I laugh and palm her arm. “Don’t be mad. Janie let it slip, that’s all. I think it suits you.”
“You do?”
Her blue eyes glisten in the lamplight as she stares back at me. I can’t help myself and reach out to tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. As much as this woman tries to portray perfection, I’m growing quite fond of noticing those tiny,unraveled bits she sometimes misses. It only makes me want to mess her up a little bit more.
“I do think it suits you. Where did the nickname come from?”
She looks down at her boots and starts walking again. “My friends in high school. Don’t laugh, but I’m one of those Southern girls who got involved in beauty pageants back in the day.”
I realize it all makes sense now. Her professional attire for work. The hand-on-hip pose and toothy smile in her marketing photo. She has effortless dance moves and an undeniable presence at the bar. Her model walk drew all eyes in the room to her fit, toned body. She’s a mix of confidence and beauty. Poise and talent. Preparation and effort. No wonder it’s hard for her to relax and be herself. She’s been trained to be what she thinks others want to see.
But I also notice her hesitancy, and that vulnerable look in her eyes that no one else really sees. I’m not sure why she’s opted to show me that side of herself, but I know I need to handle it with care. She’s more sensitive than she lets on.
“Am I laughing?” I ask.
“No.” She playfully punches me in the arm.
I catch her by the hand before she has time to pull away and press my lips to her skin in a tender kiss.
Her body rises in a deep intake of air, our eyes fixated on one another.
“Just breathe, Keri,” I whisper against her hand.
Her nod is slow, and she remains quiet, her blue eyes wide and watchful. Her expression is fractured with uncertainty.
I want to tell her that I think some people are meant to meet and that I truly believe our paths crossed for a reason. It’s as if fate has been closely watching, even smiling down on us this entire day because it knew this moment was coming. Something pre-written and slightly old-fashioned.
Earlier, when I held her hand and led her to the dance floor, old feelings of contentment and romance came flooding back. It’s as if our dance was always meant to happen. And once it did, those fleeting, magical memories of my past resurfaced.
Keri reminds me of home.
I feel like I know her from somewhere before. How else can I describe the immediate comfort that settles over me just by being around her? That feeling that only comes with knowing someone forever? I love that we’re talking and getting to know each other. She’s the first person in two agonizing years I’ve ever wanted to share my story with.
But it’s too soon. I know this. That’s why I let go of her hand and take a step back.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
I hate the look of confusion marring her beauty. “I enjoyed tonight. Very much.”
“Me too.”
We’re almost to my van, and I can see Molly sticking her nose out of the top of the cracked window, waiting to be let out.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” I ask.
“I’ll be at the Lavender Festival at Jamison Farm. Come find me there. And bring your camera. You’re going to see a ton of beautiful photo opportunities there.”
“Awesome.” We stop walking. I unlock the van, open the driver’s side door, and let Molly out. She gives me a head bump before she immediately goes to the nearest tree and pees. Keri and I haven’t taken our eyes off each other.
“You want me and Molly to walk you back to the bar?”
“No. I’m heading home.”
“Where’s home?” She turns and points at the brick building right across the street. I notice a beam of lamplight raining down on the sidewalk from a second-story window. “You live up there?”
“I do. I own the building. My office is downstairs, right below my apartment. It’s very convenient.”
“I’ll say.”
