” he said honestly, scrambling to figure out what he could say that wouldn’t give away his identity. “I got a GED at sixteen. I had this crazy idea, but it didn’t work out the way I thought. So…right now, I’m seeing the country and trying to figure out where to go next. Where’s your hometown?” He changed the subject before she could ask him for details.
“Lewisville. That’s in Arkansas, about thirty miles east. You’ve never heard of it.”
“I haven’t,” he admitted.
“It’s a tiny town, so small that we had to come here to find a restaurant big enough for the party.”
“Do you have a lot of competition in the restaurant biz there?”
“Well, Starbucks hasn’t come to town yet, so that helps. But we also don’t have a morning rush hour. I’d love to have cars wrapped around my building, but it isn’t equipped with a drive-thru. No other place in town is open for breakfast or makes everything from scratch. I don’t stay open for dinner because I can’t compete with Burge’s Pit Bar-B-Q or Scooter’s Pizza Shack.”
He nodded as they meandered closer to the band. “Wise business decision. I’ll bet your goodies are delicious. I’d love a taste.”
His voice had gone low and husky with his rising interest. Had she heard that? Noticed it?
She raised her gaze to him, lashes fluttering flirtatiously. “Is that right? Well, my hot buns are fabulous.”
“I have no doubt they are.” He winked. When she giggled, he found himself wishing he could stay around long enough to take a bite of whatever she offered.
The collection of musicians grabbed their instruments and started playing a lively contemporary country love song with a three-four meter. It wasn’t like anything he played in his vault of songs.
“Dance with me?” he asked, stopping at the edge of the floor and drawing her closer.
“You waltz?”
Not really. “Sure.”
Mostly, he just wanted an excuse to hold her close.
She bit her lip. “I can’t guarantee your toes will survive. I’m not much of a dancer.”
“I’m decent. I’ll go easy on you. Say yes.” He skimmed a palm down her back. “Promise.”
She exhaled, her breath shaky as she scanned his face. “Okay. They’re your toes.”
“You’ll do great.”
Jesse took her hand and brought her closer. Every one of her curves seemed to align perfectly with him, each contour fitting to his like pieces of a puzzle. That sounded cheesy, even in his own head, but he’d never been more aware of a woman’s every dip and swell, of his heart racing simply because she stood near and their palms touched. He wasn’t at the eighth grade formal, slow-dancing with a girl for the very first time. He’d long ago lost track of how many women he’d fucked. But Bristol made everything seem new again.
Were his palms actually sweating?
They fell in time to the music together, Jesse mimicking the sort of waltz his grandparents used to dance. Bristol seemed a bit stiff at first, but with every step she relaxed more into his arms.
“Where did you learn to dance?” she asked.
He couldn’t say that his very first manager had hired dance instructors to work with him to perfect his on-stage moves and that, more recently, he’d hired a male stripper to show him how to make his moves sexier. Instead, he opted for something he could tell her.
“My grandparents owned an Arthur Murray dance studio. I spent my summers there. When I was thirteen, I thought it would be the happening place to pick up girls, so I paid attention. I learned a lot.”
“I’ll bet you were smooth even back then.”
“I thought I was.” He sent her a self-deprecating grin. “I see the pictures now and think ‘dork in braces.’”
She laughed. “I can’t imagine it.”
