His mouth went dry.
Miranda did an abrupt about face. “I’ll take my own car.”
“Don’t wait up,” Norah murmured. As the door shut behind his cousin, she said, “When I make up my mind about something, I’m all in.” When he said nothing, the smiled dimmed a fraction. “Is this okay? It seemed more practical than getting up an hour earlier than the crack of dawn to come back over here for clothes before our work day tomorrow.”
He gripped her hips, already imagining the feel of bare skin. “God bless your practical soul.”
She blocked his mouth with two fingers. “Oh no. If you get that mouth on me, we won’t make it to the dance.”
“I fail to see the problem with this plan.”
“You promised me crepe paper streamers and construction paper hearts. I expect you to deliver.”
Cam sucked in a long breath and worked on chaining down his roaring libido. “So I did.”
“Besides—” She scraped one nail lightly down the column of his throat to trace his collarbone. “—there’s something to be said for anticipation.”
“Yeah, it just might kill me.” He opened the front door. “Get in the truck, woman, before I go all caveman and throw you over my shoulder.”
“Promises promises.”
With a considerable show of self restraint, Cam drove to the community center rather than back to his place. He had himself under control—mostly—and was calculating how long it would take to give her the classic high school dance experience before he moved her along to their private after party, when the sound of raised voices spilled out along with music from the open door.
“What on earth?” Norah asked.
Cam quickened his pace. The last thing they needed was some kind of fight breaking out.
“Now Jim, nobody wants any ugliness.” Mamie Landen, who sported a lemon yellow hairdo tall enough to commune with God on its own, had both hands fisted on her generous hips.
Jim Vernon, one of Vick’s cronies, stood before the ticket table, red-faced and sputtering, while his wife looked on with pinched lips. “It ain’t right.”
“What’s the trouble here?” Cam asked.
“They’ve gone and doubled the cover in the name of a ‘fund raiser.’” Jim actually used air quotes.
Cam looked to Mamie for explanation.
“The dance committee decided to use this as an opportunity for an additional fundraiser for the coalition. Half the proceeds go toward the cost of the party, the other half to the downtown revitalization project.” She turned a glare on Jim. “It’s a good cause.”
It was also the first Cam was hearing of it. A quick glance at Norah said she’d been unaware of the plan as well. He slipped out his wallet and offered Mamie a smile. “Two please.”
“That’ll be forty dollars.”
Cam slid out two twenties and passed them over. “A small price to pay for a good cause and a night out with my best girl. There’s nothin’ like dancing cheek to cheek with your sweetheart with the lights down low and good music playin’, don’t you think, Jim?”
Plainly Jim didn’t agree, but his wife Irene turned that pinched expression on him, arms crossed.
“We oughta be able to choose whether or not to donate.”
“That wouldn’t make for a very effective fundraiser. Nobody’s making you pay anything. You’re welcome to turn right back around and leave. But if you expect to see your favorite fried chicken any time in the next decade, you’ll quit being a cheapskate and bring your wife in to enjoy the party.”
Evidently realizing the wisdom of this advice, Jim stopped arguing and pulled out his wallet.
“We appreciate your community spirit. Y’all have a good time.” Crisis averted, Cam took Norah’s hand and tugged her toward the gym.
“I wonder how many people have had that reaction?”
They stepped inside to find a packed dance floor and at least a hundred people crowded around the tables. “Not that many.”