His tall frame towers over me, and I jump when his strong hand grabs my chin to tilt it up.
Our gaze meets, latching on to each other’s in a strong hold, and he lowers his voice. “But I will for you.”
His fingertips smooth over my chin as he waits for my answer, and my brain goes fuzzy. Every person and every noise disappears around us.
“Never mind,” I stutter out, not sure if my words are even audible. “It’s okay. I’m a terrible dancer anyway.”
His hand disappears, and he bends down, so his lips are at my ear. “Get up, Willow.”
I shudder at the feel of his breath against my skin, goose bumps popping up my neck.
“You’ve been answering my Tinder questions and listening to me be a miserable bastard all night. I owe you a dance.”
“Are … are you sure?”
“Positive. Hell, I need it as much as you.”
I take his hand and slide off my barstool. “Lead the way.”
His grip is tight. Secure. I keep my eyes downcast, so I don’t see the expressions on people’s faces when they see him dancing with someone who’s not her.
Judgmental eyes won’t ruin my night.
My heart races when his hand leaves mine, and he swoops his arm around my back, looping it around my waist. His hand settles on the arch right above my ass, and he starts moving us to the beat of the music.
“What song is this?” I ask.
“‘Hurt’ by Johnny Cash.”
He shuts his eyes, holding me closer, and I take in the lyrics. Dallas didn’t choose this song, but God, does it fit his life right now.
The jukebox is giving me a warning. Run! Run! You naive girl. This man will only end up hurting you.
A sharp pain fills his eyes as he stares down at me. “You have no idea what you brought out of me tonight.” He blows out a ragged breath. “What you gave me tonight, Willow. I’ve never opened up like this to anyone.”
Even Lucy? is the question I want to ask, but I bite my tongue. Me either are the words I want to say next, but again, I don’t, for fear he’ll run away.
Almost a decade with Brett, and never did emotions drum through me like this.
Is this what it feels like—falling for someone? Is this why people who’ve experienced love crave it so much?
Love.
I gulp down a thousand feelings. I’m overthinking this.
I can’t fall for a man after one night of conversation and a dance.
“I’ve never danced with anyone like this,” I admit.
Instead of pulling away, he draws in nearer, pressing his mouth to my ear. I shiver as his crisp breath hits my sweaty skin. “Like what?”
“Without grinding my ass against someone while Lil Jon plays in the background.”
Proms. Frat parties. Clubs. Those are the only places I’ve danced with men. Never so slow, so personal, so gentle. Never like this.
He chuckles—not only surprising me, but also making me smile. “I’m taking your virginity of how a real man dances with a woman.”
My response is resting my chin on his shoulder and losing myself to the music as he takes me into another world. We stay silent in our moment, but it’s a comfortable silence, something that feels necessary right now. I expect him to pull away when the song ends, but he doesn’t. We dance into the next one with my arms nestled on his rugged shoulders as we feed something we shouldn’t.
“Last call!” a voice yells in the distance, snapping me out of my powerful trance. I’m unsure of how many songs we’ve danced through. “Five minutes until closing time!”
I attempt to pull away, but Dallas tightens his hold, silently asking me not to let go yet.
“Give me that five minutes,” he pleads.
“Of course,” I whisper, slipping my hands down his back. “I’ll give you however long you need.”
He nods his thank-you. Time slows. These five minutes feel like a lifetime. Our embrace grows tighter, our sway to the music slower and the connection sharper.
“Dallas, man, I hate to do this, but I have to shut this shit down,” the guy who screamed out the last call warns.
I lose our connection when he retreats a step, my arms splaying down his sides and then falling to mine, and he gives me an apologetic look.
“Sorry,” he whispers to me before turning his attention to the bartender. “You’re good, man. Enjoy your night.”
The bartender, the same man who was making our drinks, gives him a thumbs-up and a smile. “It was good seein’ ya!”
His gaze lowers to mine. “You ready to go back to Stella’s?”
No! No!
I’m debating on asking the bartender how much he wants for this bar, so we can stay longer.
I force a smile. “I have to be, considering we’re getting kicked out.”
He grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers, and holds them against his shoulder. “It’s beautiful out tonight. How ’bout we take the scenic route? Might be a good idea to show you the beauty of Blue Beech since Hudson says you hate it and refuse to move here with Stella.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Hey now, did he tell you to give me a good time in an attempt to change my mind?”
“You know me better than to think I’d take commands from my baby brother. But”—I knew that but was coming—“that doesn’t mean I won’t try to convince you Blue Beech is a good place, and you should really consider moving here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Especially if I can get another night like this.
He bows his head. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t make any promises.”
“Not thank you for allowing me to show you around. Thank you for making me forget I’m a miserable man missing half of who he is. Thank you for not treating me like a broken fucking object that needs fixing.”
I hide my face on his shoulder to conceal my smile. “You’ve done the same for me.” With my mouth pressed against his denim shirt, my face hidden, I take a risk that could go horribly wrong. “You know somewhere I haven’t seen in Blue Beech?”
“What’s that?”
“The home of Dallas Barnes.”
Don’t judge me.
I know what I’m doing is wrong, but bad ideas sometimes lead to good things, right?
Chapter Thirteen
Willow
One of the biggest things I’ve learned about Blue Beech so far is real-life county fairs are nothing like the movies.
Dallas texted me this morning to remind me of the time he was picking me up and told me to have an appetite. The impulse to decline spilled through me, but the thought of experiencing something new prevented it.
I mean, who doesn’t want to find out what the fair hype is all about?
Dallas parks his truck in a grassy field converted into a parking lot. The amount of cars surprises me. This many people live here?
He helps Maven out of the truck before circling to my side. “Thank you for coming,” he says when he opens my door. He grabs my hand and assists me out of the lifted truck. “It’s all Maven’s been talking about today.”
I nervously laugh. “Guess it was time to pop my fair cherry.” I grimace at my word choice. No, Willow. No flirting with the widowed asshole.