“I’ll ask the band to slow things down.” Shalene headed off, moving rapidly toward the bandstand.
A slow dance with Emmy Lou sounded like the perfect way to wind out the evening. It gave him the excuse he needed to touch her. CiCi King would have to grin and bear it. He slid his coat on and offered her his hand. “If you’re ready, Miss King?”
She stared up at him, a hesitant smile on her face. Her hand was ice-cold in his grasp. “Thank you.” She was up, hooking her arm through his.
He was acutely aware of the sudden lack of conversation at their table. If he looked—which he didn’t—he’d probably find every single one of them watching. When the strains of “When I Fall in Love” began, Brock accepted the fact that the next five minutes were going to be painfully awkward—but well worth it.
He led Emmy onto the dance floor, flexing his hand before placing it on her back. “I’m better at swaying anyway.” He glanced down to find her staring straight at his chest.
“I know,” she murmured, the ghost of a smile on her lips.
In order to put her hand on his shoulder, she had to stand closer—close enough that he could hear her breathe. But since they were both attempting to keep space between them, it wasn’t the most natural pose.
“Great, great,” Shalene said. “Let’s get some smiles.”
Emmy, he knew, would have the smile thing down—no problem. For him, it was a problem. He wasn’t wired that way. And something about this whole evening made him begin to worry about what would happen when this was over. Not to him, but to Emmy Lou.
“You look like you’re in pain.” Krystal was up, standing beside the photographer, a cell phone in her hand. “Emmy, stop kicking him.”
“What?” Emmy was horrified. “I’m not.”
“So, you’re, what, stomping on his toes?” Krystal asked, watching them.
Emmy laughed. “I’m way up on my tiptoes. I can’t stomp or kick him.”
Dammit. With a sigh, he pulled her closer. “Better?”
They were so close now she had to look up at him. “Yes.”
He nodded. Could she feel his heart clipping along? He sure as hell hoped not.
She slowly relaxed against him.
It felt good having her hand in his, his arm holding her close; the rest of the room seemed to fade away. He didn’t mind.
“I know you prefer keeping personal life private.” She nibbled on the inside of her lip—a dead giveaway that she was worrying. “This Bremmy thing is out of control. I—”
He shook his head. “I made a choice to go after you.”
Her throat tightened. “But…are you okay with it? Are Aunt Mo and your father okay?”
“They don’t mind. Not that they’re big on Twitter.” He cleared his throat, smiling broadly.
“Great smiles. Hold it.” Shalene nodded as the photographer clicked away. “All right. You enjoy yourselves.”
“Do you?” she whispered. “Mind, I mean?”
“I’m not really on Twitter either, but I’m a fan.” He was staring down at her now. Sometimes he forgot just how green her eyes were. “Pro-Bremmy.”
Her voice was a whisper. “Really?”
He nodded. Privacy was important, but this was different. Primarily because she was involved. Plus, Connie was over-the- moon excited about the positive attention he was getting.
Emmy was studying him, eyes wide and still nibbling away.
“What about you?” He turned slowly, concealing their conversation.
Her breath wavered. “I…I’m a fan, too.” Her fingers slid above the collar of his shirt.