Chapter Five
Adam
I couldn’t get Keri off the dance floor.
We danced for a solid hour. We grooved to every single song in the set.
I loved watching her come alive, her face beaming under the bright lights and her laughter pinging the air.
Strands of her blonde hair escaping her ponytail, framing her pretty, smiling face with each hitch-kick and do-si-do.
She clearly enjoyed herself, and so did I.
We made quite a spectacle boot-scooting, two-stepping, and cowboy cha-cha-ing across the dance floor to the hoots and hollers of the musicians and several locals.
Scratch that. I was the bumbling spectacle following her lead. Keri cheered me on, looking like a seasoned performer from the hit TV show, Dancing with the Stars.
I’m glad when the trio slows things down, the lead singer’s haunting rendition of Willie Nelson’s song, “Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground,” allowing me to hold her in my arms for more than a quick two-step. We are dangerously close to one another, her sweet, heated body pressed against mine.
“Not bad for a California man,” she says. Her eyes are dazzling, and her grin is infectious.
“Just because you live in the South doesn’t mean you’re the only one who loves classic country music,” I tease.
She licks her dewy lips. I notice the peony blush shaping her cheeks.
My fingers trace the soft sweater around her waist as she drapes her arms over my shoulders.
Her scent, sweet as vanilla and berries, drifts under my nose.
I like this version of Keri: mussed and relaxed in my arms. We sway to the slow rhythm, the air full of tender lyrics about love being the greatest healer.
“Are you having a good time?” I ask.
She nods and lifts her gaze to mine. “I am. Thank you for this.”
My brow creases. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m the one who should be thanking you, Miss Dance-Pants.” She throws her head back and laughs again, her audible expression of joy a thrill to my senses. “Seriously, Keri. Where did you learn to move like that? Did you take lessons or something?”
She chews on her lower lip to suppress another smile and shakes her head. “You don’t want to know.”
I squeeze my hands around her waist. “Oh, but I do.”
The song ends, and we break apart, clapping for the Franklin Trio before they take another break. I lean into her ear. “I need to check on Molly. You wanna come with me?”
Her smile is immediate, as if she’s pleased I asked. “Sure. Give me a minute to freshen up and close out my tab.”
“Okay.”
I wait by the bar, finishing the last sip of watered-down club soda. Janie approaches, her expression filled with delight.
“Y’all were tearing it up out there. Would you like a refill?” She points to my empty glass, and I wave her away.
“No thanks. And I’ll have you know, Keri’s the dancer. I was just following her lead.”
“Like all the other smitten fellas around here. Boy howdy, she wasn’t about to let anyone else cut in. No, sir. Our determined Angel Face is something else. When she finds something she likes, she holds onto it.”
“‘Angel Face?’”
Janie snickers. “It’s Keri’s nickname from high school. But don’t you be tellin’ her I told you that. She’d kill me.”
The Willie Nelson song we just danced to suddenly takes on a whole new meaning, the lyrics still thrumming through my head.
“So… you think Keri likes me, then?” I wiggle my eyebrows, making Janie laugh.
“Oh, yeah. In all my years, I’ve never seen that pretty girl buy another fella a drink at my bar. You must’ve done something nice for her to want to do that.”
My smile falters. If Janie knew the real reason Keri bought me a drink, she might be singing a different tune. I’m a jerk for boldly critiquing her marketing photo. I shouldn’t have done that. I feel bad.
Keri is suddenly by my side, her lips glistening from a fresh swipe of gloss and her hair slicked back into place. She’s perfect. “Are you ready? Or do you want another drink?”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Great.”
I watch her signal Janie, settle her tab, and blow the woman a perky kiss before we head for the exit.
I also notice how several men in the room track the sway of her hips as she sashays out of the bar, utterly carefree.
She isn’t tipsy, nor is she trying; it’s effortless.
It’s as if she’s been taught to walk with her head held high and her model stride on full display.
“Oh, that was so fun,” she sighs, once we’re outside.
“It was. And thanks again for the drink.”
“It was water, Adam. I hardly call that a drink.” She giggles.
“Well, I do have to drive tonight.”
“Responsible too? I like that.”
We meander across the ancient sidewalk under the moonlit sky, the spring air surrounding us turned cooler in the early evening. I inhale a deep, cleansing breath.
“So, Angel Face…”
“—Who told you?” she snaps, stopping on the pavement. She’s adorable, standing there with her hands pressed defiantly against her hips.
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.”
Molly gets in between us, her fluffy tail wagging eagerly.
“Where will you and Molly go tonight?” she asks me, scratching my dog behind the ears.
I nudge the sidewalk crack with my boot. “Probably the truck stop off the highway where I can rent a cheap shower stall. I’m gonna need one after all that dancing.” I glance up at her and wink, grinning flirtatiously.
She giggles before her expression turns pensive. “Is it safe to sleep in a van near the highway?”
“Oh, sure. Although I do prefer a campground or a secluded spot off the beaten path. But truck stops are well-lit and offer great perks for travelers like me. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’ve been playing this game for almost two years.”
“Two years?” She seems shocked.
“Yup. Plenty of time to figure out what works and what doesn’t.”
“Hmmm.” She looks toward her home on the second floor for a beat before she turns and smiles up at me, her voice barely above a whisper. “Well… be safe.”
“I will.” I take a bold step toward her and lightly touch my thumb across her lower lip.
I can feel her hot breath skate across my skin in a slow exhale.
Gosh, I want to kiss this woman on the mouth so bad.
I’ve wanted to kiss her all night. Instead, I lean in and press my lips against her cheek, whispering in her ear, “Good night, pretty Keri. I’ll see you tomorrow. ”
She steps back from me with a huge smile on her face and rolls her eyes, as if she’s disappointed I didn’t kiss her on the lips. I watch her ruffle Molly’s fur before she slowly turns on her boots and sashays across the street toward her home.
“Look at you,” I chuckle. “Fly on, fly on, Angel Face.”
She takes it a step further and dramatically flaps her arms, leaping into the air and mimicking a bird.
I laugh out loud watching her. When she gets to the other side, she turns and looks at me one last time, pausing to blow me a kiss.
I pretend to catch it and fist my hand over my heart. And that’s when it hits me.
Maybe everything before I came to Heartsboro was meant to happen so it would lead me to her.