11. Neesha #2
Dawson gives Lucian a look I can’t quite figure out. “Yeah. We’ve met before. How’s it going?” He reaches out a hand to shake Lucian’s.
“Great,” Lucian says, clasping his palm. Another look is exchanged between the men before Lucian releases his hand. “Just enjoying the festival.”
“First time?” Dawson asks.
“Yes, Neesha’s my official tour guide. ”
Emmy beams. “Well, you two look adorable together. Almost like a real date.”
“It is a real date,” I say quickly, then immediately wonder why I felt the need to clarify that. “I mean, a real practice date.”
Emmy and Dawson glance at each other before Emmy grins knowingly. “Well, we’ll leave you to your… practicing .”
As they walk away, I catch Emmy giving me an enthusiastic thumbs up behind Lucian, who’s noticeably quiet.
“Welcome to Maple Falls, where everyone knows your business before you do,” I say. “I hope you’re not having second thoughts about this whole practice thing.”
“Not at all. I was just thinking…”
Before he can finish, Mary-Ellen appears, as if she has a sixth sense for awkward timing. “Neesha, dear! Isn’t this the same man who fixed your broken espresso machine? And now you’re here together…on a date!” If her smile were any bigger, it would practically crack her face.
“Mary-Ellen, don’t you have somewhere else to be?” She’s usually manning a booth at the festival instead of grilling innocent couples.
“Not when there’s such a juicy development happening right here,” she says, completely immune to social cues.
Her eyes dart between us like she’s watching a tennis match.
“You know, dear, he’s much more handsome than you described when we were talking.
Just look at those blue eyes. It’s like someone ordered the deluxe boyfriend package. ”
“I never described—” I start, my face heating.
“And you look so cute together,” she continues obliviously, “I haven’t seen chemistry like this since my last romance novel!”
Lucian coughs, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Mom!” Mabel’s voice cuts across the festival as she hurries over with Fiona, both looking slightly out of breath. “There you are. We’ve been hunting for you ever since we lost you at the Ice Breakers autograph booth. ”
Mary-Ellen sighs like she’s been caught again. “I suppose duty calls.”
As Mabel physically steers her away, Mary-Ellen calls over her shoulder, “And I expect a full report later, Neesha! And I mean full !”
“Thank you,” I mouth to Mabel, who winces at me apologetically before taking her mother as far away as possible.
“Sorry about that,” I tell Lucian, picking at my mac and cheese. “Subtlety is a foreign concept to Mary-Ellen. And for the record, I didn’t describe you to her. She must have me mixed up with someone else.”
“I don’t mind being the deluxe package,” he says, looking more amused than bothered. “By the way, I wanted to give you something. For our first date.”
He pulls a tiny, wooden figure from his pocket. It’s a perfect miniature cupcake, carved with such intricate detail I can see the swirled frosting on top. The craftsmanship is incredible—every ridge and curve carved with care.
“Where did you get this?” I ask, turning it over in my palm.
“I made it. I’ve been carving wood since I was a kid,” he confesses, shifting in his seat, like this isn’t something he shares with many people.
“When I have things to think about, I carve. Helps me work through stuff. After we talked about the cupcake charm on your bracelet, I got the idea of carving one for you to remember your mom.”
He noticed. He remembered. And he made this beautiful piece just for me, to honor my mother and my dream of opening a bakery. No one has ever paid attention to details like that before. Certainly not Nate, who probably couldn’t have told you what jewelry I wore if his life depended on it.
“Thank you,” I murmur, marveling at this tiny gift before slipping it into my pocket, just as the sound of fiddle music begins again loudly.
“Oh, no,” I groan. “I should have warned you. The town takes its square dancing very seriously. ”
As if on cue, Mrs. Nelson appears at the microphone. “Everyone to the dance floor. Don’t be shy now!”
“Would you like to try it?” Lucian asks, offering his hand.
I eye his outstretched hand warily. “Give me one good reason to humiliate myself while everyone in town watches.”
“Because you’re my tour guide, and this is part of the authentic Maple Falls experience. Plus, I promised Mimi I’d take pictures. And you know she won’t be satisfied unless she sees you’re doing your job.”
“Then take a selfie of us now, so we have proof that I didn’t back out of this, okay?”
He scoots beside me on the bench and takes out his phone, then casually leans into the shot, his arm brushing my shoulders in a split second of electricity that shoots through my body.
He smells good, way too good . And he’s so incredibly handsome, especially when he smiles.
He barely touches me, but the static crackling between us feels like something’s going to ignite.
He snaps the picture, then wiggles his fingers, inviting me to stand. “Come on. I promise not to let you embarrass yourself.”
Mrs. Nelson notices me still parked on the picnic table bench. “Neesha Gilmore, you need to report to the dance floor right now or I’m going to assign that young man to a different partner.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Lucian leads me to the makeshift dance floor lined with hay bales and twinkle lights overhead. The setting is actually quite romantic, if you can ignore the fact that half the town is here.
We join three other couples forming a loose square formation as Lucian bows like a gentleman while I attempt what I hope passes for a curtsy.
Lucian grins at my embarrassment. “You already look like a natural.”
“I look like a fraud.”
“Allemande left with your corner!” the caller instructs.
I look at Lucian in panic. “I have no idea what that even means.” The man next to me takes my left hand and we walk in a circle. When I get back to Lucian, I’m slightly panicking.
“Do-si-do your partner!” the caller says.
“What?” I ask.
Lucian twirls his finger in a loose circle. “Like this,” he says as we move around each other, back-to-back.
I’m so nervous, I nearly collide with him. “Easy,” he murmurs, reaching his hand out to steady me. “I’ve got you.”
“Promenade around the ring!” the caller says next.
Lucian takes my hands and we walk around the outside of our square with the other couples. I don’t know what it is—his touch, his calm—but somehow, being held by Lucian makes my nerves fade a little.
“See?” he says with a grin. “You’re doing great.”
“Well, I haven’t fallen down yet, but give it time.”
“I won’t let that happen,” he says, squeezing my hand.
“Swing your partner!” the caller commands.
Lucian’s arm comes around my waist as he pulls me close, and we begin to turn in a gentle swing.
His hand spans the small of my back, while his other hand holds mine.
I look up to find his blue eyes focused entirely on me, like he’s forgotten about the other couples around us.
Something in his expression makes my heart beat double time. Not from nerves, but from him .
That gaze should be illegal. No man should look at someone like that unless he’s planning to ruin them for everyone else.
“Hey,” he murmurs, so quietly only I can hear it over the music.
“Hey,” I say.
This is supposed to be practice. It’s supposed to mean nothing. But the way he’s looking at me right now—it doesn’t feel like practice at all. I want to climb this man like a monkey scaling a tree.
I try to concentrate on the steps, but the rest of the dance becomes a blur of promenades and do-si-dos while I’m hyperaware of every time his hand touches mine.
When the music ends, I feel a small twinge of disappointment that it’s over, until Lucian attempts a bow and nearly knocks into Mrs. Nelson.
I burst out laughing, and he does too, and just like that, all the tension disappears.
“See?” Lucian says. “We’re not that bad.”
“Not great either,” I say, but I can’t stop smiling. I’ve mostly forgotten that I hate dancing and crowds and being watched by everyone. Because Lucian did something no man can do, especially not on a first date. He made me feel comfortable. Safe. I only wish every date felt this way.
When we turn around to exit the dance floor, a stranger approaches Lucian, glancing at a festival map. “Excusez-moi,” he says with the most authentic French accent I’ve ever heard. “Can you direct me to the…how do you say…pumpkin patch?”
I lean toward Lucian and whisper, “I had no idea the town hired such good actors for Maple Fest.”
Lucian presses his lips together, fighting a smile. “Uh, I don’t think he’s an actor.”
“What?” the stranger says innocently. “I am just looking for the…goods?”
Lucian cough-laughs. “You mean gourds .”
I look between them, confused. “The pumpkin patch is that way,” I say, pointing. “You aren’t from around here, are you? Would you like me to introduce you to someone who can show you around?”
“No! Thank you!” He backs away quickly, nearly tripping over a pumpkin.
“That was weird,” I say, watching him hurry away. “He acted like he knew you.”
“It’s a small-town festival. Everybody knows each other,” Lucian says with a shrug, though he glances back once more. “How about some cider?”
Without waiting for my answer, he guides me toward the cider booth, taking a route that seems deliberately out of the way .
I put my hands in my pockets, trying to warm them up now that the night is turning cooler. “This has been…”
“Everything you feared?” he finishes with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry for the interruptions. I think we’re drawing more attention than I realized.”
“No, I was going to say fun. Even with the interruptions.”
He looks over at me, surprised. “So the practice date is a success?”
“Well, I haven’t used the escape clause yet.”
“The night is still young, though.” His mouth hitches up on one side. “Plenty of time for me to mess this up.”
“You’re doing okay so far,” I say, bumping his shoulder with mine playfully. “Better than okay.”
His smile widens. “That’s all that matters.”
I shiver slightly and he stops walking, his eyes scanning over me. Without a word, he shrugs out of his jacket and steps closer, so close that his breath grazes my skin as he drapes it over my shoulders.
His movements are deliberate as his fingers brush along my collarbone to adjust the collar, sending tingles across my skin. The jacket envelops me in his scent, making me want to bury my face in the fabric.
“Better?” he asks in a low voice. I can only nod because words seem impossible when his hands are still resting on my shoulders, his thumbs tracing the smallest circles through the jacket material.
The touch is so light I might be imagining it, but the heat spreading through my chest tells me it’s very real.
I should step back. Create distance. Remember this is just practice.
Instead, I tilt my chin up to meet his gaze, and it’s the same look from before—the intense one that makes me melt . We’re standing close enough that I can see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, feel the rise and fall of his chest.
“Neesha,” he says quietly.
“Yeah? ”
He pauses, searching for words. “This doesn’t feel like practice anymore.”
My heart does a little flip. “No?”
“It feels like…”
He’s about to say something when a group of rowdy kids push past us in line, breaking the moment.
Without thinking, I step closer to Lucian’s side, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against mine.
His arm comes up instinctively on the small of my back, and I don’t move away.
I tell myself it’s just because it’s crowded, and we’re supposed to be showing everyone I’m over Nate.
But the truth is being close to Lucian feels like coming home after being lost for the last year.
With Nate, I was always second-guessing myself, wondering if I was too much or not enough. But with Lucian, I feel like I can just be . He looks at me like I’m the only person in his world.
“What were you saying?” I ask.
“Who’s next?” the lady at the cider booth calls out.
His mouth opens, but I can see the moment has passed. Whatever he was about to tell me is lost now, tucked behind that careful grin.
He turns and steps to the counter to buy two ciders while I wrap my arms around my waist suddenly missing his warmth.
What would this be like if it weren’t just practice?
The thought is both scary and exhilarating—like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing that jumping might be the most wonderful mistake I could make.
“So,” he says casually, handing me my steaming cider, “think you might need more practice after this? Because this was the easy lesson, where I don’t do any coaching, just let you get comfortable.”
I hide a smile behind the cup. “The easy lesson, huh? Does that mean I passed?”
“With flying colors. But I’m thinking we might need a few more lessons…for thoroughness . ”
“Thoroughness?” I look at him skeptically, trying to ignore the way my pulse speeds up. “That sounds somewhat suspicious, especially since you’re supposed to be helping me practice for other people.”
“Maybe I’m not being entirely selfless here,” he admits, his mouth curving up on one side. “The truth is, I don’t want you practicing for anyone else. Maybe I only want you practicing with me.”
He flashes that easy smile, sending my heart into a tailspin. That’s when I remember I haven’t used the escape clause tonight—and I don’t even want to.