Page 14 of Matthew
They had just finished eating when the speakers kicked into a fast-paced country track, and the crowd around the dance floor began to shift, boots tapping, couples parting for a classic line dance.
Jordan’s familiar voice rang out over the mic from the small DJ booth near the stage. “Alright, Harland—y’all know this one. Let’s see those grapevines and boot scoots!”
“Up,” Maggie ordered, grabbing Callie’s wrist.
Emily rose to her feet. “Yeah, I’ll give my husband a break, but you’re not sitting this one out.”
Callie laughed but didn’t resist, weaving through the tables to the dance floor. She caught Jordan’s eye and shot her a salute, which earned her a wink in response.
As the music picked up, Callie settled into the rhythm like she’d been born to it. Confident, smooth, feet tapping in perfect time with the beat. Her denim skirt hugged her sweet, swaying hips with every turn, while her loose hair bounced down her back and shoulders.
From his seat, Matthew tracked her with a slow blink. He couldn’t quite decide if he was watching a woman or a storm rolling in. One he had absolutely no plan for, but suddenly every intention of chasing.
He knew he should look away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the view.
She moved in time to the music. Her steps were confident, relaxed. Perfect. That skirt was going to haunt him, and so was the sway in her hips that somehow felt both unbothered and deliberate.
Herb Boy, huh?
He took a long pull from his beer, already losing whatever argument he was having with himself.
Carter let out a low whistle. “Buddy, you’re circling the drain.”
“Fast,” Caspian added, sipping his drink.
Matthew didn’t respond. He was too busy watching the way Callie nailed the final heel tap and half-turn as if she’d challenged the entire room to keep up.
The moment the song ended, Callie and the girls wove back through the crowd. Her cheeks were flushed, skin glowed, and when she stepped beside their table so close her hand brushed the edge of his chair, Matthew turned slightly in his seat to face her.
Their eyes met for barely a second.
Long enough for the noise of the room to fade into the background. Long enough for Matthew to catch the flicker in her eyes. A split-second shift from surprise to something sharper. Curious. Calculating.
She didn’t move, not right away.
Neither did he.
“You always that good at making people look twice?” he asked, his voice pitched low, the words curling slowly and deliberately between them.
He didn’t know what answer he expected.
But damn if he didn’t want to hear it.
Callie tilted her head, one corner of her mouth lifting like she couldn’t decide if he was amusing or irritating.
Maybe both.
“Depends,” she murmured. “Can you two-step?”
He leaned back, one arm slung across his chair, the other curled around his drink. He met her gaze head-on, his grin unapologetic. Hell, if she was going to pretend he didn’t rattle her, he could return the favor—with interest. “Careful, Morgan. I’ve been trained for high-pressure situations.”
She let out a soft, unbothered laugh. “Then this place should feel like home.”
He set his drink aside and stood, stepping close enough for her to feel the shift in air as he held out his hand. “Let’s find out.”
She hesitated for the briefest second, her gaze searching his before her fingers curled around his hand. He experienced an unexpected jolt from her touch as she let him lead her onto the dance floor.
Incredibly, they moved together like they’d done this before. Not in reality, but in rhythm. Her steps were light, effortless. His were grounded, steady. Muscle memory kicked in for something he’d never known he remembered.
