Page 120 of Just Like Home

“My crowd survival skills are excellent,” he said.

Slowly, she slipped her hand in his. It was an altogether different experience than when her most recent dance partner, Jameson, took her hands. First of all, Jameson got regular manicures, so his skin was smoother than hers. Second of all, holding on to Jameson had never once elicited the kind of spark that her skin on Cole’s had.

“Why did you ask if anyone had ever kissed me?” The words were out before she could consider the ramifications of asking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ask that.”

He glanced over at her as he led her through the crowd. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said.

They cut through the throng of people and he stopped. “I was curious, I guess.”

“Are you still?”

“Curious?” He eyed her. “Yeah.”

She swallowed, then licked her lips, a horrifying reflex and the result of thinking about the fact that she most certainly had never been kissed.

Did that make her pathetic?

She looked up and realized they were in a line. “Have we reached our destination?”

He followed her eyes to a small white trailer that advertised an assortment ofdelicious snacks,all of which were certainly not on her diet.

“We have,” he said.

They seemed to realize he was still holding her hand at the same moment, and he quickly dropped it as if he’d done something wrong.

“You know I can’t eat here,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah.” He brushed her off.

“I’m serious,” she said with a smile. “It would only take a few bad meals to undo years of discipline.”

He dropped her hand and leveled her gaze. “Who told you that?”

She looked away. Marcia. Always Marcia.

“Someone filled your head with a lot of nonsense,” he said. “You’re at the fair for the first time ever. You’re going to eat fair food.”

The sound of a live band rang out in the warm night as fireflies danced on the breeze. She followed the sound to a large white tent, dimly lit inside with tables around the perimeter and a dance floor in the center.

“Have you ever done that?” She motioned to the tent with a nod.

“Sure,” he said. “They have good bands in there.”

“But the dancing,” she said. “Have you ever done that?”

They moved forward in line. “Uh, no. I haven’t.”

She eyed him for a long, amusing moment.

“What?”

“I’ll try this food that’s probably going to make me throw up or gain fifteen pounds if you will give me one dance.”

He stepped out of the line, hands up. “I’m out.”

“Wow, I didn’t peg you for a quitter.” She grinned. She wasn’t positive, but she thought maybe she was flirting. She’d never really tried it before—who was she going to flirt with when she was surrounded by gay or married men? Maybe she’d just discovered a new talent. Maybe she was an expert flirter.

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