Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“You know how to use your legs.”
She finally does smile, this time a closed-mouth thing that makes me think she’s holding back laughter. “That sounded wrong.”
“Only because you’re a pervert.”
“You’re the one who said the pervy thing.”
“You’re the one who pointed it out!”
I don’t realize I’m smiling until Mollie says, “Aha. Maybe you are still fun.”
You don’t know how fun I can be, sweetheart. You want me to teach you how to use those legs? Let me get between ’em, and I’ll show you exactly how it’s done.
“You okay?”
I blink at the sound of Mollie’s voice. “What? Yeah. Why?”
“You just got this look on your face. Like you wanted to punch someone.”
Fuck someone, more like it.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Roddy staring us down. The second I let this girl go, he’s gonna make his move. We don’t get many visitors here in Hartsville, so you gotta act fast if you want to stake your claim on someone new.
Ain’t happening tonight for Roddy. Or ever.
The chorus rises. I try to focus on anything but the beautiful woman in my arms, the one who’s picked up the two-step in less than a minute. Fast learner, I guess. Good for her.
Bad for me.
I think about all the times I listened to this song in my truck with Garrett. “Neon Moon” is a classic country song, the kind where the guy loses the girl and goes to a bar to drown his regret in whiskey.
Listening to it, Garrett would get quiet, rolling down the window to let his arm hang out the side of the truck. Sometimes, he’d sing the lyrics. Other times, he’d just stare out the window, lost in his thoughts.
I know he was thinking about Aubrey, his ex-wife. I’m sure he was thinking about Mollie too. I’m surprised she believes her dad didn’t think or talk about her.
Then again, Garrett rarely left the ranch. Yeah, he was busy looking after my brothers and me. But we could’ve held our own if he went to see his daughter back in Dallas.
I called him out on this, of course.
But Garrett would just wave me away. “It’s complicated. Mollie needed to live with her mama. They don’t want me around.”
“A kid always wants her parents around,” I replied. “Trust me on that.”
But Garrett and I agreed to disagree on that point. You can lead a horse to water, but you sure as hell can’t make him drink.
Looking down at Mollie, I wonder why she didn’t push Garrett more. Maybe she did. I only know one side of this story. And maybe, after putting in so much effort without any reward, she just stopped trying.
She’s comfortable enough with the steps that she’s singing now, lost in the song.
She’s also swaying her hips, getting a little saucy on the turns as I lead us across the dance floor. I hadn’t realized there’d been a permanent divot between her eyebrows until now, when the skin there is smooth.
Relaxed.
It’s like she’s finally let loose. Her lips are curled into a smile, the long waves of her hair moving over her shoulders as she turns her head in time to the beat.
She catches me watching her. Instead of calling me out, she smiles harder, bigger, the kind of smile that touches her eyes.
There’s a sudden, sharp drop in my chest. Goddamn, the joy I see in her face—it’s infectious.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m lifting my arm and twirling her around. She laughs, the sound loud and real, so I twirl her again, and again.
On the third twirl, she slows the pace, spinning slowly while she pops her cute little ass in time to the beat. Someone hollers. I look up and see it’s Patsy, smiling down at us from the stage as she pounds on the drums.
Mollie holds up a hand, wiggling her fingers at Patsy. Then she lets me pull her back into my arms. The way we move now, it’s easier, more fluid. Mollie doesn’t look at our feet and instead looks up at me, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.
I wanna bite that lip.
The song ends. Everyone goes wild, like they usually do. But unlike usual—Sally loves to talk to the crowd between songs—Frisky Whiskey dives right into another song.
Another slow song.
It’s like they know I’m about to pop a woody dancing with my new boss, and they wanna push me right over the fucking edge.
Roddy drinks his beer in a far corner, waiting for his chance to pounce.
I look down at Mollie and see she’s still looking up at me. My heart dips at the question I see in her eyes. She really wanna dance with me again?
Hell yeah, she does. Apparently, I still got it, despite not having danced for, wow, how long has it been now?
I step forward, starting the dance all over again, and this time Mollie moves right into the two-step without hesitating.