16. Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Wyatt
The Books and Blooms Dance isn't really my thing—never has been, all that string light and bluegrass and forced togetherness. I tell myself I'm going because somebody's got to keep an eye on the crowd, make sure the food trucks don't block the fire lane, that kind of thing.
Who am I kidding.
I'm going because Savannah will be there.
I've known that since about six o'clock, when I changed shirts twice and told myself both times it didn't matter.
I see her the second I walk into the square.
She's standing near the dessert table in a blue dress, laughing at something Texie's saying, string lights catching in her hair.
She looks up, sees me and smiles.
The square's already full—folding chairs dragged into loose clusters, the band setting up under the oak tree, kids weaving through the crowd with sparklers nobody's supposed to have lit yet.
Ellie spots me before I've made it ten feet and comes barreling over...
“You're late,” she informs me.
“I'm exactly on time.”
She grabs my hand and starts towing me in that direction, undeterred by the fact that I've got an entire crowd to check on first.
“Savannah's here too. She's wearing a dress. A real one.”
“I noticed.”
“She looks like a princess.”
“She looks nice, El.”
Ellie isn’t fooled in the slightest. She then abandons me entirely the second Luke and Ben appear with a plate of cookies, off to more interesting business than her uncle's love life.
I spend the first part of the evening in sheriff mode, checking on the food vendors and helping with a table threatening to collapse under too many pies.
Mrs. Jenkins catches me near the band and insists on a dance. Halfway through, she asks if I've “reconnected” with “that Blake girl.”
“We're friends, Mrs. Jenkins.”
“Mm-hm.” She pats my arm, entirely unconvinced.
I don't have a comeback for that, so I just spin her the rest of the way through the song and let her enjoy winning.
Ellie gets a dance too, standing on my boots and giggling every time I spin her.
Texie claims the next one, although dancing doesn't seem to be her main objective.
“Nice night.”
“It is.”
“Nice dress Savannah's wearing.”
“I noticed.”
“Texie.”
She laughs and walks away entirely too pleased with herself.
I catch Savannah watching me once from across the square. She’s standing with Texie near the edge of the dance floor, and I’m about to head her way when Wes Dalton steps up beside her and holds out his hand.
I know Wes. We played football together in high school.
Appears like he’s learned how to dance since then.
Savannah laughs at something Wes says and lets him lead her onto the floor.
I stay where I am.
There’s no reason not to. I’ve been working the festival for most of the night, Savannah’s allowed to dance with whoever she wants, and Wes is a good guy. Single for a couple of years now, if I remember right.
That fact annoys me more than it should.
“You planning to stand there all night?”
“Eat your pie, Drew.”
“I think I might dance instead.”
I turn fully toward him. “You hate dancing.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”
“Since when?”
He looks pointedly at Savannah, then checks his watch with exaggerated concentration. “About thirty seconds ago.”
Now I know exactly what he’s doing.
I give him a long look. “You’re an idiot.”
Drew only grins and takes another bite. “Could be. But if you’re not going to ask her, somebody should.”
I gesture toward the dance floor. “Wes already did.”
“Good point.” Drew cranes his neck as if he’s checking how much longer the song has left. “Maybe I should get in line.”
He straightens his shirt with his free hand and gives me an obnoxious little nod.
He heads toward Savannah and the song ends before he gets there. Wes says something that makes Savannah laugh, gives her a little bow, and heads toward the drinks table.
Drew takes his place almost immediately.
Savannah hesitates over his offered hand, then catches sight of me across the square.
And just like that, she puts it together. The guys aren't suddenly interested in dancing. They're interested in giving me a hard time.
Suspicion replaces her smile.
I lift both hands. Don't blame me.
Drew is still standing in front of her, waiting.
“What are you and Wyatt scheming?”
“Me?” Drew presses a hand to his chest. “I'm asking a beautiful woman to dance.”
Savannah sends me one last silent plea for help.
Then she gives Drew one of her best smiles making sure he doesn't feel the least bit bad about asking, and takes his hand.
Savannah's too nice to leave him standing there.
I try to turn my attention back to the rest of the square, but there's not much point pretending. Every time Savannah circles into view, she finds me. Once she even gives me a little wave.
I give her one back, considerably less enthusiastically.
Drew walks Savannah back toward me when the music ends, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Sheriff.” He gives me a polite nod.
“Drew.”
“Thought I'd help you out, Sheriff.”
I give him a look. “You've been very helpful.”
“Happy to be of service.” He looks between us, fighting another grin. “I'm going to get some lemonade.”
“I think that's a good idea,” I tell him.
Savannah watches him go, then turns to me. “Your friends are strange.”
“You encouraged him.”
“I was being nice.”
“You smiled at me every time he spun you around.”
“Did I?” She folds her arms, trying for innocence and not getting anywhere close.
“Maybe I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me to dance.”
That gets me.
“You could've said something.”
“Wyatt, I was the first one to ask you to dinner. I think I've done my part.”
The band starts another song behind us, something lively enough to pull another wave of people onto the dance floor.
I hold out my hand. “Then I guess it's my turn.”
Savannah looks at my hand, and the teasing in her expression softens.
“Thank you, Sheriff. I’d love to dance with you.”
Her fingers settle into mine, and I lead her onto the dance floor.
For a man who's never particularly liked these things, I'm suddenly looking forward to this one.
The first song is fast enough that there isn't much room for conversation. Savannah follows my lead better than I expect, laughing when I nearly send us into another couple.
By the time the song ends, we are both laughing, and when the band rolls straight into something slower, neither of us makes a move to leave the dance floor.
I bring her in closer, one hand settling at her waist while hers rests on my shoulder.
“Better speed?” she asks.
“Much.”
“I thought you didn't like dances.”
“I'm reconsidering.”
She smiles at that, and we fall into an easy rhythm.
We're halfway through the song when something finally registers.
“Why is nobody else dancing?”
Savannah's lips press together like she's trying not to laugh.
The dance floor isn't completely empty, but close enough. A few couples have drifted toward the edges, and instead of dancing, half the town seems to be watching us.
Dad's sitting near the pie table with his arms folded, making absolutely no attempt at subtlety.
Texie's beside him, smiling into her lemonade.
Mrs. Jenkins catches me looking and gives me a cheerful little wave.
Drew and Wes are standing near the food tables, both grinning like this is exactly what they'd been working toward all night. Millie's stopped clearing plates. Even Ellie is watching from the edge of the dance floor with Luke and Ben.
I turn back to Savannah. “Are you kidding me?”
“Apparently we're the most interesting thing happening in Stonebridge tonight,” Savannah says.
“That's depressing.”
“For us or Stonebridge?”
“Both.”
The song comes to an end, and for one hopeful second I think that's going to be the end of it.
Then Drew starts clapping.
Wes joins him.
Dad does too.
Within seconds, enough people have joined in that Savannah looks at me, her eyes wide with equal parts embarrassment and disbelief.
I stare at the crowd, then back at Savannah. “We might as well give them what they want.”
She catches on immediately.
Still holding her hand, I step back and extend our joined hands between us. Savannah gathers the side of her dress with her free hand and dips into an elegant curtsy, like we've just finished the final round of a dance competition.
I give my best formal bow to the audience as well.
The applause gets louder.
Savannah straightens, laughing, and I can't help joining her.
“You people need something better to do,” I call.
Millie's answer comes from near the tables.
“Nothing's better than watching you two.”
That gets another round of laughter.
The band is supposed to be finished when the fiddle player leans toward the microphone.
“We've got one more in us.”
The first few notes are slow enough that the remaining couples start finding each other without being asked.
“One more?” I ask her while holding out my hand.
Her fingers slip into mine. “I was hoping you'd ask.”
This dance is nothing like the first one.
She comes into my arms easily, one hand settling against my shoulder while I draw her closer.
We make it through maybe half the song before her head comes to rest on my shoulder, her face pressed close to my neck.
I lower my cheek to the top of her head.
“This okay?” I ask quietly.
“More than okay.”
Her answer is muffled against my shirt.
I pull her a little closer.
She does the same.
“Wyatt?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm really glad I came home.”
Home.
I close my eyes for a second.
“I'm really glad you did too.”
We keep moving even after the song begins to fade, neither of us in much of a hurry to be the first one to let go.
I walk her to her car afterward, the square emptying out behind us, string lights still glowing over folding chairs and half-packed tables.
Savannah is still smiling when we reach her car.
“That was so much fun.”
“Even being the evening entertainment?”
She laughs. “Especially that. Wow, we really were a show, weren't we?”
“Everyone stopped dancing.”
“And applauded,” I add.
Savannah laughs, then takes a small step closer to me.
“You know, if we'd kissed, we probably would've gotten a standing ovation.”
“Savannah Blake, are you asking me to kiss you?”
She doesn't back away.
“Maybe I'm giving you an opportunity to ask me.”
“Ah.”
I look around the nearly empty square, making sure she sees me do it.
“No audience I can see.”
I close the little bit of distance she left between us.
“May I kiss you?”
Her smile answers first.
“I was hoping you'd ask.”
I cup her cheek and kiss her.
It's soft at first, almost careful, and then Savannah's hand comes to my chest and I forget every reason I had for taking it slow. I slide my other arm around her waist and bring her closer.
She smiles against my mouth.
“I'm just thinking the audience really missed out.”
I laugh against her lips. “Savannah, pay attention.”
“Sorry.”
I kiss her again, and this time she does.