They joined the dancers. Mike’s arms were like limp noodles, and Bree had to keep an eye over her shoulder to make sure he wasn’t leading her right into another couple. When they were done, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Mike’s sweaty hand gripped her arm. “Do you want to go out sometime?”
She cringed and his grip loosened. He wasn’t trying to be rough; there wasn’t a hint of malice in his face. He was just nervous. And while that was sweet and endearing, it didn’t do much for Bree. “Sure. I like hanging out with friends.”
His hope dashed to the floor and he let go of her arm. “Okay. I’ll call you sometime.”
“That would be great.”
He hurried away, disappearing between two couples. He was out of sight and hadn’t asked for her phone number. She shrugged. Mike was a good guy, the type of guy she could trust. Alas, Mike didn’t hold a candle to the flame Owen lit inside her with one touch. Owen’s arms were strong and sure.
“Bree!” Ryan Mathews gave her a quick hug. Startled, it took a moment for Bree to hug him back. They’d been in the same classes since the third grade. He’d cheated off her spelling test once and she’d turned him in. They both had to miss out on recess, him for cheating and her for tattling. Mrs. DuBois was impossible.
Ryan had filled out since graduation and his face had lost the chubbiness of youth. He had black hair and had shaved.
“Ryan. What are you doing in town?”
“Visiting the folks. It’s good to see you.” His eyes went down her body and right back up again. “You’ve grown up.”
She laughed at the former wrestling state champ. His shoulders were still broad, and now his middle was too. “So have you.” She reached up to rub his head like he was a toddler.
He laughed too, running his hands through his hair to set it back in place. “You’re different.”
“You think?” She glanced at the bake sale table, seeing herself sitting behind it two weeks ago, her nose in a book. That woman was tucked safely between the pages of her favorite novels. The woman on the dance floor had ridden on the back of a motorcycle and her good friend was a football player. She was growing up in all sorts of ways, and … she was happy.
“Yeah—come on, let’s dance.” He took her hand.
Bree smiled, pleased to reconnect with an old friend. If nothing else, Owen had gotten her out of her leather-bound shell. Even if he didn’t come when he’d hinted strongly that he’d be here, he was in the back of her mind.
“Do you remember the fifth-grade science fair?”
She burst out laughing. “How could I forget? I was washing green Jell-O out of my hair for a week.”
* * *
Owen paused just outside the dance hall doors to adjust his collar. The drain was draining in all the right ways, his wallet had a deep gouge thanks to Tyrell’s Plumbing, and his heart beat out a crazy polka tune in anticipation of walking through the doors and seeing Bree. She was probably tucked behind the table, hardly noticing the world around her as she read through someone else’s adventures. He couldn’t wait to pull her out of her imaginary world and hold her against his chest, reveling in the softness of her body next to his.
He high stepped through the door and came to a skidding halt. Bree was on the dance floor, laughing as a guy who could use a few weeks in the gym regaled her with a story. Her eyes were bright and her hand flapped in front of her face as if trying to cool it down.
He didn’t like it—he didn’t like it at all.
Who was this yahoo, and what was he doing with Owen’s girl—friend? His girlfriend. His girl who was his friend?
He stalked to the brownie table and found that half her wares were gone. Folding his arms and glaring for good measure, he waited for her to notice him.Let’s see how long this takes.
He waited less than a minute. Bree’s eyes landed on him and her smile, already wide, lifted right up to include her eyes. Already bright, they turned liquid with pleasure.
Owen grew warm all over. She made an excuse to her dancing partner and hurried to him. She didn’t notice, but the guy followed behind.
“I thought you weren’t coming.” She was breathless. And breathtaking—from the top of her soft black hair to the silver points of her fringe-covered boots, she was a vision.
The stress Tyrell and the drain had brought into his life faded into nothingness in the wake of her joy at seeing him. “The Titans’ offensive line couldn’t keep me away.”
She laughed. “I’m going to have to take your word for it that that’s a big deal.”
He grinned, not caring that she didn’t know football. “I’ll buy you a book.”
“I’d like that.”
