“What? No! Accident?”
“That’s why he didn’t come. He drove into San Antonio to go help his sister. And she’s okay. Not injured, but her car is a mess.”
“I didn’t want that. I was hoping jealousy would wake up your cowboy.” She rolls her eyes. “He needed to see you in that dress. What did he say?”
“He said I was stunning.” Having both guys use the same word feels like an odd but validating coincidence.
“You are! I’m going to go dance with my husband now. And I better see y’all on that dance floor.” She points at me. “I mean it.”
I nod, but I’m not asking Archer to dance. If he offers, I will launch into his arms, but I won’t bring it up.
He’s waiting for me at the table, watching as the dance floor fills with people. “What was that about?”
“I was telling Layla about what happened to Anderson’s sister.” I ease into the chair beside him, careful of my slit.
“What do you say? Should we get out there? It’s been a while, but I bet we’ll remember what to do.”
I remember the nights Archer and I practiced dance steps in my kitchen. It took us awhile before it looked like we were dancing and not wrestling. Mostly because I’m not great at letting anyone else lead.
He presses a hand to the small of my back, his thumb touching my skin. A bow across the back covers the middle, but now I’m conscious of the parts the bow doesn’t cover.
When we get onto the dance floor, I slide my hand into his and rest the other on his shoulder. “Earlier when I opened my front door and saw you standing there, I was silent for a second.”
“I surprised you, huh?”
“That wasn’t it, Archer. Seeing you all dressed up is a treat. I was savoring the moment.”
There’s heat in his gaze as he stares down at me. He opens his mouth but then closes it again.
I’m the reason he’s drawn the line at friends. And thanks to that fever, I know why. It’s hard to imagine loving anyone else.
We circle the dance floor, song after song, and memories flood back as I follow his lead.
The deejay plays a slow song, and Archer tugs me closer.
After knowing him so long, it’s easy to see that he’s at war with himself.
I won’t give up the possibility of happiness to shield him from what his grandmother said to me. If he ends up agreeing with her or hating me for telling him, I won’t end up any worse off than I am now. If not knowing the reason is the only thing holding him back, I’ll change that. I’ve hid the reason for too long.
Inching even closer, I ask, “Later, when this is over, can we talk about what happened with us? It’s time you know the truth.”
His arm tightens around me. “Absolutely.”
“Here isn’t a great place to talk.” I squeeze his hand. “I’d rather have the conversation when we’re alone.”
He smiles down at me, then presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “I can wait until we get home.”
Is it too much to hope that one conversation will bring us back together?
* * *
Archer loosenshis tie as we walk off the dance floor. His suit coat is draped over his chair, and we’ve danced for hours. It’s taken great restraint not to pull him to my lips and kiss him like he kissed me when he was sick.
I sit down at the table, and he strides off to get us something to drink. A rumble catches my attention, and I look at the weather on my phone. I didn’t know there were storms in the forecast.
Dag waves from the other side of the room, then gives me a thumbs-up. I wasn’t really thinking about how Archer and I had an audience.
Archer hands me a bottle of water. “I need to go soon. Clint texted. They are taking care of a few things before the storm hits. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, but now the weather guys are changing their tune. Dag is the groom’s cousin, and Anderson is still in San Antonio, so they need my help.” He brushes a finger on my bare shoulder. “But I shouldn’t be too long. Then we can talk when I get back.”