Chapter Nine
THE STUPID LINE DANCING class started in five minutes. Hunter had been sitting in his truck for fifteen. He told himself it was just because he wanted to get to a good pausing point in the history podcast he was listening to, but the episode was over, and still, here he was.
His phone lit up with a message. He opened it to find an animated gif of a chicken, sent by Lucas of course.
Fucking hell.
Without giving himself any more time to think about it, he shoved open the door and got out. The parking lot outside the community center was way too full. What was the appeal of flailing your limbs around in unison?
Apparently, he was about to find out.
On his way in, he passed a few people he knew, more than one of whom looked at him in shock that he’d actually shown up. He forced a smile in greeting but kept moving. Folks were milling around outside the big event room, and he scanned the crowd.
“Oh, Hunter! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He turned to find Granny standing near the entrance with a handful of her senior citizen pals, an insufferably smug expression on her face.
“First time for everything,” he muttered.
Showing mercy for once, she let the comment slide without remark. She had a plastic cup with a disturbingly red liquid in it, and she gestured with the cup toward the brightly lit space within. “Your friends are already inside, I believe.”
“Thanks.” He started to walk away.
“Though, I think I might have seen Emma over by the snack table,” she said, casually throwing a bomb he should have seen coming a mile away.
He froze mid-step for a second, like a cartoon character. Through the open door, he spotted Lucas, standing in a loose cluster with Daniel and a few of the other guys they hung out with sometimes. Lucas noticed him at about the same time, and he raised his brows, motioning for Hunter to join them.
But he hadn’t come here for those assholes.
He held up a finger, indicating that he’d be over soon. And then he pivoted on his heel, ignoring Granny’s catlike grin.
Sure enough, Emma was over by the refreshments table, which was decorated for the season with an orange tablecloth and a scattering of fake fall leaves, in addition to being laden down with treats from the local bakery.
Because this whole thing was basically a middle school dance, except for grownups, Emma was hanging out with a bunch of girls, including Hattie Thompson and Abby Zhang, which made him slow down just a smidge.
Emma’s choice of companions wasn’t a problem, exactly, and he really should have seen it coming, considering it was the crafting group that convinced her to come to this thing in the first place.
But Abby was Lucas’s ex. The girl was nice enough, but she and Lucas still didn’t really talk to each other.
She must not bear Hunter much ill will, despite him being Lucas’s oldest, best friend. She caught sight of Hunter approaching and a sly smile overtook her face.
Hattie caught on, too, and she wasn’t nearly as subtle, of course. She elbowed Emma in the ribs and pointed right at him.
He wanted to be annoyed. But then Emma looked up, and their gazes met, and everything and everybody else just sort of… melted away.
She’d been gorgeous the other day, up on that mountain, but she was a different kind of gorgeous tonight, her dark hair falling in glossy waves, and her rosy lips and cheeks shimmering. The soft-looking shirt she wore clung to her curves, and those jeans…
Well, they weren’t built for climbing a mountain—that much was sure. His fingertips flexed, suddenly aching to mold themselves to her hips and pull her close.
His own jeans were feeling a little snug. He cleared his throat and jerked his gaze back up to her face, where she was smiling softly at him, her eyes sultry in a way that made him worry she could read his mind.
“Hey,” she said, moving away from her friends to meet him halfway. “You’re here.”
“Yeah. So are you.” Duh. “I mean—”
“I’m glad you came.”
Yeah, suddenly he was, too. Something warm was growing in his chest. Something he didn’t trust, but he liked it. Way, way more than he should.
Before he could figure out how to say that, somebody bumped into him on their way to the snack table.
He suddenly remembered where he was—in the community center, with probably half the adult population of Heart’s Hope Crossing milling around.
He never came to this sort of thing, so already he stood out like a sore thumb.
Making a beeline for the new girl was only going to paint a target on his back for the gossips, who had already heard from Granny that there was a potential Crossing Connection situation going on.
He really didn’t need to go getting mushy on top of all of that. Not here.
Cupping the back of his neck, he glanced toward the event room, where folks were starting to head inside, so things would probably be starting soon. “My buddy Lucas wanted to come.”
Completely accurate, but highly misleading. What was he doing?
Fortunately, she didn’t seem to take any offense at his misdirection. “Well, since we’ve both been dragged here, I guess it’s good we have each other?”
“Yeah,” he said before he could stop himself. His voice came out all husky, his body swaying toward hers, and seriously, what was he doing? Flirting like this when he’d been so clear about not wanting anything to happen between them?
A piercing, cattle-call whistle tore through the air. Knowing the sound all too well, Hunter turned. Mayor Thompson stood just outside the entrance. “We’re about to get started, so if you’d kindly all make your way inside…”
Hattie heaved out a tortured sigh and downed her drink. She made a big show of cricking her neck to one side and then the other. Standing up straighter, a robotic smile overtaking her expression, she urged everybody to head on in. “Come on, y’all.”
He almost felt bad for Hattie, having to act like a sheepdog when her dad was trying to herd the town’s citizens. But then a mischievous twinkle lit her eyes.
Her voice entirely too sweet, she asked, “Emma and Hunter, you two coming?”
“Yeah,” Emma said, shooting him a glance before rolling her eyes. She’d already expressed her confusion about everybody being so invested in matching the two of them up. He liked feeling like he was in on the joke with her as he shook his head at Hattie’s enthusiasm, too.
And somehow, that broke the ice that had been holding him back.
Screw it. This was inviting the jackals to descend, but he extended his arm. Emma considered for a moment, biting her lip before slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. Her warmth seeped into him, and he swallowed hard.
If he wanted to keep his distance, it was probably a bad idea to invite her to come so close, but really. How tempting could a night of line dancing be?
“Okay, everybody, let’s put it all together!”
The class was being taught by two local high school teachers, a couple named Patrick and Denise.
For the past half hour or so, they’d been putting the group through their paces, explaining some basic steps and taking them line by line through a wild choreography to a pop-country hit that Emma would never look at quite the same way again.
Then again, she’d never look at Hunter quite the same way again, either.
She’d known the man was athletic, of course—he’d taken her up a small mountain without really breaking a sweat. But he was so big and his mannerisms were so gruff that she never would have expected him to be… graceful.
There was no other way to describe it, though. He’d started the class grumbling under his breath, and honestly, he was still kind of complaining about it. But he was good.
She glanced up at him, and their gazes met.
A shiver of attraction moved through her.
The choreography Patrick and Denise had come up with strictly observed the boundaries of personal space, so no one ever came within two feet of anyone else.
Technically, Emma wasn’t any closer to Hunter than she was to Hattie on her other side, or Granny in the line in front of her.
But it didn’t matter. The space between them was electric, making the entire right side of her body glow with awareness.
“Think you got this?” she asked, gently teasing.
“The steps? Or my dignity?”
“Oh, please.” She turned her head to face front again as the music started. “You gave that up the minute you walked through the door.”
“And a one, two, three, four,” Denise called.
“Here we go,” Hunter groused.
And with that, they were off again. Emma missed the first beat, getting her off her timing, but she screwed up her face, determined not to let that little stumble mess her up for the entire routine.
She couldn’t help sneaking glances at Hunter, though, and it did nothing for her focus.
They were doing objectively silly steps—tapping their heels to the side and spinning in place.
He really shouldn’t look so sexy, but as they went along, the permanent scowl on his face slipped, replaced by an expression of sheer concentration—and maybe even just a hint of a smile.
She really hoped he was having fun.
Overall, she herself was having a surprisingly good time, and not just because of the company. Dancing had never really been her thing, but flailing around with half of the town had her laughing out loud. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t particularly coordinated. Most people were terrible at this.
Over on her other side, Abby was doing fairly well, even if she was keeping her arms by her side for the most part, as if she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
Meanwhile, Hattie was hamming it up, covering for her missteps with exaggerated movements, and the contrast just made Emma have even more affection for her new friends.
In the end, all their hard work had amounted to about half a song’s worth of dancing. When they hit the end of what they’d learned, Patrick hit pause on the music and led them all in giving themselves a round of applause.
“We’ll come back and tackle the rest in a few, but I think y’all have earned yourself a ten-minute break.”
“What?” One of Hunter’s friends—Lucas, Emma was pretty sure—threw his hands up in the air. “We were just getting warmed up.”
“Speak for yourself,” Granny rebuked him. The fact that she was line dancing at all with her cane was impressive, honestly.
“Can I get anybody anything?” Hunter offered, hitching his thumb toward the lobby, where plenty of folks were making a beeline for the snacks and drinks. He looked directly at Emma.
“Vodka tonic,” Granny requested.
Hunter scrunched up his brow. “Uh…”
Granny fluttered a hand. “Or a glass of punch.” She pitched her voice louder. “Since Reginald is too cheap to spring for an open bar.”
At the sound of his name, Mayor Thompson looked over and waved, clearly unperturbed by Granny’s complaining.
“Got it.” Hunter looked to Emma again. “And you?”
He might have made the offer to everyone—and Granny might have wasted no time taking him up on it—but the way he was directing his attention squarely at Emma had her going all warm and gushy inside.
“Whatever you’re having,” she said. “Or, you know, whatever’s easiest.”
“Be right back.”
“Aren’t you going to offer to grab us drinks, too?” Lucas called after him.
Hunter flashed him a subtle middle finger behind his back. “Get your own.”
Lucas put his hand to his chest as if he’d been gravely offended, then followed Hunter out to the hallway.
The instant they were gone, Hattie sidled up to Emma, waggling her brows. “So you two seem chummy.”
Emma’s stomach sank. She turned to face Hattie. “Please don’t make a big deal about it.”
“Who’s making a big deal?” Hattie’s mock innocence wasn’t fooling anyone. “I’m just saying…”
“Leave her alone,” Abby chided, filling Emma with gratitude. Then she added, conspiratorially, “Though for a guy who doesn’t want to be more than friends, he sure is looking at your butt a lot.”
Her cheeks flushed hot. “Neither of you are helping,” she hissed.
“Okay, okay.” Hattie held up her hands and backed away.
As she did, Mayor Thompson wandered by. “We all having a good time tonight, ladies?”
“Yes, sir.” Abby smiled at him.
Emma nodded when he looked at her. “Absolutely.”
“All’s well, Dad,” Hattie promised.
“Good.” He fixed Hattie with an appraising eye. “Mind your posture, honey.”
She instantly stood up straighter, a pinched expression overtaking her face. She maintained the pose until he kept walking to greet another group.
As soon as his back was turned, she sagged, mouthing, Mind your posture, honey, in a way that evoked nothing more than a sulky kindergartener.
“You know he doesn’t mean it,” Abby counseled quietly.
Hattie rolled her eyes as if she didn’t care, but the flippancy was paper thin. “Sure.”
Emma frowned, but before she could figure out how to ask any sort of follow-up, Hunter returned. He had three cups of punch carefully balanced in his big hands. He passed one to Granny before coming over to Emma and presenting one to her.
“Thanks.” She reserved judgment, even though the punch looked like a factory of Red Dye No. 5 had had an industrial accident into her cup. Sure enough, it was sickly sweet, but she smiled in gratitude.
Hunter reached for the cup. “I’ll get you something else.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“But you don’t like it.”
And, well, what could she say to that? “We’ll be starting again in a minute. It’s not worth going all the way back out there.”
“Yeah,” he said, intense in a way that reached right into the center of her. “It is.”
Stunned, she failed to hold on tight enough when he snagged the cup back out of her hand.
“Water or coffee?” he asked, point-blank.
She blinked a couple of times, then answered automatically, “Decaf, if they have it.”
“Otherwise, water?”
“Yes, please.” She shook her head. “But seriously—”
Before she could demur again, he turned and headed back into the crowd.
She watched his receding form, his big shoulders and his dark head of hair that stood well above most everybody else’s.
This gruff guy who didn’t believe in relationships, and who was here, line dancing, and insisting on taking his entire break to get her a drink that she liked.
Her ex-fiancé… He would have never. Then again, he also probably never would have noticed her displeasure in the first place.
From behind her, Hattie said, “Just so we’re clear, I am definitely not making a big deal about what just happened here.”
“Yeah,” Emma echoed faintly. “Me, neither.”