Chapter 11 #2
“What?” Becca looked between all of us. “What did I say?”
The three other women burst out laughing again.
I rolled my eyes and spun away to get outside for some air—and maybe a Tiger’s Blood snow cone—and smacked into a wall of muscle.
I knew it was Ian before his strong hands steadied me. The scent of his cologne permeated the air. Woodsy pine and rich amber had me leaning in before I could stop myself.
I could see damp perspiration in the vee of his neck. He’d taken off the bandana and stuffed it into his back pocket at some point in the night. And, thank the good Lord for that, because what a shame it had been to cover up the long line of his throat or any part of that sharp jawline.
“Whoa, there,” Ian said.
“If you call me ‘little lady,’ I’ll deck you.”
He grinned like I was hilarious. “Actually, I wanted to see if you’d like to dance.” I opened my mouth to say no, but he continued, “I know you don’t line dance. I asked the deejay if he’d play something slower.”
Just then, the opening of an old Tim McGraw song filtered through the dance hall.
“What do you say?” Ian wasn’t smiling now. In fact, he looked very serious. The masculine throat I’d been admiring moved in a hard swallow.
There were a hundred reasons why I should say no. It was wrong to encourage this—whatever it was. He was young and temporary. We were more opposite than we could ever be alike.
But when I’d been thinking of Ian earlier, and how he hadn’t made a single move since admitting that he wanted to date me, I’d been . . . well, I’d been disappointed, truth be told.
Maybe we were too different. His life was one I could never fit into. But I liked him. Had for a while now. He was charming and funny—which didn’t impress me much—but he was also humble and kind. A good man who loved his nephew and valued the people in his life.
If most women went for charisma and sex appeal, then I wasn’t ever going to be most women.
Integrity was what I valued. Loyalty was sexy as hell, in my book. Dedication was what did it for me.
So when Ian wiggled his fingers in invitation, I slipped my hand into his and nodded.
There was a moment—brief and humbling—when surprised delight flickered across Ian’s features. Something subtle, there and gone in an instant, but very clearly tinged with relief.
It felt like I’d made the right decision—the honest one.
He led me onto the center of the dance floor. No wallflower hovering on the fringes. Dozens of eyes focused on us as Ian slipped one arm around my waist and brought our linked fingers to rest against his chest.
Our movements were smooth as he guided us. It seemed unfair that a body that big and masculine should be graceful, too. He was warm as we shifted together, heat radiating from his tall frame.
“I noticed you weren’t partaking,” Ian said lightly.
“Not tonight. Someone has to get these drunk disasters home.”
Our attention strayed to the booth at the same time.
And Jesus Christ, all six women were staring right at us.
Immediately, they burst into a flurry of activity to appear nonchalant.
Candace grabbed a bar menu the size of a postcard, and she and Bonnie both attempted to hide behind it.
Larry and Corie turned toward one another and pretended to be deep in conversation.
Mac, inexplicably, looked up at the ceiling as if she was expecting some rain any minute now.
And Becca, God bless her. Becca grinned and gave us a little wave.
Ian chuckled even as I grumbled under my breath.
“You have good friends,” Ian said.
“You’re just saying that because they’re all on your side.”
“Whatever do you mean?” he playacted dramatically.
I snorted. “You know that if you kissed me right now, they’d stand up on that table and cheer.”
His eyes, still somehow bright and tempting, even in the spinning strobe lights, sparkled as he regarded me. “Ah, but what would you do, dear Joan, if I kissed you right now?”
I read the challenge in his words, the dare. But even though my brain knew he was teasing, my body didn’t. My throat went dry at the prospect. My heart rate kicked into a gallop.
He didn’t give me the chance to answer. Instead, he shook his head. “No, I know you better than that. You don’t have to worry.”
“Oh, really?”
“I wouldn’t kiss you in front of all these people. Not for the first time, at least. You’d kill me if it ended up in the Facebook group. Some blurry photo and unwanted attention instead of an intimate moment between two people.”
“Thought a lot about this hypothetical first kiss, have you?” My voice was playful, but I could feel my pulse in my fingertips where they rested on his nape.
“Oh.” He grinned, and both dimples appeared. “You have no idea.”
Heat bloomed in my chest . . . and lower. A heavy warmth settled below my belly button.
Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t want him to kiss me in front of all my friends. Or in any public place where we’d be exposed and judged. But maybe I did want him to kiss me.
And the fact that he’d thought about it, too, I didn’t—I couldn’t—
My face must have revealed some of my panic because his steps faltered for a beat, and his dimples disappeared.
“Hey, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t my—”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” I hurried to reassure him. And it was true. He’d never once made me feel threatened or anything like that. But I did feel vulnerable, and that might have been worse.
“I’m not uncomfortable,” I repeated. “I just don’t understand why someone with their face on three different magazine covers in the Winn-Dixie checkout line—”
“Is it just three this week?” he wondered idly.
I glared.
“Sorry.” He squeezed my hand. “Continue.”
I blew out a breath and admitted, “I just don’t know how to understand this. You and me.”
Ian glanced down briefly as a slight smile tilted up the corners of his lips. The pressure on the small of my back eased momentarily as I felt his hand flex against me before bringing us even closer together. Our thighs brushed, and I suddenly became aware of every point of contact.
The strength in his frame. The tight muscles under my hand. His steady, reassuring grip as he continued to hold me and move us effortlessly around the dance floor.
Then, so softly that I had to lean closer to hear, he said, “You’d give me a ride to the airport, if I asked.
You’d change my tire if you found me on the side of the road.
You’d do everything in your power to drag me out of a burning building, but you don’t trust me enough to go on a date with me.
To eat food together. It’s utterly fascinating. ”
“I don’t want to be fascinating,” I told him, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.
“Too bad. I’m practically intrigued at this point. Next stop is enamored.”
Ian
Joan shook her head like she was resigned, but she smiled, clearly in spite of herself. But my words made her look away. Like I’d given her a compliment she didn’t know what to do with.
To ease her suffering, I admitted, “I’m trying to not be such a spoiled celebrity baby. Was that what you called me?”
That got her attention.
“I don’t think I used those words,” she said primly.
I chuckled. “I think you did, but that’s okay. You were right.”
“Ian, you don’t need to change yourself because I gave you shit about doing your own laundry.”
I shrugged, painfully aware of her palm resting on my shoulder, enjoying her touch a little too much for how close we were dancing.
“I like when you give me shit about stuff. It can be our love language. Quick, give me shit about something else.”
She stared at me incredulously, and I laughed outright.
“Come on. Hit me with something. I know you want to,” I teased.
“This hat.” She raised our clasped hands and tapped the brim with one finger. “We’re in North Carolina, not Texas.”
“Y’all don’t wear these here?”
“No, but I appreciate you taking y’all for a test drive.”
I grinned. “Well, if I’m wearing the hat, I guess I’ll never fit in.”
With that, I took off the brand-new Stetson and popped it on her head instead. “You already fit in, so you can pull it off.”
She looked affronted for half a second, then shrugged. “We are in a country western bar. It probably won’t hurt my reputation too much.”
“That’s the spirit,” I forced out before clearing my throat. She looked entirely too good.
The flannel she wore, I’d seen before. The jeans, too, though they did incredible things for her ass.
But her features were softer in the rainbow lights bouncing around the dance floor, pale eyes otherworldly as they reflected the spectrum of colors.
Her short hair had a wave to it tonight.
Like she’d taken the time to curl it, but her impatient hands had tugged all but the most stubborn coils loose.
This was the first time I’d ever seen her wearing makeup.
Joan’s stern, expressive brows were defined and elegant.
Her lips, plump and shiny with gloss. I knew the dramatic winged liner was Larry’s handiwork.
Mac’s sassy, outspoken cousin had done up all the women tonight.
Even with the changes, I could still see the real Joan beneath. The truth was there in the fierce narrowing of her eyes, the sharpness of every expression, the way she seemed to always see through me.
And with my hat on her head, looking the way she did, I wanted to break my promise about kissing her in front of everyone.
The truth was, she’d fit in anywhere in this town, cowboy hat or not. She was welcome in every establishment, esteemed by any business owner. The Judds were staples in Kirby Falls, and everyone knew and respected Joan. It was just the way of things here.
What did it feel like to be so accepted, so embedded in a community?
I knew small towns could be hell on reputations.
People got labeled at young ages. I was sure there were screwups who wished they could change how they were seen, bad apples who’d long since shaped up.
But did the people of Kirby Falls allow for second chances?
Or did they cling to the past in favor of the future?
I wanted to know.
I’d never made sense to my parents or my sister. My hometown was just somewhere I was from. Los Angeles was simply a destination for the career I’d always wanted. A pin on a map where dreams were made.
For as much as I liked and wanted Joan, I envied her, too. She knew exactly who she was and where she belonged. And I’d never managed to fit in anywhere.
“Do you wear cowboy hats in Los Angeles?” she said, and I realized this was the first time she’d ever asked me about my life in California.
“When the mood strikes. Or if a role calls for it. I did play a rancher once.”
“Is that where you learned to line dance?” she wondered. “I can’t imagine that comes up often in your line of work, though.”
I laughed. “No, it doesn’t. But my job is basically glorified memorization.”
Her fingers suddenly stopped dancing across my nape. I wondered if she’d even been aware she was doing it.
I sure was.
Very aware. And I didn’t want her to stop.
But she resumed after a moment and said incredulously, “You mean you learned all those line dances here? Tonight?”
I shrugged, surprised that she seemed so taken aback. It was just dancing. “I’ve always been good at remembering lines and hitting my marks, blocking for scenes. This was just memorizing steps and following along.”
“Huh,” she replied, completely dumbfounded. “That’s amazing.”
It would have been nice if she was impressed by normal things, like award nominations or biceps. Still, I was pleased that she found something about me to praise, even if it wasn’t my new ability to wash a load of laundry on the gentle cycle.
The slow set ended as the upbeat notes of “A Bar Song” filtered through the speakers.
Joan released me, and I reluctantly let her step out of my arms.
“Thanks for the dance,” I told her.
“Guess I better herd these cats and get them home.” She wouldn’t meet my eyes, and I felt a sense of urgency to stretch out a hand and draw her back to me. That if she took another step away, she’d be out of my reach, and we’d be back to square one.
So, I said, “I’ll help. I didn’t drink either. I’ll drive whoever you want.”
Her eyes found mine, at last. “Thank you. That would be a big help. Even getting them into the car. They’ll be way more likely to listen to you.”
I glanced toward the booth to see Candace slumped against Becca, who petted her hair. “And I have the added benefit of being able to carry your sister.”
Joan turned around and groaned.
“Come on, Coach. We’ve got this.”
I held out my fist.
She smiled and bumped it softly. “Okay, then.”