Page 50 of I Love a Good Challenge

“Oh, and those flowers, Lils,” Sparrow begins. I clench the stems of the bouquet a little tighter. “You love wildflowers.”

Graham’s arm stiffens briefly as I blush. Instead of pulling away as I expect him to, his free hand comes to rest on my own. It feels like home.

“Will you two be dancing?” Rafe asks.

My reply gets stuck in my throat. For all appearances, it looks as though Graham and I are planning to give each other the first dance of the night.

Searching for a distraction, my gaze wanders. I feel an unspoken pressure and tension hovering in the air as I decide what to do. At this point, dancing with Graham feels as if it will stitch something between us that will never be undone.

“Lily, I feel like this should qualify as one of your challenges,” Rafe continues after a pause. I’d yell about the fact that he knows about my little bet with Graham, but of course he would. “I mean, unless you’re scared,” Rafe teases.

Lifting my chin in the air as high as it will go, I level Rafe with a glare. Graham chuckles but has the decency to hide it behind a very fake cough. Sparrow does the best-friend thing so well. Immediately, she changes course by stating how much she loves the costumes, and isn’t the music great, and something about Rafe asking Liam to play the cello at their wedding.

Saved by her distraction, I glance around the room and lock eyes with Edgar. Though I’m still taking my weekly boxing lesson, I’ve been avoiding the hours I know for sure he’s in the gym. Things ended between us long ago, and we’re still friends, but things have felt different lately. I must admit, though, that Edgar looks great in his suit and tailored coat. There is a cravat around his neck, but something about it doesn’t hold the same thrill as it does when I see it tucked against Graham’s costume.

Edgar looks between Graham and me. He takes a step toward us when I swear he’s pushed three feet off course as Gladys crashes into him. It’s an intentional collision. I nearly gasp as I see her loop him smoothly onto the dance floor. His eyes catch mine again as she pulls him away. With a slight limp, he twirls her around. She’s shameless, and I love her for it.

The crowd gathers and begins to clap. I tune everything out when I hear the opening notes of one of my favorite pieces of music begin to play. I know this dance. I’ve memorized it. And while I know the committee sent dance instructions and Georgian-era music examples in the town’s spring newsletter in preparation for tonight’s ball, I can say with certainty that I’ll be the only person nerdy enough to have practiced this dance on my own since 2005.

I so badly want to dance it and can think of only one partner who could possibly keep up. The very man who—if I’m calculating correctly since he revealed it when we met—has read the book sixteen (now, eighteen) times and has watched the movie just as much. But asking him feels like an impossible task.

As if he senses my distress, Graham stands a bit taller and relaxes his shoulders. Sparrow and Rafe are already on the dance floor, moving in what is more like a slow dance than a true, lively Regency dance (which is not surprising with those two).

“George, I’d like to challenge you to perform a proper English country dance. If you dare . . .” Tilting my head, I flash my gaze upward, hoping he can’t read how badly I’m longing to jump into the crowd of moving couples on the floor.

“And how do you expect me to stick to your ‘no touching’ rule while we dance, Lily?” he questions me gravely, his downward glance reminding me of the absence of my gloves, which are well on their way to being gone and buried forever by now.

I flush. “I’ll allow it for dancing purposes only. After all, the townspeople of Birch Borough have come here to experience a night of culture, beauty, and charm. They clearly need us.” I wave my hand and nod as if I’m a royal gracing the ball with my presence and not as if this moment means everything to me.

I realize how much I want to see Graham dance, but though I know he’s seen the movies and read the books, I can’t imagine he will know the period dances as I do. I feel a buzz of excitement while he visibly considers my proposal. This moment might be the chance I’ve been looking for to leave him in the dust of our mutual battle for Birch Borough. So far, Graham has met and exceeded my expectations as I’ve challenged him to tasks that I thought his reserved and dignified nature would hesitate to do. If I have any hope of winning and convincing him to move, it’s clear I need to up the ante, even though crushing him in the competition sounds less and less satisfying.

He turns to me. “Challenge accepted. And Lily”—he hesitates for a fraction of a second—“it would truly be a pleasure.”

The rasp of his voice as he says my name shoots a thrill down my spine. I suck in a breath. As much as I may regret it later, I don’t want to miss this moment. The books and films I love finally feel within reach. With Graham beside me, tonight will live in my memory as more of a fairy tale of old than a reminder that, though he is standing within my reach, our future isn’t what it could have been. And I already miss him.

Chapter Eighteen

Graham

As she tilts her chin upward, I try not to react when Lily makes eye contact with me. She nods slowly. I hold myself as still as possible to let my words take effect. I need a minute to process too. I’m still getting used to Lily not treating me with hostility. More and more, she is allowing me to see the thoughtfulness behind her eyes, looking at me without hesitation, of her own accord, even when we aren’t bickering. It feels like a gift.

And now, I may have the chance to dance with her. As much as I love to dance, this is one thing we never did in LA. My heart drops when she turns away abruptly. But she is only handing the wildflower bouquet I brought her to Anna, who is overseeing the dessert table.

When Lily turns back to me, I see the playful hint of a smile across her face. She’s radiant, and it takes my breath away. I see now that I’ve never truly appreciated Regency-era fashion to the level I should have. The lilac-colored dress skims the length of her willowy frame, whispering of the curves beneath. Her hair is swept up, a few curls escaping to graze her neck. I could swear she had a pair of gloves earlier, but only the soft, bare skin of her arms awaits my fingertips now.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Little does she know I’m thanking my lucky stars for all the dance training I received as a kid. When I received the links for the dance instructions in the Birch Borough newsletter, I recognized them immediately. At my request, Liam sent me some music I could use to practice. Once I was certain I had the correct cadence, I got to work. Are my legs still sore from trying to figure out the steps until the early hours of this morning? Yes. Is it worth it as I observe Lily’s tentative enthusiasm? Absolutely.

Tucking her hand through my arm again, I lead her to the dance floor. I swear the world grows quiet despite the buzz and hum of the crowded room. As I take my place opposite Lily, intensity echoes in my bones. It was all coming to this: the moment we met in the movie theater, the loving, the fighting, the heartbreak. We were always going to end up here . . . somehow.

I don’t believe we’ve ever lived other lives, but if I did, as she grips my hands, and we take our first tentative steps—and I attempt to execute the steps perfectly and command my lungs to breathe—I could imagine we’ve done all this before, many times in many lifetimes.

The movement overtakes me, steps that are both familiar and brand-new imprinting themselves on my memory. As the magic weaves between us, I almost miss the way that everyone else seems to clear the dance floor. The music seems to match the rhythm of my heart, and I know I will never forget the warmth of Lily’s hands. Even when the tips of our fingers barely touch, I still feel her everywhere. Her eyes seem to deepen and take on a new glow as we sway and spin across the floor in a timeless expression of human connection. I could become addicted to this feeling. I sense that Lily feels it too. Say what she will about planning to run me out of town, this is the definition of romance.

Without uttering a word, we’ve yet said so much that when the music finishes, we stay locked in an eternal gaze. People clap around us, slapping me on the back, but I’m mesmerized. Lily has always been achingly attractive, but at this moment, I see a new depth to her beauty. She was made for the soft, feminine costume of a nineteenth-century maiden, her signature ponytail replaced with an updo. For once, she isn’t wearing black, and I feel as if I’m seeing a full-color motion picture—rather than a black-and-white film—for the first time. She chose to dance with me, even though we’ve hurt each other deeply. She may have used her words to hurt me, but I hurt her with my silence, however justified it was.

After the briefest pause, another song starts to play. It’s a lively one. Seeing Edgar stuck on a bench, Gladys’ arms wrapped like a vise around his, I realize she has essentially freed up Lily’s dance card for the evening. And I’m ready to fill it. I extend my hand to her, letting a mischievous expression peek through my face, and without a word, Lily reaches forward and places her palm in mine. Her silence surprises me. Momentarily, I wonder if her willingness to dance with me is just another way she is plotting to throw me off my game, but before I can analyze it too much, the music sweeps us away.

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