Page 62 of Meant for Me
She pressed her lips together, thinking back over their ceremony. “No three-tiered cake. No professional photos.”
“No bachelor party.” He winked at her.
Zoey snorted, then sobered. “I didn’t even dance at my own wedding.”
“Well,dear, that’s because you didn’t have a traditional wedding.”
“Exactly my point,honey.”
The refrigerator hummed louder in the sudden silence.
“Doyouthink we made a mistake?” Her whisper carried across the dark kitchen.
With a sigh, Linc ambled to his feet. Her heart quickened. Was he going to bed? She’d gotten too negative. What was she thinking? She needed to be light for him. Sunshine. Joy.
Wasn’t that why he’d invited her into this whole thing in the first place? To help?
She looked up at him towering overhead, sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re dealing with enough,waymore than me, and here I am being super selfish and?—”
“Come ’ere.” Linc hauled her to her feet before she could even accept his offered hand.
She stood and started to let go, but he pulled her to him and clutched her hand between them. Her knuckles rested against his bare chest, and his other arm came around her back, hand lightly grazing her waist. What in the world?—
He began to sway, slowly, side to side, the rhythm steady and beckoning like the waves on the bay.
Dancing.
Tears burned the back of her eyes. Oh no. She couldn’t cry. Not in front of Linc.
She fought the lump in her throat. “But you don’t?—”
“Dance? Definitely not.” He tugged her closer. “Now hush.”
Gladly. She fell into the same pace, resting her upper body against his. His heart thumped under her ear, and hers matched his beat for beat. She closed her eyes, gripping his arm with her free hand, holding on for reasons she couldn’t begin to let herself explore.
He began to hum, low and slightly off-key, the deep bass ricocheting in his chest.
Her throat burned with unshed emotion, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Water dripped in the sink. The scent of Linc’s musky body wash wafted over her. His bicep under her fingers felt warm, strong. Familiar, somehow, though she rarely touched him.
Maybe they were making a huge mistake. Maybe this would all blow up in their faces. Maybe Elisa would get that chance to saytold you solater after all.
But, for tonight, it was just them.
Zoey and Linc. Best friends. Sunshine and storm-clouds.
Dancing.
thirteen
Linc should be on his boat right now, leading a tour. Or checking his equipment, or researching mainland festivals and markets for next season’s haul, or talking to Anthony about ways to expand their business further until spring.
Instead, he was at the end of a three-hour drive north to Lafayette, Zoey riding shotgun with Amelia perched in the middle of the backseat of his truck, making good on the favor he’d promised her yesterday.
Marshland rolled past his window, rock music blaring from the speakers. That part prevented much conversation, which was exactly as he’d hoped. Hard enough keeping his mind on the winding ribbon of asphalt and not on the scent of Zoey’s perfume next to him without adding further distraction.
“Turn here.” Amelia tapped his shoulder, despite his GPS giving him the same direction, and pointed to the right as he approached a four-way stop.
He obliged, taking the opportunity to sneak a peek at Zoey’s profile as he made the turn. Hadn’t gotten much sleep, as last night’s kitchen dance replayed every time he shut his eyes, but he was realizing today it replayed even when his eyes were open. He’d felt bad for her last night, for what she’d given up for him—forthem—and figured he’d owed her a simple dance.
