One Last Time (Loveless Brothers 5)

“No,” he says, and smiles, looking a little sheepish. “I’ve been it a hundred times and didn’t know.”

“I made the front page of the paper,” I tell him as we walk through the door. “You didn’t see that?”

I guess it was a slow news day. Seth just shrugs.

“No,” he says. “Hand to God, I had no idea I’d been looking at your mural all this time.”

“You two!” a man’s voice calls, from the stage. “You here to dance? Get your coats off and get up front!”

“Nerd,” I whisper to Seth, shrugging out of layers.

He just winks at me.

“You like it,” he whispers back.Fine, I like it.

Turns out square dancing is totally fun, which isn’t something I ever though I’d say.

As soon as we get our outer layers off, the man directing us from the stage informs us that we’ll be joining the square nearest him.

His name is Bill, he’s wearing a Texas tuxedo, and he informs us that we’ll be joining the square near the front of the dance floor so he can keep an eye on us.

After he says that, he winks. If he had a mustache, I think he’d be a dead ringer for Sam Elliott.

“You better watch out,” I murmur to Seth as we walk onto the dance floor. “I bet Bill’s got moves.”

That gets a hand pressed to my lower back and a tingle up my spine.

“I didn’t bring you here so you could do-si-do with someone else,” Seth teases me.

“Did you bring me so you could steal cider secrets?” I ask, innocently.

“I brought you here because I’ve never tried square dancing and, to be excruciatingly honest, it sounds fun,” he says. “There you have it. You’re here for a fun date. That’s all.”

“Sorry,” I say, laughing.

Turns out the square in square dancing is four couples who stand facing each other in — you guessed it — a square. Our square is us, one other first-time couple, and then two middle-aged couples who might the most pleasant and patient people I’ve met in my entire life.

“All right,” Bill’s voice announces, a few minutes later. “Welcome to beginner square dancin’ night! Now I know most of y’all haven’t done this before, so we’re gonna start you off real easy with a square through — curlicue — fan the top to a half tag — trade — scoot back — relay the deucey!”

Stunned silence reigns for a few seconds before about half the people there start laughing.

“I’m just pullin’ yer leg,” Bill says, and this time he waves to the still-chuckling musicians behind him, and they start playing a fiddle and a banjo.

Seth and I exchange an I guess this is square dancing humor look.

“Now,” says Bill. “The person you brought is your partner, and the person to your other side is your corner. To start things off, you’re gonna bow to your partner, bow to your corner, and then join hands and walk in a circle.”

Right away, I step on Seth’s foot.The square dancing lasts for two hours. Bill gives us a thirty-minute break in the middle, so we get hard cider from the bar at the end of the barn and then sit on hay bales, drinking and laughing and talking with the other couples there.

Seth seems to know at least half the people in attendance. He even gets their names right and does things like ask how grandchildren and dogs are doing. How kitchen remodels are going. Whether they bought that new truck they were thinking about.

The whole time, I can’t help but think: no wonder he’s so popular with women. I knew he was charming, but until Ava’s wedding it had been years since we were together in public, so I never really saw it in action.

The second round is harder than the first, because I guess easy mode is over. Afterward, I’m sticky and sweaty, holding my hair off my neck, pretending that I’m not breathing as hard as I am.

Seth, on the other hand, is grinning at me, both of his hands on his hips. He’s also slightly sweaty — it’s hot in here — the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled right above the elbow, his hair slightly askew in that rumpled, unguarded way.

I keep looking at his forearms, because Seth has nice hands and really nice forearms: muscular and solid, distracting whenever he clenches his hands. I can see the veins, but they’re not weird. Just… hot.

“So, you gonna be buying rhinestone cowboy boots and joining the circuit?” he asks.

“No to the second, but maybe to the first,” I say, and look down at my shoes. “I think they’d look good on me. Maybe we can get matching pairs.”

He gives me a quick up-and-down look. I hope the sweat between my boobs hasn’t visibly soaked through my dress.

“Matching cowboy boots seems like a third date discussion, Bird,” he teases. “I thought we were taking it slow?”