Nothing about it apologizes.
Nothing about her apologizes.
She inhales, and I track it without meaning to.
Her chest rises, and some idiot across from us nearly leans face-first into his dessert trying to get a better look.
I turn slowly.
Meet his eyes.
Let him see exactly what I’m thinking.
He drops his gaze.
Good.
A low growl vibrates in my chest before I can stop it.
Kelly notices.
Of course she does.
She licks her lips.Her small hand lands on my thigh.
And I nearly lose my composure right there in front of God and the Woodhaven Lumber Association.
Christ.
This woman.
My eyes snap to hers and I see it—recognition.Curiosity.
That flicker of uncertainty.
That tiny thread of fear.
That’s what reins me in.
I don’t want her scared.
I don’t want her pressured.
I want her choosing me.
Head high.Eyes open.
No doubt.
No trepidation.
I set my espresso down and push back my chair.
“Let’s dance,” I say, standing and offering her my hand.
She looks at it for a beat.
Then up at me.
