Page 6 of An Unfinished Memory

The song wound down, but Jennings didn’t let me go. Vienne appeared at my side and put her hand on my shoulder, her many bracelets falling down to her elbow. She was wearing contacts tonight, her turquoise eyes vivid. It was a wonder Jennings wasn’t after her, but all the single men were playing round-robin with the single women tonight. “Hey, I’m heading home.”

I broke away from Jennings and gave her a quick hug. “Thanks for staying out with me.”

She grinned. “I danced my ass off, and that hasn’t happened for a while.”

Jennings clasped my hand once again as the first notes of an upbeat country song played. As he tugged me toward him, I gave Vienne a mildly perplexed look. Couldn’t he see I was in the middle of talking to my friend?

She sent me a questioning-but-hopeful look that asked if I was into him, but I gave my head a little shake. Her lips turned down. She’d want to rescue me, but I was fine. I’d rather have one night of my weekend be more exciting than finding a project to do around my house.

“See you later.” I gave her a wave before planting my hand on Jennings’s shoulder to keep some room between us. I didn’t want her to feel like she had to stay. She probably wanted to get back to her daughter.

We took a step, and he tangled a boot around mine. “Oops, sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’ll do better.”

Guilt crushed the annoyance. He really was a nice guy. I didn’t want to lead him on, but I hadn’t been in the position to give a guy the wrong idea in a long time.

I was out of my element—with men and street dances.

I was ruined.

No. I wasn’t. I was a single woman with her life ahead of her. Life-altering orgasms were not relegated to my past.

But I doubted they were in a future with Jennings.

I mentally let out a long sigh. Jennings could be a stud in bed for all I knew. I was trying to piece myself back together, but I couldn’t tell if I was still broken or ifit was just that my available choices would never measure up. There was more to a solid relationship than amazing sex. If I didn’t know that, I would still be married.

The song wrapped up, and another started. I struggled to identify the original singer to take my mind off the decision between staying to dance with men who gave me bruised toenails or going home to an empty house. Was this a cover of one of the Lukes’ songs? Dierks Bentley? Who were the new guys these days?

Jennings’s hold only loosened a little. “Would you like to dance again?”

He was so dang polite and not as handsy as others I’d spun around with tonight. But the lure of the bathtub was strong. My feet hurt, and I missed…him. Yet there were too many memories of going home after a street dance and burning up the sheets. A faint throb started between my thighs. I wasn’t going home like this. I’d burn off the energy.

Before I could answer, a man wove out of the dwindling crowd from our right. My desire was still kicked up. The disconnect between my mind and body made my vision go haywire. The height. The broad shoulders. No. He wasn’t who I thought he was. I’d danced with that guy earlier tonight. His expression was intent, and his gaze was lasered on Jennings. I was turned on, but not for the man whose clammy grip held mine. Nor was it for the man approaching us.

A strong hand stroked along my back, and I cut off a deep sigh before it slipped out. A large shadow blocked out the lights around the stage.

“I’m cutting in,” the new arrival said in a voice that lit up my body better than a spotlight.

My gaze snapped up. Was the confusion clouding allof my brain? The tall, frowning man with his strong hand on me was an illusion. A painfully familiar one I drank in. “Wilder?”

My heart rate slowed, doing its version of a slow clap. My brain stopped working. My hormones yelled, “Survey says,this is the guy!”

How could he just appear?

Was I so miserable I was hallucinating?

Was there a guy in Crocus Valley who looked like Wilder Knight? A man with the same strong jaw, dark scruff that defied daily shaving, and flashing brown eyes? Another Wilder who would appear discontent and annoyed that I was in another man’s arms?

No. This was my Wilder. Except he was no longer mine.

Behind my ex-husband’s shoulder, the guy who’d planned to cut in flattened his lips and shook his head before he changed directions.

“Where’d you come from?” I clung to Jennings like he was my life preserver.

The beat between my legs did not match the song. It matched the man I was looking at.

“Just got here.” Wilder not-so-subtly muscled Jennings out of the way until the poor guy stumbled back, an aggravated twist to his mouth. The tempo of the song increased, and Wilder hooked an arm around my waist, tugged me close, took my hand in his solid, roughly calloused grip, and spun me around.

A full-body wave of relief hit me. I flattened my hand on his warm, broad back and let him take charge. The last few minutes left me mentally drained, and I needed a moment to figure out what was going on. His heat seeped through the white button-up shirt he wore, accented withtwo different shades of brown. One of his good shirts. He had a cowboy hat tucked low on his head, giving me partial cover because I was that damn close to him.

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