Page 32 of The Lucky One

SOS.

Send help immediately.

We crash to the floor and unfortunately Weston takes the hardest hit because he’s sandwiched between me and the wood planks.

He groans and I try to scramble off of him because this is humiliating and I’m terrified he’s hurt.

“That could’ve gone better,” he says. “It was a great idea in my head.”

“Are you okay?”

“Depends. What’s my final score?”

I roll my eyes because I’m half convinced Weston could be dying and he’d still make jokes or flirt. He doesn’t take anything seriously.

“Ten for effort, maybe a five for execution. Based on that final part.”

“It’s unfair to deduct points for a partner with two left feet.”

A very unladylike snort escapes me and I cover my mouth. “You should really watch more Dancing With the Stars. It’s not an individual score, it’s based on the couple.”

“Fine. I’ll accept it. I’m just gonna lay here for another second though.”

People keep dancing around us like we don’t even exist, and I guess that’s fine. I’m crouched beside him in my heels and dress, mentally itching to go through an injury checklist. Ask if anything hurts like his back, his head, or most importantly his knee.

I’m trying really hard to just live in the moment, but I’ve seen him after we’ve been out all day. Grimacing when he moves just right or the stiffness first thing in the morning.

I adjust my legs so I’m sitting on my knees. It’s uncomfortable, but it allows me to lean closer so he can hear me over the noise.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask.

He grins up at me. “Just got the wind knocked out of me, really.”

Weston isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met. The attraction factor goes without saying. I know my sisters are head over heels fortheir significant others but honestly, Weston is in a whole other league.

Until the last couple of days, I didn’t even know I found men with auburn hair and brown eyes attractive but apparently I do. A lot.

“Do you want to go sit at a table?”

He frowns like he can’t hear me, so I lean closer. But that was the point I think, because there’s a mischievous wink that flashes in his eyes. His lips curve into his signature lazy grin and my heart stutters.

His lips are really close. All I’d have to do is stretch down a little further.

Like he’s having the same thought, he reaches up and slides a hand along my jaw. Strong, sturdy, and warm.

Holy cow.

I wore my hair down tonight, which isn’t something I usually do. His fingers tiptoe further, up into my hair. A shiver races down my spine at his caress.

Did I tell him no public affection? Because I take it back.

I take itallback.

“You two lovebirds are going to get trampled!” Ethel Jones, owner of the greenhouse off the square shouts as they go away from their partners, and I blink.

That really almost just happened. I’m conflicted about whether I’m disappointed or relieved.

Weston pushes himself to his feet with whatever help I can provide and pauses right as he straightens. If I’m not mistaken, there’s definite disappointment in his eyes.

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