The Dance (39 page)

“Now what I’m about to show you is top secret. You must swear to carry it to the grave.”

“Scout’s honor.” He crossed his heart.

From the last bag I pulled out a bottle of original Kraft barbeque sauce.

“What are you gonna do with that?”

“It’s my secret sauce ingredient.”

“You’re shitting me?”

With the most serious expression I could muster, I said, “I am not shitting you.”

The wine and beer had us buzzing a little more.

Hart craned his neck as I tipped the bottle over. “How much of that are you putting in?”

“I never measure it. Sometimes you have to feel your way.”

“Feeling my way is my favorite pastime.”

He grabbed another beer, my glass, and the bottle of wine before heading to the sofa with Butter trailing.

I covered the crock pot and flipped it on. “Plates?”

“Second cabinet on the right.”

I found the plates with no problem, snatched a couple of napkins, and the pizza and took a spot on the sofa. Butter sat patiently, her caramel eyes focused as I dished out the pizza. I glanced up at Hart refilling my wine glass. In that moment there was nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, with him, doing this. Sophie warned me to be careful not to put my heart at risk for falling. But you can’t see a fall before it happens and when it does, it’s too late.

“What caused your divorce?”

“Wow, you don’t believe in easing into things, do you?”

“I believe in easing into some things,” he said, cocking an eyebrow along with one corner of his mouth.

Hart and I settled back and got comfy. He was still in his wheelchair while I sat on the sofa, shoes off, with my legs curled under me. I wiped my hands with the napkin before reaching for my wine and taking a sip.

“I had a miscarriage and things snowballed after that.” My vision blurred as my eyes began to mist. I shook my head trying to compose myself. “Sorry.”

Hart handed me a fresh napkin. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

I dabbed underneath each eye. “I guess some things you never get over.”

“My mom used to tell me, you can get past the death of a loved one but you never get over it.”

I stared into his soft eyes. “She was a wise woman.”

Hart broke the connection and reached for his slice of pizza.

“I also found out he never loved me.” The words came out blunt and unemotional.

Hart put down his slice of pizza. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well, it’s true. That and his propensity for skanky whores.”

Picking up his beer, he leaned back and took a swig. “By definition aren’t whores skanky?”

“Not technically. A whore can be sophisticated like your high-priced call girls or the housewives of . . . pick your city. A skank on the other hand is sleazy and unpleasant but doesn’t necessarily open her legs up for business.”

He held up his beer like he was making a toast. “I stand corrected. Well, I sit corrected.”

His joke caught me off guard for a second but it didn’t make me uncomfortable.

With pursed lips, I tilted my head to the side. “That was a really bad joke.”

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was pretty bad.”

“So, if he never loved you why the marriage?”

“And we’re back on topic,” I said, raising my glass in the air.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

I hadn’t said much to Hart about my marriage. The main reason being I didn’t want to waste our time together talking about Will.

“I was perfect for the role of wife according to his parents. Good girl from a good family with just the right amount of humility. It’s all about appearances with the Forsyths. Since Will’s older brother, Alex, was and continues to be a huge disappointment, all the expectations were put on Will. He loved being the number-one son and all the perks that came along with it, including being handed the family business. All he had to do was keep up appearances.”

The room fell silent as Hart stared and I took one long sip of wine.

“Did you love him?”

“What is it they say? Hindsight is twenty-twenty? Part of me loved him and the other part loved everybody’s idea of him. Have you ever done something just because it’s easily accessible? Everyone talks in your ear, telling you this is the direction you need to go. There’s nothing wrong with the direction except you just don’t want to go that way. But you’re young and don’t trust yourself enough to step out on your own because you’ve convinced yourself that everyone else has the right answers.”

Looking at Hart, he’d not taken his eyes off of me the entire time. My gaze roamed over his lifeless legs and the straps holding them in place. I swallowed the lump in my throat as tears bubbled up behind my eyes. I felt like a whiny brat.

Running my fingers underneath my eyes, I said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For moaning about the dumbass choices I’ve made in my life. Compared to what you’ve had to endure and overcome . . . I have no right to complain.”

“It’s not a contest to see who had the hardest life, Bryson.”

I stared into a pair of steady, intent eyes without a single hint of contempt for my complaining.

“Why didn’t you ever ask me out in high school?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “The line was too long.”

Sniffling, I ran my napkin under my nose. “That’s such bullshit.”

“Why didn’t you ever talk to me after our dance?”

I hesitated several seconds trying to decide if I was ready to admit the truth.

“You scared me,” I whispered.

“Looks like we had a lot in common.”

We locked eyes as the air in the room thickened. Soft piano notes trickled around us followed by the deep raspy voice of Rod Stewart singing his rendition of “The Way You Look Tonight”. When the song drifted into recognition, I thought of my moment with Hart all those years ago and all the moments we’d missed since then. It took every ounce of strength I had to not let sobs of regret pour out of me.

I tore my gaze from his and slid to the edge of the sofa. “I better get this cleaned up.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

Hart moved forward at the same time I stood. My head went fuzzy as the room blurred, causing me to sway toward the end of the coffee table. Hart reached for my hips as I staggered back and onto his lap.

His protective arm snaked its way around my waist, pressing my back to his hard chest. “Whoa! Are you okay?”

“I must have drunk a little more than I thought.”

Shifting, I made an unsuccessful attempt at standing.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear.

The rough tip of his scruff grazed the shell of my ear, prickling all the way down to the spot just below my lobe. Heat roared through my body as his warm breath coated the back of my neck. A layer of goosebumps covered in tingles replaced my skin. Every one of the sensations intensified and culminated between my legs. I clenched my core, hoping to dull the vibrations taking over me.

The soft touch his lips settle in the crook of my neck. Instinctively, I tilted my head to the side, wanting his mouth to continue its trip over my skin. As I melted deeper into Hart, his arm loosened and fell away. My throat tightened with a scream or a sob, I couldn’t distinguish which was trying to push its way up and out.

Twisting my body, I shifted my legs to the side, bringing us face to face. My chest brushed lightly against his. We were so close the airspace between us was practically nonexistent. Somehow the scent of pizza, beer, and spices complemented one another and were more intoxicating than the wine. My lips parted at the touch of his breath. Slow and steady, I inhaled as much of him as my lungs would hold. Neither of us said a word as we got lost in the other.

As the music continued to swirl around us, the wheelchair slowly moved away from the sofa and began to gently sway from side to side to the song . . . our song. The movement was almost undetectable. Hart’s eyes seared into me as if I was the most incredible sight he’d ever seen. I was utterly spellbound.

Raising his hand, he gently brushed away a stray strand of hair off my cheek. “My god, you’re beautiful.” His voice was low and full of awe. “And I’m not just talking about your eyes or your lips or even all the amazing soft curves of your body.”

I blinked back more tears. It had been such a long time since I felt wanted and admired. Abruptly, we stopped dancing and Hart closed his eyes, breaking the connection. His chest lifted, filling with oxygen as he pulled back.

“Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” The words shook with panic.

His eyes shot open overflowing with conflict. “Bryson . . . we shouldn’t . . .”

I tried to hide my hurt and disappointment but a tear escaped before I was able to rein it in. “I understand.”

“What do you understand?”

“Nothing. I was lying before.”

Cupping the side of my face, his thumb moved over my cheek, wiping away the tear. “Bryson, you’re special and deserve someone who can offer you the complete package. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I didn’t want to beg or plead, trying to convince him to do something he wasn’t into. But I’d reached the point of no return and needed Hart in every sense of the word.

“I’m a big girl, not expecting anything more than what you want to give. It could be as simple as two friends helping each other out.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I need a transition guy. Just someone to have fun with, no pressure. And you don’t do relationships. We’d be perfect together if you think about it.”

“Oh, I’ve thought about it.” He peered into my eyes, trying to make sure I knew what I was getting into.

I wasn’t exactly sure myself. It was as if my need for Hart possessed my body and was running the show. My brain had shut down and desire was doing all the talking and not considering any of the consequences.

“I can’t make promises,” he said.

“I’m not asking for any.”

Hart’s hand slowly traveled up my thigh and hip, stopping where the top of my jeans met the bottom of my chocolate brown wrap shirt. The tips of his fingers played with the edge of the hem as he held my gaze.

He leaned in, his voice deep and husky. “Bryson, is your marriage really done?”

Inching closer, I whispered, “Everything but the paperwork.”

“Slide your hands up my chest.”

I inhaled and followed his instructions. My gaze dropped as I pressed my palms flat against his toned stomach. After a few seconds of hesitation, Hart covered my hands with his and began guiding them up. I felt every ripped muscle, smooth plane, and deep indention that made up his torso. He sucked in a sharp breath as my palms moved over his already hard nipples, causing my gaze to shoot up. Hart picked up on the flash of uncertainty in my eyes.

“We don’t have to go through with anything,” he said, letting go.

My hands stayed glued to his chest as I dipped my chin. “My . . . um . . . experience is severely limited . . . in all areas. Even kissing . . . I won’t be as good as Amber.”

Lifting my chin with his index finger, Hart leaned in and whispered, “Shh, get her out of your head.” He nibbled down my cheek to my jaw. “I never kissed her. I never kissed any of them.”

I was in the midst of being swept away, so I remained still, allowing him to work his way to the spot under my ear. “None of them?”

A combination moan and huff left me as Hart pulled away.

Cupping both sides of my face, he stared into my eyes. “Never on the lips.”

“Seriously?”

Placing a kiss at the corner of my mouth he said, “Seriously.”

As Hart continued to explore my skin, my eyes drifted closed.

“It’s hard to believe you haven’t kissed anyone. I mean, you’re twenty-six.” My words were coming out part breathy sigh and part moan.

His lips left my skin. “I didn’t say I’ve never kissed anyone. It’s just been a long time. A kiss, like the one I’m about to give you, isn’t important to a guy unless the girl is.”