But the act of exchanging stories tonight connected her to Max in a way that being physical couldn’t. The interweaving of past tragedies left her heart raw, scarred from the weight of multiple losses.
And if she reached out again to touch him, would she be able to pull away? Or was it already too late just from that kiss, from being here tonight?
Because truth be told, she feared she might well have already set something in motion she didn’t know how to stop.
Five
Clicking her seat belt into place, she threw a glance at Max as he started the engine of the SUV. The luxurious leather seat creaked as she shifted her weight. Loose curls fell into her face as the familiar feelings of nervousness and desire pulsed in her blood. “You were serious about going parking?”
No taming the rampant thudding in her chest.
As he caught her eye, a smile formed on his lips. A devilish one at that. “If that’s what you want, we absolutely can. But you’ll have to tell me where the good spots are.”
He put the car in Reverse, his right arm went to her headrest so he could see as he backed out of the steak house parking lot. Musk and spice emanated from his sports jacket sleeve. A dizzying effect.
Looking shyly out her side window, she muttered, “How would I know? I’m new here.”
“Good point.” He winked, the SUV lurching into motion as they exited the parking lot. Silence passed for a moment as he got onto the main road, heading away from the safety and certainty of Cimarron Rose. Of her carefully constructed life and fortress against feeling. He took them north, the lights on the road scattering, allowing the open Texas sky to be punctuated with flickering heavenly bodies.
Clearing his throat, he added, “I actually took that into consideration and came up with a different plan that didn’t involve me asking my friend Chels where the great make-out spots are around here.”
She folded her arms across her chest, intrigued as hell. “Oh, you did? And what is your plan, then?”
He shrugged, eyes glued to the road. “I thought you might like to go dancing.”
Natalie’s shock took the form of a head tilt. “Dancing?” She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cut a rug. Years. It had to have been years. Perhaps her wedding...
She silenced the thought. Brought herself back to the present moment. To movement in sync with this man.
Turning his face to her, he flashed a smile and raised an eyebrow. “Dancing can be every bit as...connecting as making out.”
Her thoughts exactly. And didn’t the thought cause a rush of heat through her despite the perfectly moderated temperature in his expensive car?
“You’re really taking me dancing and not going to hit on me?” Based on the look in his eyes, Natalie didn’t quite buy that.
He shook his head and threw on the turn signal. “No, unless you tell me you prefer not to dance.”
She gripped his hard-muscled arm. “We can dance.”
“Are you sure? Do you want to go back to your place to make out...maybe get away from the crowd at a hotel? Because if you do, just say the word and I will make love to you well an
d long through the night. But I got the impression that wasn’t something you’re ready for.” He reached to squeeze her hand. A seriousness seemed to wash over his body, and she sat up straighter. “And I want you to be ready.”
Gulp.
Words jumbled in her throat as she attempted to formulate her next words. Her next sentence mattered. She needed to be as precise as possible. The pressure of having to know what she wanted made her ribs tight with tension and the weight of her decision.
Yes. She felt attracted to Max. His ease with words, compliments. That ready, lopsided smile that hinted at his mischievous side. And he was damn sexy with his tousled dark hair and bright, inquisitive eyes.
Losing Jeremy had left her raw. Giving herself away to Max would take time. Trust.
But dancing. She could manage that. Dancing could live in a box, be compartmentalized. “I believe dancing is the wise choice. Thank you.”
He turned up the heat in the SUV. “Wise. Hmm... Okay, we’ll be wise for tonight.”
After a few more minutes on the road, Max navigated the SUV into a spot in Jackson’s Honky-tonk. After he parked, Max opened her car door, offering a steadying hand as she stepped out into the graveled parking lot.
“This is not what I expected,” she said, looking at the building. Even from the car, she could hear the sounds of country music—big guitar melodies and the echo of twangy voices.