Page 190 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
And then, the last notes hit.
Our song.
My chest feels like thunder splitting the sky and like I’m losing something I never even had.
I want to move, but I can’t—can’t stop watching her.
Her eyes flicker across the room, scanning the crowd.
She’s looking for me.
It hits me hard.
She feels it, too—that damn song. That look—the one that used to stop time between us.
The performer moves closer to her, grinning and sliding his hand up her arm. She’s caught in the show, her eyes flicking back to him.
He spins her, pulling her into him, lifting her high off the ground before setting her back on the stool and strutting away.
The crowd cheers, but it’s all background noise. I’m not watching him anymore. All I see is her. Every movement, everyflick of her hair, and every light in her eyes. It’s like she’s dancing with me.
It’s always been just her and me. I just couldn’t tell her.
But nothing is holding me back in this moment.
Nothing but myself.
It’s now or never.
32: SLOW HAND
JADE
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THE COWBOY STALKS toward me slowly, hips rolling with the beat, one hand dragging down the front of his chest.
He stops just in front of me, and I force my eyes away from the man I want to look at.
Why does it always have to be him?
The crowd goes wild again.
“Touch him!” I hear Josie’s voice loudest.
“Do it!” Hope’s shriek follows.
All we’ve been doing is touching each other.
The dancer crouches low and locks eyes with me. His smile is wicked and knowing, and maybe it’s the lights or the thrill, but he looks just enough like my cowboy to knock the breath out of me.
I’m reeling.
My mind is a mess.
I was having a great time—more than I’d ever admit to my sisters. Hell, I didn’t even mind getting called up center stage.
Although I’m certain Josie’s “Uh-oh” and Harper’s “cowboy time” were clear indications that they had something to do with the light landing on me.
