positioning her arms around his shoulders. “Because if I had to do it over again, I would have said yes when you asked me to the Sadie Hawkins Dance when we were thirteen. I’m catching up on past regrets.”
Sadie stared straight ahead, which meant the only thing she could see was Erik’s gray shirt pocket. Where had that statement come from? They swayed back and forth like two middle schoolers, their feet shuffling on the floor, while other couples stayed up to swing-dance speed. Erik hummed along with the music and Sadie inhaled the faint scent of fabric softener that clung to his clothes.
“We’re dancing too slow.”
“I’m content.” Erik rested his chin on top of her head and continued to hum for a few seconds. “I’m holding you. You’re letting me lead. And you haven’t stepped on my foot in a couple of minutes. It’s turning out to be a good evening, don’t you think?”
When Erik moved his head to look down at her, Sadie made the mistake of looking up, her cheek brushing against the soft cotton fabric of his shirt. In the muted light of the room, Sadie tried to decipher the way Erik’s eyes warmed . . . He was close enough to kiss, if she wanted to do something that crazy.
On a swift intake of breath, Sadie realized she wanted to kiss him. She did. If his arms tightened around her, or if he tipped his head the slightest bit closer—she’d close her eyes and say yes to this longing.
And then the song ended. The dancers slowed. Moved away. And Erik released her.
The moment faded with the last notes of the music.
By the time the class ended, Erik had coaxed her into trying the basic steps again—and they’d managed to master them. Well, almost. But she’d laughed at her missteps, not tensed up. And Erik ended the final dance with a sillyflourish, dipping her and dropping the lightest of kisses on her cheek.
Silly man.
On the ride home, Sadie tucked herself into the passenger’s seat, her hands folded in her lap, as she watched the blur of houses along Broadway pass by outside the car window. She and Erik had never danced together before. It was . . . unfamiliar . . . to be that close to him for an hour. To feel the pressure of his hands guiding her, to be so near that his beard brushed against her face, to feel his arm wrapped around her waist, to listen to him hum . . . and to wonder if he could feel her heart beating like she could feel his.
“Tired?”
“ Hmm .” She shook her head, dispelling her thoughts. “In a good way.”
“I’m glad. We’ll try it again sometime.”
“Sure.”
They would? When—and why? And would it be a date—or would they be back to “best friends only” status again?
Outside her house, Erik stepped up onto the small front porch while she searched in her purse for her key and slipped it into the lock.
“You want to come in? I could make some coffee.”
“I don’t think so.”
A small pang—something indefinable—tripped her heart. “Oh. I understand. On deadline?”
“No.” Erik stood in the shadows. “That’s not it at all. It’s because of this.”
Before she realized his intent, Erik leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed her.
He didn’t touch her, save for the firm pressure of his lips against hers.
Erik pulled away the barest of inches. “Sadie?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to kiss you again.”
He didn’t wait for her to say no or yes or please . He cradled her face with his hands, which were cool from the fall night air, his thumbs caressing her skin and sending shivers down her neck. His kiss coaxed a response from her, his lips soft against hers, the taste of his mouth enticing in its newness. Sadie leaned into Erik, savoring the touch of his hands against her skin, the warmth of his mouth. When he ended the kiss, Sadie’s hand clutched the front of his coat, as if anchoring herself to him.
“And that, my dear Sadie”—Erik rested his forehead against hers, his breath warming her
Sadie stared straight ahead, which meant the only thing she could see was Erik’s gray shirt pocket. Where had that statement come from? They swayed back and forth like two middle schoolers, their feet shuffling on the floor, while other couples stayed up to swing-dance speed. Erik hummed along with the music and Sadie inhaled the faint scent of fabric softener that clung to his clothes.
“We’re dancing too slow.”
“I’m content.” Erik rested his chin on top of her head and continued to hum for a few seconds. “I’m holding you. You’re letting me lead. And you haven’t stepped on my foot in a couple of minutes. It’s turning out to be a good evening, don’t you think?”
When Erik moved his head to look down at her, Sadie made the mistake of looking up, her cheek brushing against the soft cotton fabric of his shirt. In the muted light of the room, Sadie tried to decipher the way Erik’s eyes warmed . . . He was close enough to kiss, if she wanted to do something that crazy.
On a swift intake of breath, Sadie realized she wanted to kiss him. She did. If his arms tightened around her, or if he tipped his head the slightest bit closer—she’d close her eyes and say yes to this longing.
And then the song ended. The dancers slowed. Moved away. And Erik released her.
The moment faded with the last notes of the music.
By the time the class ended, Erik had coaxed her into trying the basic steps again—and they’d managed to master them. Well, almost. But she’d laughed at her missteps, not tensed up. And Erik ended the final dance with a sillyflourish, dipping her and dropping the lightest of kisses on her cheek.
Silly man.
On the ride home, Sadie tucked herself into the passenger’s seat, her hands folded in her lap, as she watched the blur of houses along Broadway pass by outside the car window. She and Erik had never danced together before. It was . . . unfamiliar . . . to be that close to him for an hour. To feel the pressure of his hands guiding her, to be so near that his beard brushed against her face, to feel his arm wrapped around her waist, to listen to him hum . . . and to wonder if he could feel her heart beating like she could feel his.
“Tired?”
“ Hmm .” She shook her head, dispelling her thoughts. “In a good way.”
“I’m glad. We’ll try it again sometime.”
“Sure.”
They would? When—and why? And would it be a date—or would they be back to “best friends only” status again?
Outside her house, Erik stepped up onto the small front porch while she searched in her purse for her key and slipped it into the lock.
“You want to come in? I could make some coffee.”
“I don’t think so.”
A small pang—something indefinable—tripped her heart. “Oh. I understand. On deadline?”
“No.” Erik stood in the shadows. “That’s not it at all. It’s because of this.”
Before she realized his intent, Erik leaned forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed her.
He didn’t touch her, save for the firm pressure of his lips against hers.
Erik pulled away the barest of inches. “Sadie?”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to kiss you again.”
He didn’t wait for her to say no or yes or please . He cradled her face with his hands, which were cool from the fall night air, his thumbs caressing her skin and sending shivers down her neck. His kiss coaxed a response from her, his lips soft against hers, the taste of his mouth enticing in its newness. Sadie leaned into Erik, savoring the touch of his hands against her skin, the warmth of his mouth. When he ended the kiss, Sadie’s hand clutched the front of his coat, as if anchoring herself to him.
“And that, my dear Sadie”—Erik rested his forehead against hers, his breath warming her
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