“Youareawake.” There was humor in her husky voice. “And apparently ticklish.”
“Don’t even think about,” he warned, his own voice rough from sleep.
She giggled but didn’t press her luck by tickling him more. Instead, she surprised him with, “You got this for your mom, didn’t you?”
Grant swallowed, then nodded. “On the year anniversary of her death.”
“It’s beautiful.” She traced another feather. “Must’ve taken a long time to do.”
“It took a few sessions. Started with the back and worked my way around.”
“Is she the one who taught you to dance?”
“She was.”
He rolled over so he could see her face, his breath catching in his throat at what he saw. At some point she’d taken her hair down from the style she’d had it in last night. Now, the tussled, auburn waves fell over her shoulders and beyond.
Jesus, she’s gorgeous first thing in the morning.
Leaning on one elbow, Brynnon was quiet for a moment before asking, “Why the waltz?”
Grant rolled his eyes, his chest rising with the deep breath he took. “The school I went to had this stupid prom tradition. Every year, the Junior class had to do a traditional waltz as the first dance of the night. Everyone’s parents would stay and watch and then leave once it was done. I think it all started in the early nineteen hundreds or something.”
Brynnon smiled wide. “I think that’s a fabulous tradition.”
“You would.”
Her jaw dropped. Feigning offense, she teasingly slapped his chest. “Hey!”
Grant chuckled. “Anyway,in the weeks before my Junior prom, my mom forced me to learn how to do the waltz.” A corner of his mouth curled up at what was now one of his most treasured memories. “Every night after dinner, we’d push the table and chairs against the wall, and dance in the middle of the kitchen.”
“She was an excellent teacher. I bet she loved watching you and your date on the dance floor.”
A familiar pain struck his heart. “She didn’t see me.”
She raised a brow. “Please tell me you didn’t chicken out.”
“She didn’t see me dance because I didn’t go to my junior prom.”
Confused, Brynnon asked, “Why not?”
The memory was damn near as painful as the night it happened. Still, he found himself wanting to share it with her. “I came home from school that day and found her on the living room floor. She was unresponsive.”
“Oh, Grant. I’m so sorry.”
“I picked her up and carried her to my car. Drove like a bat out of hell across town to the hospital. They made me wait in the hallway even though I fought like mad to stay with her. I sat there, alone and waiting for what felt like hours. Prayed harder than I ever have for her to be okay. But, when the doctor came out of the room, I could see it on his face. Knew even before he said the words that she was gone.”
Brynnon’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “That must have been awful.”
“Yeah. It was.”
Her smile surprised him. “Your mother would have been so proud of the way you danced last night.”
And just like that, she took some of the sting away. Lifting his head, Grant pressed his lips to hers in a short, sweet kiss. “Thank you.”
“This is the SEAL Trident, right?” Her hand brushed across the artwork on his right pec.
“It is,” he answered. “Got it right after BUD/s.”
