Page 54 of Fall onto me

“What’s wrong?” Wes asks.

“Foster’s …” I sigh, not wanting to say it in front of our friends. There are just some things they need to stay out of. Wes, if we were alone, could know, and truth be told I should have called him already. “Out of town, big race.”

“He left you without a dance partner?” he asks suspiciously.

“I told him to.” I smile, but he doesn’t believe it for a second.

Wes nods, mulling this over. “I’ll dance with you,” he offers.

“I couldn’t ask that.”

He grins. “Is it hard?”

I shake my head. “Not if you know how to Salsa dance?”

“You’re in luck, because I know that or the sprinkler.” He mimics the movement, causing all of us to groan in embarrassment.

I laugh. “Are you sure?”

He dips into a bow. “I would be honored.”

“Well, it’s at six, at the Hollingsworth Golf Club. Do you know where that is?”

He lets out a low whistle. “Fancy. Yes, what do I wear?”

Kate takes one look at his white t-shirt, streaked in grease and blue jeans stained with oil. “Do you have a tux?” she asks.

He smiles. “No, but I can rent one no problem. I’ll pick you up at six. Where will you be?”

“Grace Studios. We’re warming up there before leaving.”

His brows raise. “Grace Studios? Like Grace Parks?”

“You know her?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He nods, letting out a long, nervous laugh. Me and Kate send each other a glance. “We grew up together.” He elaborates with a shaky breath.

“Oh, small world.” I smile. “I figured you would have seen her around here.”

“Yeah, I heard she was in accounting, but I’m in a separate wing and I never wanted to bother her.”

“Why would you bother her?” Kate questions. Now we’re being nosey, but I don’t care.

He shakes his head. “Okay girls, I’m leaving.” He turns to the other guys. “Class is dismissed!” he shouts out before walking away with a laugh.

It only takes one wink from Kate to know what we’re doing later. It’s nice to make a plan for something other than the Keeper. Maybe we can rekindle whatever it is that Grace and Wes had growing up.

* * *

Sure enough, come six o’clock, Wes pulls up in a shiny black car. It’s a classic, matte, Mustang.

He steps out with a bouquet of a dozen beautiful roses.

He glances at me. “You look beautiful.” He bows.

I smile, bowing back. “And so do you.”

He’s wearing a crisp black tux, with a white shirt underneath. “I didn’t know what pocket square to get.” He tugs a few from his pocket. One red, white, and black. “I’m glad you’re wearing red. These are for you.” He hands me the roses as he stuffs the napkin into the pocket. It’s a mess and crinkled.

---