“You never know.” Audrey wiped her fingers on a napkin. “He lives here now.”
“He does?” Bree gulped. Schulenburg was quaint with its German architecture and tourist shops on Main. Celebrities cruised through on a regular basis and no one freaked out too much.
Bree was freaking out now. She busied herself cleaning up the crumpled napkins on the table and stuffing them into her empty shake cup. “It doesn’t matter.” She spoke as much for Audrey’s benefit as for her own. “I doubt he’s a bookworm, so I’ll probably never see him again anyway.” She stuffed the napkins in as far as they would go and pressed down hard. “It should be fine.”
I should be fine.Not seeing his dimpled cheeks would be just fine. Fine indeed.
Chapter Seven
“Ilook like an idiot.” Owen stared at himself in the mirror. He wore a lightweight cotton plaid snap-up shirt with short sleeves that he’d picked up in a boutique store on Main Street, jeans, and cowboy boots of all things. Not that he hadn’t worn cowboy boots in his life. When he was a kid, a pair came through the hand-me-down line and he wore those bad boys all over town. Not having to tie shoelaces was a huge time-saver for a seven-year-old. However, he hadn’t worn them since, and his feet thought they were being suffocated.
With a sigh, he flipped off the lights and made his way to the main part of the house. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Polka dancing?”
Kyle grinned. “The online reviews were complimentary. Besides, it’s been two days since you were out of the house for anything other than a bike ride.”
“I like my house.”
“You need social interaction.”
“I need a better best friend.”
“Can’t be done.” Kyle clapped him on the back. “Let’s go.”
Owen grumbled for the whole walk to the garage, during the ride over, and as they made their way into Senglemann Hall, where dancing took place every Wednesday night. Kyle was right. He needed to get out, needed an excuse. After seeing Bree and Audrey at the Dairy Queen, he’d locked himself away because he was right: cute was dangerous. And the woman had a mother who had no trouble clamping on to her daughter. He needed to think about that every time his mind wandered to Bree’s swanlike movements.
Owen walked into the dance hall, feeling as though he were entering the music as much as they entered a room. Music—polkamusic complete with accordion solo—floated offstage, the band as animated as the notes. The clarinet player was especially jammin’.
The sound was an entity all of its own. Owen didn’t hate it like he’d expected to. He wouldn’t be jamming out to this tune on his next fifty-miler, but it didn’t claw its way up his spine either.
Heads turned to take in the newbies like they were gunslingers entering a saloon. Kyle may be able to fly under the radar since he was 5 foot 9 and 180 pounds, but Owen’s 6 foot 3 and 280 pounds drew attention. Or it could be that his orange plaid shirt was somewhat ostentatious. He stared at the back wall until the attention faded.
Kyle rubbed his hands together. “Where should we start?”
To the right, a punch bowl and fifty glasses of water were placed on a folding table. Right next to that was another table with a sign across the front that said “Support the Summer Reading Program and Enjoy a Homecooked Brownie.”
Behind the table sat Bree. Her head was down as she read a book, and her hair was back. Why did she always have to pull it away from her face? When it was down, it softened her. He could just see her waking up from a nap, all pillow-ruffled and sleepy-eyed. He hit his fist into his thigh to jar himself out of that line of thinking.
Bree had said something about working at the library, and he suddenly felt the need for a library card and a tour—and a brownie.
The dance floor was made of wood, dull, scratched, and clean. The walls were painted blue halfway up with a pine log set into the wall at waist height. Above the log, the walls were cream-colored and there were framed movie posters from a bygone era artfully arranged.
They didn’t have long to ponder the question of where to begin, because two girls in their early twenties strutted forward. The shorter one flipped her light hair over her shoulder and placed a hand on her hip, thrusting her chest forward in the process. “You guys are new, aren’t you?”
The taller one, with dark brown hair and a mole on her chin that should be looked at by a medical professional, arched her back and stuck out her rear end.
Kyle flipped the charming switch. “We are, but I bet you two could teach us the basics.”
And with that, Owen was spinning dizzily around the room and doing his best not to bump into any of the old-timers. When the song was over, Tiffany, the shorter girl, stuck to him like bubble gum. He’d remove one of her hands from his chest only to find she’d stuck her hip against his leg. When he stepped away, she grabbed on to him like plastic wrap just off the roll.
“I’m going to talk to my friend Bree.” He used her name and everything, hoping to imply a level of familiarity that wasn’t there and scare off his shadow.
Tiffany made a sour face. “I’ll be right here when you come back.”
“Okay.”I am never coming back, and I will kick Kyle out of my house if he invites these girls home tonight.
He made his way through the couples, weaving in and out like running through the defensive line—find the gap and go, don’t hesitate. He loomed over the table, casting a shadow over Bree’s book. His palms grew moist and he lost the words he’d planned to say. “‘Sup?”
She lifted her head, her eyes traveling up his body. Not in the disturbing way Tiffany’s had, but like she was trying to find his face and couldn’t believe how far she had to travel. “Uh.”
