Page 65 of Bull Rush

“Dance with me?” I ask, my heart hammering to a staccato rhythm that’s already out of sync with the music. Her lips curl with a smile, though, and she nods as we head to the floor. It’s not too crowded yet; there’s enough room that we can move around together. There are only a few locals who know us well enough to be watching with bated breath to see if I make a mess of this. It’s still enough to have my anxiety rising as I pull her close. Who knew dancing in a small-town bar could rival the nerves I feel before a playoff game?

I put one hand low on her waist, just above her hip, and she places hers on my shoulder. We slowly start two-stepping our way into the crowd, moving around the floor counterclockwise as the music floods over us. I keep repeating the advice Dakota gave me in my head: watch my toes so I don’t step on her. Slow, slow. Fast, fast. Slow, slow. Fast, fast. Lead but don’t drag. I’m focusing so hard on it that it takes me through half the song before I actually look up from my feet.

Haze has a smile on her lips, her eyes wide and glassy, and my heart constricts in my chest. She bites her lower lip, and her hand drifts down my chest as we make another turn. I can seeher mind whirring with something as she watches the couple next to us spinning around, and then she looks back up at me again. Her eyes flood with something I can’t quite read—something between nostalgia and love, if I had to guess, or at least, if I could hope.

“You remembered,” she says, and it’s quiet, so quiet I read the words on her lips more than I hear them over the music and the roar of the bar. I smile slowly, half afraid to do anything to mess this moment up.

“Sugar, when it comes to you, I remember every single thing. Like you were branded on my soul.” I press my lips to her ear and say the words loud enough for her to hear before I kiss her cheekbone softly and pull her closer. I feel the answering press of her fingers into my chest, and I tighten my grip on her as we make another round on the floor. She rests her head against my chest, and I’m not ready for the song to end as the last chords start to drift over us. I wish I could keep her like this forever, content and safe in my arms.

But the spell breaks a moment later when “Copperhead Road” starts, and several of the couples around us break up and yell as they get ready for the line-dance portion of tonight’s events.

“Shit. We better get out of here before we get run over.” Haze looks around smiling and starts to tug on my hand as she pulls away.

“Or…” I tug her back to my side. “We can try to keep up.”

“You didn’t…” she calls out as she side-eyes me, amusement playing in her eyes as the opening chords fade and the first lines of the song play. The people around us start to move in unison, and I do my best to remember the steps Dakota taught me. Haze follows in kind, having done this a million times at weddings and parties over the years. She giggles as she sees me keeping up with the first few steps.

“Just remember when I fall on my face and make an ass of myself, it was for a good cause!” I answer as the stomping starts to drown out my words.

I falter after a few more steps, but I feel her hand on my forearm. She guides me through them again, and we migrate to the back of the line where I won’t cause anyone else to trip. She manages to get me back in sync with the beat. A minute later, she’s in tears she’s laughing so hard at how well I’m able to keep up with her.

“Oh my god! Is this Dakota’s work?” she asks, beaming so brightly I wish I could bottle it for the rough days. The ones I might have to live without her.

“She mighta helped,” I answer, raising my voice again as the crowd starts to holler out.

“Who’s idea was it?” Her brow furrows. Her confusion is understandable. Dakota isn’t a matchmaker, and I’m not one to make an ass out of myself in the name of love.

“Mine. She agreed reluctantly.”

“You still manage to surprise me, cowboy.” Haze’s lopsided grin feels like a reward all on its own.

“I try!” I grin back, and the din of the song and stomping reaches a fever pitch; we’re both drawn back into it. We manage to finish the song, and then stumble off the dance floor and through the crowd as another starts up. Her fingers thread through mine, and she squeezes my hand as we make our way out of the crush of people wanting to join in the next dance.

“You want another drink? We can go sit and watch for a few before we get back out?” I offer.

She stops, pausing to look up at me, a question in her eyes like she’s not quite sure if she should say what’s on her mind. “Do you want to dance more?”

“Is this a trick question?” Because I can tell she’s teasing me. “I want whatever you want.”

“Will you come here with me again sometime? To dance?”

“Sure. Whenever you want,” I answer, confused a little by the question.

“Then make good on your promise.” Her soft smile turns wicked, and she pulls me toward the back door of the bar, waving at Dakota on the way out. I tip my chin to Dakota, and she nods back, laughing and shaking her head before she moves to the next person at the bar.

THIRTY

Hazel

“Just give me one moment!”I say as I slip into the master bathroom after we get home. I make a quick tour of all the essentials, slipping out of my dress and freshening up, but then I stand in front of my closet. I dab the perfume on my pulse for a moment while I pause to make sure I’m making the right decision by letting him in on this secret. I’m nervous, and that this man can make me nervous after everything probably says something on its own. I reach into the drawer, though, and pull it out, slipping it on and then taking a deep breath before I walk back out into the master, flicking the light off in my wake.

He’s leaned back on the bed, boots and hat gone and his shirt half unbuttoned from where I mauled him on the way in. I’m busy staring at his tattoos, and I only look up to meet his eyes when there’s a sharp intake of breath on his part.

“What’s that?”

“A jersey with my name on it,” I muse as I climb into hislap, straddling him on the bed. He reaches out absently to support me, his hand brushing over my ass and then digging in as I wiggle down into a seated position.

“Why do you still have it?” He looks down at his college jersey as it pools on the tops of my thighs.

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