The Dance (37 page)

“Hey, Honeybun,” I whispered.

The white puff of fur vibrated as a low menacing rumble shook of out her.

I took a step toward freedom. “Shh . . .”

Still vibrating, Honeybun took a step toward my ankle.

The slam of a door caused my gaze to shoot to the street just in time to see Amber walking past my car. She was so focused on looking at her phone, she didn’t even notice. Her bubble-butt got into the mystery car and drove off.

Turning my attention back on the beast in front me, I tentatively stepped to the side, hoping Honeybun would feel less threatened. Before my foot hit the ground a barrage of yip-yaps flew out of the round white puff like a twenty-one gun-salute. I froze. My only hope was that Hart had gotten so used to the noise, he turned a deaf ear on the little bitch. Simultaneously, Miss Polly’s voice filled the air as the front of her house lit up.

The sweet old lady appeared at the end of her porch, frantically clapping her hands. “Honeybun, stop that right now and get back in this house.”

The puff shot me one final yap before turning and running up on the porch.

Holding my breath, I stayed as still as a statue until Miss Polly went inside her house.

“Bryson, is that you?” she said, leaning slightly over the porch railing.

Fuuuuuck meee!

“Hey,” I croaked.

“My heavens, what are you doing out here?”

Think, think, think.

Stepping slightly forward, I kept my voice low and lied. “I was driving by on my way home and I noticed your beautiful rose bushes. I love roses . . . all kinds. I just had to get a closer look.”

Her face was in shadow so I wasn’t able to tell by her expression whether she believed me or not.

“Come inside for a little bit.”

“I really should be going.”

She turned and shuffled toward her door, scolding Honeybun for her great escape. I could have and should have just gotten in my car and gone home, putting this asinine move behind me. But I found myself walking up to Miss Polly’s porch and into her house.

“Honeybun you’ve been such a bad girl.” Closing the door, she smiled at me. “She must have snuck out when I was sweeping out front.”

“She’s a really good watch dog.”

“Come in the kitchen.”

I followed her through a large living room and into the bright yellow kitchen.

Miss Polly pointed to the small café type table by the window. “Have a seat.”

Realizing my car was still in Hart’s driveway, I said, “I can’t stay.”

She reached in the cabinet and pulled down two plates. “Hart brought over some of that delicious fried chicken I told you about.”

The little lady wasn’t exaggerating when she said Hart piled it up high. There must have been two birds perched on the plate set on the countertop.

“Thank you so much but really I can’t . . .”

She handed me the plate of fried chicken. “Now go put that on the table.”

I did what I was told and sat down.

Miss Polly walked over with our two plates and a roll of paper towels under one arm.

She placed a couple of pieces of chicken on a plate and handed it to me with a smile. “Hart was going to eat with me but he had something come up at the last minute.”

He had something come up, alright.

I sunk my teeth into a drumstick and tasted the best thing I’d ever had in my mouth. Just the right amount of buttermilk batter coated the chicken. It was crisp and seasoned to perfection. Underneath, the chicken was tender, moist, and melted in my mouth.

I closed my eyes, and a slight moan escaped me. “Mmm . . . this is amazing.”

“I told you.” She tore apart a wing. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you were lurking in my yard?”

I sputtered and coughed as a piece of chicken lodged in my throat. Miss Polly got up and brought me back a glass of water. A couple of sips later the chicken was free.

“I told you.” Bringing the innocence up a notch in my voice.

She sent me a warm grandmotherly smile as she sat back down. “No one looks at roses in the dark, dear.”

Busted.

There was no getting around the fact. No matter what story I came up with I had a feeling this little old lady would know I was full of crap. I had to come clean.

My gaze focused down on the piece of chicken I was picking apart. “I got some great news today. I wanted to tell Hart and since I don’t have his phone number, I thought I’d drop by but . . .”

“Something came up?” I glanced up at the knowing twinkle in her eye. “I love that boy as if he were my own grandson. When his mom passed I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and not let go until all the pain disappeared. Then there was the accident. After his body recovered he filled his heart and life with work. Hartford has achieved so much. But he’s still lost and searching. With your help, I think he might just find what he’s been looking for.”

This being only the second time I’d been in her company, I wondered where this was coming from.

“It’s complicated.”

She reached over and placed her hand on mine. “Matters of the heart usually are.”

“He seems to have his life arranged the way he prefers.”

“Hartford’s a good man. And a good man always prefers a woman of quality over a common whore, dear.”

She gave my hand a couple of pats and then returned to her plate of chicken.

After sharing my great news with Miss Polly, I helped her clean up our fried feast. I thanked her and my lucky stars that there were no signs my car had been discovered. I drove home with a belly full of goodness and a head full of scrambled thoughts.

In a short period of time my friendship with Hart had grown more than I expected. He felt familiar and new all at the same time. It was as if he saw the real me and not the scared girl who spent the last ten years accepting what others thought of her as the truth. Hart challenged and believed in me. He was interested in what I had to say. And he made me laugh. I felt lighter and stronger around him. I wanted his friendship. I needed his friendship. But my attraction to him clouded everything.

Needing a little breather to clear my head, I avoided Hart for the next few days. I parked in a different spot, came in through the back entrance of the rehab, and did a lot of dodging around corners when I spotted him in the hallway. Not having Hart be a part of my day made everything feel mediocre. But the sinking feeling I experienced when I heard him and Amber scared me. There was a huge amount of self-doubt that I was able to stay unaffected by his relationship with her or any other woman he had an arrangement with. After a little distance, I felt positive I’d be able to sort out my feelings and the pull wouldn’t be as strong.

The entire week I flip-flopped on whether to cancel Hart’s cooking lesson on Saturday. By Friday afternoon I felt pretty confident that I had my crush under manageable control. Plus, I needed to test myself to see if I could be around him without falling for him.

Every nerve in my body tingled as I pulled into the driveway. Staring at the house, I filled my lungs with steady breaths in hopes of calming the jitters. After a couple of unsuccessful attempts, I finally mustered up enough courage to get out and unload the car. I took the bags with the gift and the surprise up first, setting them by the door. With my purse and tote slung over my shoulder, I grabbed the other two bags loaded with groceries and headed up the steps. I inhaled one last deep breath and pushed the doorbell.

Within seconds the door swung open revealing Hart in a pair of well-worn jeans and a crisp white T-shirt with matching socks. He must have just taken a shower because his hair was damp. The way the T-shirt stretched across his chest had my body throbbing in areas I didn’t even know existed. Add to that how happy he looked to see me and I was a goner.

So much for distance. Epic fail.

Butter slipped out the door, her fluffy tail swishing back and forth as usual.

“Hey, sweet girl.” I squeaked.

Her big snout nudged at my leg a couple of times until the lure of something greater caught her attention. She tentatively sniffed the bag with Hart’s gift and then plunged her head all the way in.

“Butter. No.” Her floppy ears bolted from the bag, bouncing back into the house without argument. “Hey,” Hart said, his eyes were lit bright blue.

“Hey.” Gushed out of me. “Are we still on for the lesson? Because if this isn’t a good time or you’re tired from the day we can always reschedule . . .”

“Br . . .”

“Don’t feel obligated to go through with it if you don’t feel up to it.”

“Brys . . .”

“I mean, it’s no big deal. I can go back home. I only live fifteen minutes away and everything will keep in the fridge for several days . . .”

I was well aware of my sudden onset of verbal diarrhea but it was beyond my power to stop it.

“Bryso . . .”

“I was going to call you and check to see if you were still in the mood. Then I remembered I didn’t have your phone number.”

Reaching out, Hart grabbed my wrist. “Bryson!”

My body jerked with electricity as his skin touched mine.

“Breathe, Bryson.” My chest visibly collapsed. “I was running a little late and just got out of the shower.”

“That’s okay, I can wait until you’re ready.” I didn’t move.

The corners of his mouth twitched into a grin. “You can come in. You don’t need to stay out on the porch.”

I shook my head, my face pinching together at my stupidity.

“Let me help you bring some of this stuff in.”

“I’ve got it.”

Hart cocked a golden blond eyebrow at me and I knew immediately there was no need to argue. Since I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, I handed over the grocery bags to him and picked up the others. Holding one bag and placing the other in his lap, he headed toward the kitchen with me following close behind. Butter poked her head around the corner spying on us. While Hart hoisted the bags onto the counter, I sat mine off to the side, keeping them out of the way until I was ready to reveal what was inside.

“Was there anything left in the store once you left?” He teased.

I started unpacking the groceries. “A couple of things.”

Our audience quickly lost interest, trotting away and curling up on her bed in the corner.

“How much do I owe you for all of this?”

“Nothing.”

“Bryson . . .”

“This is my treat.” I insisted. “Unless of course you don’t want to bother with it. You can be honest. I won’t be upset. I was going to call you but I didn’t have your number . . .”

Hart grabbed my elbow, bringing a halt to the unpacking and the babbling.

He looked up at me with soft eyes. “You already told me that.”

My cheeks flushed with warmth. “Sorry.”

“First things first. You’re staying. Hand me your phone.”

He held up his hand. I placed my phone in the center of his palm. As he entered his number, Hart’s gaze darted from me to the phone. A second later his cellphone on the coffee table rang.

“Now, you can explain why you’ve been avoiding me all week.”

A knot formed in my stomach as I returned to the grocery bags. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“Bullshit.” Hart wrapped his fingers around my wrist, pulling me toward the living room area. “Sit,” he said, indicating the large gray leather ottoman. I sat, bringing us eye-to-eye. “Talk to me.”

His expression was full of concern, not anger. I didn’t want to lie to him but I couldn’t tell him the truth either. So I settled for somewhere in the middle.

Tearing my gaze away, I said, “I thought I was being a pest. You know, dropping by your office every day and bothering you with my problems.”

He stared at me for a long time, trying to figure out whether I was being honest.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, you can believe what you want.” I was going for nonchalance but it sounded more defensive.

“When you didn’t come back after the interview, I assumed it didn’t go well. The next day I roamed the halls, hoping to see you. I even glanced in Will’s room. I was concerned about you.”