He slid the tray of saltshakers away and reached for her hand. A warm blush teased her cheeks as she let him pull her from the booth.
They fell into a sloppy cha-cha. As he spun her, she laughed and whirled into his arms, closer than expected and her feet lost their rhythm. Arching back, she gazed into his eyes, held frozen by the silent promise of a kiss she knew she only had a mere second to avoid. But her body seemed paralyzed, unsure if this was right or wrong, she couldn’t find the will to object.
“You always smell so good, like summer when I was a kid.”
“It’s my honeysuckle body wash. I get it from the bath and body place in the mall.”
“I like it. Did you know there are one hundred and eighty different types of honeysuckle in the world? They’re grown to attract other species like hummingbirds and butterflies—and co-workers,” he teased.
Her breath hitched as Kyle’s head lowered, his lips nearing her pulse and pressing softly to her neck as the final repetition of the lyric “and then he kissed me” echoed through the empty bar.
It was ... magic—or so it should have been. This, more than her presence of willpower, seemed the main reason why they hadn’t slept together yet. No matter how much she liked flirting with Kyle, his kisses always left her cold. She shouldered him away, trying to appear more playful than rude.
Her lashes lifted as awkwardness awakened inside of her. He had to feel the lack of chemestry too. Right? Or were men so different that any warm body would do?
The underwhelming reality had her fidgeting uncomfortably. “I’ve gotta finish the tables.”
“What’s the rush?”
Maybe she’d watched too many chick flicks and her expectations had reached unrealistic, Hollywood heights. She should try to keep an open mind. “No rush.”
“Do you want to hang out after we lock up?”
It would be close to three in the morning by the time they finished cleaning up. “I have a big test this week.”
“Oh, I forgot. Finals are coming up.”
Yes, and she couldn’t afford to screw up this close to the finish line. “Yeah.” But at least he remembered. once she reminded him. The quiet made her antsy. “Play another song.”
“I’m out of quarters.”
It was amazing that anyone still used quarters in this day and age. She checked her apron. “Next one’s on me.”
She crossed the empty floor and flipped through the selection, her perusal stopping at the Red Album. Her quarter dropped through the slot and she punched in the numbers for Eleanor Rigby, wondering if the Beatles ever figured out the fate of all the lonely people after all.
It probably wasn’t the best choice, because by the time she restocked the salt she was surely convinced she’d been sentenced to a life of loneliness.
“You know what?”
Kyle killed the lights behind the bar and met her stare in question.
She sucked at making the first move and wished she’d taken him up on his earlier offer. “I can’t hang out all night, but I could probably watch a movie.”
His grin was slow but enough to calm her nerves. “Let me get my keys.”
She untied her apron. It had been a long time since she considered dating, but now with school ending the time seemed right. Maybe this was one of those cosmic timing things to help her find her zen. She’d be the luckiest woman in the world if she believed in that hoo-hah.
“Ready?” he asked, hoisting the last bag of trash over his shoulder to drop in the dumpster on the way out.
“Yep. Just remember, I can’t stay all night.”
“’Cause you gotta study. I know.”
“Right.”
“I promise I’ll kick you out before the closing credits.”
She laughed. “Deal.”
There wasn’t a flutter of butterflies or any melting sensation, but rather a sort of gratitude that she wouldn’t be going directly home to an empty apartment. She hadn’t realized how much the loneliness had been getting to her until Kyle took a bit of it away.
Chapter Seven
The metal grates hummed and Adam stared in amazement as a breeze of cool air blew toward his face. Fascinating. How did the mechanism work? Was ice somehow involved?
After several days of traveling by foot and bedding down in forest caves in the densely wooded Pennsylvania mountainsides, his journey forced him into the more populated areas where he found lodging at an establishment owned by a man named Howard Johnson. After a restless night of disorienting dreams, he awoke to the fading scent of honeysuckle, so strong he could almost believe she’d actually been there.
Removing the journal from his bag, he jotted down any details he could recall. Once again, he saw her vibrant hair, more rust than gold, more bronze than brown.
The women of the Order wore prayer kapps, simple white bonnets. He disliked the thought of covering such beauty, but also valued that no other male would see how much radiance she hid.