The Dance (51 page)

My body needed a break. I placed the pastry bag half full of the twice-baked potato mixture of mashed potato, butter, sour cream, chopped scallions, and nutmeg on the countertop. Even though the recipe read just to mound the mixture back into the hollowed-out potatoes shell, I wanted to make it a little nicer by piping a simple ribbon design. The guys wouldn’t notice it, Sophie might, but Hart would appreciate the extra little effort I made.

Tonight was the first time Hart and I were hosting a dinner as a couple, it was also the first time all of our friends would be together. As an added nerve-wrecker I was having everyone over to my place. Hart hadn’t even been here before. The three large steps that led up to the house made the place inaccessible to him and I wasn’t strong enough to pull him up the steps. Since the guys were coming to dinner, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to have Hart come here for a change.

I’d been running around all day cleaning and getting the food ready. Sophie and Ronnie’s new bride, Julia, both offered to help, but I wanted to do this myself. The menu was simple, steaks on the grill, Caesar salad with homemade dressing and garlic croutons, the twice-baked potatoes, and sourdough bread that I’d made yesterday. Sophie insisted on picking up dessert. Since I was just a so-so baker, I didn’t argue.

“Sweetness in the house, bitches!” Sophie’s voice rang out through the house.

When she called this morning about bringing dessert, she heard the quiver in my voice and knew I was nervous about tonight. I had to admit, relief settled in my stomach just by the sound of her voice.

“In the kitchen!” As she walked in the room, I stood and picked up the pastry bag, ready to get back to work.

“Where shall I put my goodies?”

Glancing over my shoulder, all I saw were white bakery bags.

I walked toward them in search of my best friend. “What’s all this?”

Her head popped out from behind the bags. “I couldn’t decide. Everything looked so yummy.” She pulled out boxes, announcing what each contained. “I gotcha chocolate-chunk cookies, biscotti, whoopee pies, a dozen red velvet cupcakes, and a pecan pie.”

“There’s enough for an army.”

“Dammit!” she shouted.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot the whipped cream for the pie.”

I shook my head and walked back over to my potatoes. “Don’t worry about it.”

“But now the pie will be naked with its nuts hanging out.” She fell into a fit of giggles at her own joke.

I couldn’t help but join her. “You’re pretty proud of yourself for that one.”

“Aaah, I am,” she said as she headed to the fridge.

Grabbing the bottle of white wine and two glasses, Sophie popped the cork and poured.

Waving an almost full glass in front of me, she said, “Drink.”

“I can’t right now.”

“Bryson?”

“I have to finish this and get it in the oven. I still need to cut up the celery and carrots for the crudités . . .”

“The crud-de-what?”

“Crudités.”

“English, please.” She took a sip of her wine.

“A veggie tray with dipping sauce.”

“Okay, that I understand. I can cut up things and put them on a tray.”

“The asparagus, olives, cucumber, and bell pepper sticks are all in baggies in the fridge.” My rambling was gaining momentum.

“Okay, I . . .”

“You just need to slice the celery and carrots and put everything on that big red tray over there.” I tilted my chin toward the counter across the room.

“I got . . .”

“There’s hummus and vinaigrette dipping sauces already in bowls in the fridge. The patio is set . . . I’ve stocked the metal washtub cooler with beer . . . the wine fridge is full . . .”

“I got it!” Sophie shouted.

“I’m sorry. Maybe a sip of wine would do me some good.”

“A sip? Hell, chug the entire bottle.” She took the pastry bag from my hand and replaced it with the glass of wine. “Uncoil. Why are you so nervous?”

I took a long sip of wine. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”

Sophie grabbed the bamboo cutting board, a knife, and the vegetables and set up her work station across the room. “Everyone will have a great time but you need to calm down. You look fantastic, the place looks fantastic, and the food will be fantastic. It’s all good.”

Tonight was supposed to be casual and fun. Just a bunch of friends getting together to enjoy one another and some good food.

“I know . . . I just . . .”

Sophie’s gaze locked with mine. “I don’t remember you ever being this way about Slimy Bastard.”

I smiled at her nickname for Will.

“Hart’s worth all the effort.”

Sophie didn’t show her emotions easily, so when I saw her eyes mist over, I knew she got it and was happy for me.

“You let him know if he ever hurts you, I’m going to dismantle his wheelchair and shove each part up his ass . . . slowly.” Laughter burst out of me. “Never mind, I’ll tell him myself.” She took a gulp of wine and got to chopping.

I gave her a sideways hug before going back to my potatoes.

My assistant and I worked diligently for the next hour. Appetizers lined the kitchen island, beer and wine were chilled, salad chopped, steaks were marinating. I was putting the finishing touches on the last dessert tray when the doorbell rang.

Looking at Sophie, I took off my apron and ran my hands down the front of me, smoothing out my beige long-sleeve shift dress with black chevron stripes. Hart liked me in anything and nothing at all. But he especially liked it when I wore a dress. I decided to go a little shorter with the hemline tonight and paired it with my brown cowboy boots. After freeing my hair from the pins holding it up, I combed my fingers through it a few times, fluffing it up.

She smiled. “You look gorgeous. Now go open the door for your fella.”

I turned on my heels and ran to the front door, slowing my speed the closer I got. Taking in a deep breath, I opened the door.

I was met by one warm sweet smile from Julia and four exaggerated teeth-bearing grins from Colin, Ronnie, Doug, and Hart.

“Hey, baby!” The guys said in unison, as they all brought bouquets of flowers from behind their backs.

Julia stood off to the side smiling and shaking her head.

Laughing, I said, “You guys are crazy.”

“Crazy for you, baby.” Hart winked.

I stepped to the side to make room for them. “Well, come on in and make yourselves at home. Appetizers are in the kitchen . . .”

Colin entered, handing me his bouquet of wildflowers. “I need food.”

“There’s cold beer out back by the grill and wine in the fridge.”

“I need beer,” Ronnie said, tossing me his bouquet of calla lilies.

He was quickly followed by Julia. “And I need wine. Lots and lots of wine.”

The three disappeared around the corner.

“Oh and Sophie is in there if you need anything,” I called after them.

Turning back toward the door, I was met with a bouquet of daises shoved in my face.

In one continuous stride, Doug walked past me and toward the kitchen. “I need woman.”

I peeked through my arm full of flowers to find a still grinning Hart. He looked sexy in a pair of dark jeans and pale blue V-neck sweater with a white T-shirt underneath. The color turned his eyes bright blue.

I beamed. “You wore the shirt I got you.”

The only time I’d ever seen Hart in a color was the first day at the rehab when I spotted him going into a staff meeting in a bright blue polo. One day when I was shopping I saw the sweater and it reminded me of his eyes. I bought it unsure if he’d break from the black, gray, and white motif he had going on.

“I’m nothing if not open-minded about the other colors of the rainbow. Besides, my hot girlfriend bought it for me. I figured if I wore it I’d get lucky tonight.”

Shaking my head, I blew a few daisy petals out of my face. “The guys didn’t have to do all of this.”

“Those guys are just pussies with those poor excuses for flowers. Now this is a bouquet of flowers.” Hart turned his chair, reaching for something next to the door. When he turned back to me, he held up a huge bouquet of red roses. “Now, this is a bouquet.”

I dropped the armful of flowers on the small table in the foyer and went to Hart.

I took the roses, brought them to my face, and inhaled. “They’re beautiful but you didn’t have to bring me anything.”

“What kind of a boyfriend do you think I am?”

I leaned down, my lips hovering close to his. “A perfect one.”

“Come here.”

“Are you going to stay on the porch all night?”

“You can’t blame a guy for wanting to have a minute alone with his girl.”

I stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind me.

Hart took the bouquet and set it down on one of the rocking chairs.

Looking up at me, he took both my hands in his and laced our fingers together. “You seem a little on edge. You doing okay?”

I nodded. “I am now that you’re here.”

He tugged me forward and onto his lap. Our hands disconnected, allowing mine to slide behind his neck. A few quiet moments were spent exchanging soft kisses.

“You look beautiful,” Hart whispered against my lips as the tips of his fingers played with the hem of my dress. “I love the short dress-boot combo.”

I brought my forehead to his. “I thought you might approve.”

Suddenly, I wished the house was empty and we were alone.

Hart’s lips brushed along my jaw to my neck while his hand slipped underneath my dress and headed up my thigh. “What pair are you wearing tonight?” His warm breath tickled the spot just under my ear, causing goosebumps to pop up over my skin.

My hand landed on top of his, stopping its progress. “Hart, our friends are here.”

“They can’t see us.” He tried moving his hand farther up my thigh as he nibbled down my neck.

With my eyes half closed, I sighed. “What about the neighbors? I’m sure Mrs. Ravenel is glued to her front window.”

His hand made it to the top of my thigh, his fingertips slipping underneath the bottom of my panties. “Then we shouldn’t disappoint.”

Just as I was on the verge of getting completely lost in Hart the front door swung open startling both of us. I looked up to find a hands-on-hips, pissed-off Sophie. Over her shoulder I saw the reason for her mood swing. An obviously ass-glaring and wide-grinning, Doug.

“Get in here. I need more layers of buffer between me and this ass,” she snapped, pointing her thumb over her shoulder.

Muffling a belch, Doug said, “That’s no way to talk about your future sex god.”

Hart and I exchanged knowing looks before I reluctantly eased myself off his lap and headed inside. “Alright, everyone stop looking at and calling one another asses.”

The three followed me into the kitchen. Hart and Sophie grabbed a couple of bottles of wine while I handed off a tray of appetizers to Doug before meeting the others out on the patio.

Hart handled grilling the steaks while I took care of the other dishes. Each of us checked occasionally on the other to see if any help was needed. It felt as if we’d been hosting dinners for years and had our routine down.

For the most part everyone behaved themselves during dinner. And by everyone I meant Doug and Sophie. Doug did provoke a few eyes to roll, several head shakes, and an actual hiss from Sophie. But he was harmless and to his credit blissfully unaware of our reaction. As a group we all seemed to meld together seamlessly. Not once was there any awkwardness or lulls in the conversation.

A Carolina spring night was just about as good as the world got. Even though the temperatures were beginning to rise during the day, the nighttime still had a crisp cool snap in the air. It was a perfect night for sitting around the fire pit with old and new friends.

After a lengthy discussion among the guys on the proper way to create the ideal fire, we were finally enjoying said fire, drinking coffee, and stuffing our faces with the desserts Sophie brought. “Coming Home” by Leon Bridges filtered through the outdoor speakers. Hart’s musical taste had definitely rubbed off on me.

Ronnie and Julia were cuddled up on the double lounger. Colin sat on the stone bench near the fire pit, keeping a watchful eye on the fire. Sophie and Doug looked like they were playing a game of musical chairs. She’d find a spot. He’d head to the spot. She’d move and he’d follow. After twenty minutes of this it was barely noticeable.

I found myself snuggled underneath a soft fleece blanket on what had quickly become my favorite place to be, Hart’s lap in his arms. Will and Hart were as different as night and day in many aspects. One of the biggest differences was how comfortable Hart was showing me affection. Around other people he wasn’t shy about holding my hand, giving me a light kiss, or having his arms wrapped around me. It wasn’t the icky, doe-eyed type of affection that made others feel uncomfortable. It was easy and natural and I loved it.