Chapter 9
DANCE THE LINE
9
I bump into the person on my left, then the one on my right stomps on my toes as I move in the wrong direction. Panic flutters in my chest as I fumble with the steps, desperately trying to find an escape. But I’m blocked by a wall of people on all sides.
I’ve never line danced before in my life. I don’t know the steps. My best option to get a hang of the choreography is to copy the people in front of me and try to keep up as best as I can. Step to the right, step behind, step to the side. Knee up. Left, left, left. Knee up. A step forward, knee up. Again. Three steps back, knee up. Move the hips. Turn to a new wall.
I do better on the second wall, and by the third, I’m able to enjoy the dance. And even add a flare of removing my cowboy hat as I touch step forward, touch step backward. Yee-haw!
The wooden floorboards thrum under my feet. The air is thick and warm, mingling scents of sawdust and the sweet tang of spilled beer. Laughter and whoops fill the space, echoing off the high rafters as the barn bar pulsates with energy, every corner alive with the rhythm of loud, upbeat country music.
With every knee jerk and hip sway, the heat from the surrounding bodies, once overwhelming, fuels my stamina. My feet move fluidly now, in sync with the crowd. Boots scoot in perfect unison, and I sing along with the chorus of a song I didn’t even know I knew.
I spin, my cowboy hat held high, as a fresh wave of laughter bubbles up from my chest. I clap and stomp along until the song ends, and a new one begins. There’s a brief pause in the room where we all catch our breath, sharing smiles and nods with strangers. Then, as the first chords of the next slower ballad ring out, the ranks break and people pair up instead.
Fun as this has been, I take the new song as my cue to edge off the dance floor.
Exhausted, I scan the dingy bar for a clue who I might be here with when my gaze inadvertently locks onto Killian’s. He’s perched on a high stool, elbows nonchalantly resting on the table behind him, beer bottle in hand. His lopsided smirk pulls me in like a magnet as he carelessly drops his beer on the table and slides off the stool. Never breaking eye contact, he stalks toward me, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. I dry my palms on my jeans as he approaches, not sure if I should keep completely still or try to make a run for it.
My heart races as I stand there, waiting for him to close the gap between us with each purposeful stride. He stops only when our toes nearly touch. He’s so close I smell his woodsy cologne.
“Sugar.” He nods.
“Evil landlord.” I nod back. “Isn’t there anyone else you’d rather pester?”
“Not when you’re the only one wearing my hat. May I have it back?” he drawls in that honeyed voice, plucking the cowboy hat from my head.
So I was wearing his hat? Which I stole to go line dancing—fantasy me is a riot. I bite my lip to hide a smile as he puts the hat back on.
“Of course.” I feign confidence despite my pounding heart. “But I must say, it looked better on me.” As I drink him in, I try to recall how or why on earth I thought it was a good idea to steal his hat. I hate missing bits and pieces of this fantasy life. Hate. It. So. Much.
“Sure thing. But I still prefer to have the hat back.” His eyes sparkle with amusement. “I suppose I’ll forgive the theft if you save me a dance.”
He’s funny. “You’re funny.” I edge to the side, reading my escape. “Not happening.”
Killian blocks my path with his body. “You don’t have a choice, Spoon.”
I blink up at him. “Meaning?”
“You owe me.”
“Seriously? You’d use your boon just for a dance with me?”
“I can’t think of anything better.”
For a moment, I consider protesting, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes it hard to refuse. I give him a small nod and offer my hand.
Killian goes for my waist instead, pulling our bodies flush on the dance floor. His other hand intertwines with mine, holding it gently yet securely. As we begin to move to the music, the hand on my waist slides to the small of my back, guiding our movements. We sway together, our steps matching the rhythm of the slow song playing in the background.
Heat radiates off him, and every brush of his body against mine sends waves of electricity through me. Okay, now that he puts it like this, a dance seems very… mmm… worthy.
Killian’s eyes are locked on mine, and the rest of the world fades in the distance, leaving just the two of us gliding across the floor.
His thumb strokes a knot on my spine, and I involuntarily shiver under his touch. His smile is barely there, just the hint of something more playing at the corners of his lips.
“Why do you look at me like that?” I ask on a breath.
“Because I can,” he whispers back, his voice low and husky. “Because you want me to.” He leans closer now, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “Because you look at me the same.”
There’s an unspoken promise hanging in the air between us, a challenge I’m not sure I’m ready to confront.
But there’s also an undeniable truth in his words, a recognition that sends a jolt of anticipation through me. I’m aware of the pressure of his fingers on my back, the scent of him that wraps around me like a cloak. My pulse quickens, and I realize that this isn’t just a dance anymore. Or even a fantasy.
Because the way I feel about him right now is anything but fictional.
I let go of his hand and push back, shaking my head. “I can’t do this.”
In a panic, I rush off the dance floor and across the barn, scanning the walls until I find an exit.
The cool night air greets me like a slap as I burst through the doors, a stark contrast to the warmth left behind by Killian’s touch. I turn the corner and lean against the barn’s rough exterior, my breaths coming in short bursts as I try to calm the storm within me.
The music fades into a muffled throb behind me. Above, the stars twinkle like a multitude of watchful eyes, none offering any guidance or solace.
I hear the barn door open and then bang shut, but I don’t need to turn to know that he’s standing behind me.
“Running away?”
Killian’s voice isn’t loud, but it cuts through the quiet of the night with the precision of a knife. I don’t answer, but my silence speaks volumes.
He doesn’t come any closer. Instead, his footsteps crunch softly on the gravel as he moves to stand opposite me. One shoulder leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, expression pissed off, ready to blow a fuse.
“Can we just not?” I scoff.
“Why?”
“Because none of this matters, it’s all just a dream. You’re just a dream…”
He reaches out and pinches my arm.
“Ouch.” I jolt back. “What did you do that for?”
“Last I checked, dream men can’t pinch arms.”
Arms, maybe not. Hearts? I’m pretty sure they can.
I cast a wary glance at him, rubbing the spot where his fingers have dug in.
Killian pushes himself off the barn and takes a step closer. I plaster my back against the side of the building, trying to find support or to feel less exposed, I don’t know. But it’s not a brilliant move because next thing, Killian is caging me in, his palms flat on the wall on either side of my face.
“Tell me I’m the only one in this, that you want nothing to do with me, and I’ll leave you alone.”
I swallow. I know kissing him would be a mistake, that I’ll regret it later when no real man will compare to a perfectly constructed fantasy hero. But gosh, for once in my life, I want to let go, to get lost in this dream. Just for a minute. An hour. Just until morning.
He’s so close now I can count the individual dark lashes around his eyes, take in every detail of his beautiful face. I’m dying to trace my finger over that faint scar above his right eyebrow. To ask him how he got it, to learn everything about him there is to learn.
I try not to let my gaze drop to his lips, but it’s darn near impossible. He notices, and that sinful mouth of his quirks up at one corner.
It’s the last straw. I want this. I want him.
And so I give myself permission. I surrender to the now, to the dream of being wrapped in the arms of my personal book boyfriend, a living, breathing embodiment of every fictional romance hero I’ve ever swooned over.
I close my eyes, and welcome the warmth radiating from his body. I tilt my head up slightly. A silent invitation. His breath hitches, a sound barely audible yet monumental in the stillness between us before he closes the remaining distance. His lips are soft against mine, but commanding in their movements, a gentle pressure that feels like the sealing of a promise I’m not sure I should be making.
I tangle my hands in his hair, sending his hat flying to the ground, but neither of us bothers to even look at it.
Time slows to a crawl, every sensation magnified. The soft texture of his hair between my fingers; the faint scent of hay and horse that clings to him; the pressure of his lips on mine. Killian’s hands slide from the wall to wrap around my waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us.
I lose myself in the kiss, in the feeling of being held so close, in the way his body molds to mine. He deepens the kiss, and a thrill courses through me, igniting every nerve ending. Our breaths mingle. His heartbeat echoes against my chest, a steady drumming that matches the pounding of my heart.
I pull back slightly, gasping for air, my forehead resting against his. Killian’s eyes are dark with desire, a mirror of my own emotions. But there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that makes my heart clench.
“Why can’t you be real?” I whisper, the words escaping me before I can think better of them.
Killian’s thumb strokes my cheek softly. “Does it matter?” His voice is low, filled with a raw honesty that strips away any pretense.
I shake my head slowly, knowing it shouldn’t matter, but also knowing it does. Because this moment, this connection, feels more profound than any fleeting fantasy.
“I don’t know what this is,” I admit, my voice trembling. “But I don’t want it to end.”
His lips curve into a tender smile. “Then let’s not end it.”
And with that, he pulls me back into his arms, his kiss a reassurance that, for now, we’re both here in this moment together. The world outside this embrace fades away, leaving only the two of us, caught in a timeless space where nothing else exists but the warmth of his lips and the beat of our hearts. We kiss until we’re out of breath. Until our lips are too tender and swollen. Until it’s time to wake up.