Picket Fence Surprise

by Kris Fletcher

  He turned again and caught sight of Heather’s dress as she spun in a circle. His pulse picked up.

  Okay. So maybe he could be a bit happier.

  The wedding ceremony had gone off blessedly well. Cady had held tight to Millie’s hand and marched down the aisle, smiling and making only a couple of detours to get a kiss from assorted grandparents. She had been delivered to him as rehearsed and watched the ceremony while standing on his knee in the front row. Between the goldfish crackers and her blankie, he’d kept her happy until the service ended and Darcy scooped her up to join her and Ian as they exited the church.

  Leaving him alone.

  He had stood and watched them go, making sure he smiled because he didn’t want anyone to think he wasn’t happy for them. Then he had turned and spotted Heather. Who had waved and offered him a discreet thumbs-up, like she knew what he was thinking, before shimmying her shoulders along with the organ music, right there in her pew. He would have burst out laughing if Ian’s grandma Moxie hadn’t leveled a finger in his direction like he was a misbehaving schoolboy.

  Then the crowd had parted and he caught sight of Heather’s dress, and for a moment he felt like he’d got religion.

  It was a good thing she’d turned away from him at that point. Some things should only be seen in short bursts, with rests between to let the brain catch up with the body.

  And oh, was his body ready to leap ahead.

  Now he strutted across the dance floor and held Cady close—both so he could entertain her and so his arms were kept occupied. He had a feeling that if he were to find himself solo, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from dancing with Heather. And once he got her in his arms, he didn’t think he could be held responsible for the consequences.

  Nope. Definitely safer to dance with his kid.

  So he bopped and Chicken Danced. He taught Cady the Cupid Shuffle and dipped her up and down while doing the Electric Slide. But no matter how much he tried to focus, his senses insisted on staying tuned to the movement of a dress that made him think of a glass of freshly poured sangria.

  “Dada!” Cady smacked her hand on his shoulder. Crap. He’d been in la-la land again.

  “What?”

  “Mommy. Me want Mommy.”

  He surveyed the room. Darcy was talking with some guests.

  “Mommy’s busy, kiddo. Want some juice?”

  Her face crumpled. “No juice. Mommy.”

  He knew that tone. It was the one that came right after I’ve had the best day ever and right before And now I’m going to fall apart from exhaustion. It seemed the party was over, at least for him.

  He risked another look, this time toward the dance floor. At a wine-colored dress and hips that swayed to the music and a face that was flushed with laughter and exertion and promise.

  Yeah. He should definitely leave while he could.

  Except Darcy chose that moment to turn for a Cady check. Cady caught her mother’s glance and lunged forward in his arms.

  Darcy blew a kiss.

  Cady’s face puckered.

  Darcy whispered something to Ian, who nodded and squeezed her shoulder.

  “Mama!” Cady wriggled pathetically in his arms. He knew it was because she was tired and overwhelmed, knew in his head that all kids wanted their moms and no one else when the chips were down, but he still wished that she wouldn’t be...well...quite so obvious about it.

  “Hey, baby.” Darcy had set a record for zipping through the tables to reach them. “Do you need a snuggle?”

  Cady stuck her thumb in her mouth, rested her head on Darcy’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

  “Give us a few minutes,” Darcy said as low as was possible given the volume of the music. “I think she’ll be fine once you get her out of here, but it’s been a big day. She probably needs to refuel.” She kissed the top of Cady’s head. “And since this is the last time for a few days...”

  “Absolutely.” He couldn’t blame Darcy for needing Cady as much as Cady needed her.

  “I’ll go rescue Ian. Why don’t you gather up her stuff and meet me over by the door in about ten minutes?”

  He fluttered his fingers over the soft wisps of hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

  But no sooner had Darcy moved away with Cady than there was a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Heather standing in front of him, shoulders swaying slightly, and something in her eyes that he had never seen before.

  Something that had him wondering how to make ten minutes last a couple of hours.

  “I need your help,” she announced.

  “With what?” A stuck zipper, maybe? He could get into that.

  Not that he would. But he sure as hell could.

  “The DJ is going to play the song I requested.” She waved in the direction of the dance floor. “Millie is with her dad, and I have no one to dance with.”

  She held her hand out to him.

  Like he was supposed to resist?

  “How can I say no to this?” He gestured from the top of her bouncy hair to the toes peeking out of her shoes.

  “You can’t.” She leaned closer, grabbed his hand and tugged. He lurched forward and landed in front of her with only a breath and some public decency between them.

  “Jesus, Heather.” It took all his strength to keep from closing that gap. “Don’t hold back.”

  He hadn’t thought it possible, but she leaned in closer. “Xander?”

  “Yeah?”

  She tipped her head. “Shut up and dance.”

  She took his arm and pulled him to the floor, her hips and shoulders and feet already moving to the beat. He had a flash of regret that she’d requested a fast song instead of something that would give him the chance to hold her.

  But this way—ah, this way he could see her. He could watch every ripple of her body as she shimmied and sang. He could slide a hand around her waist and tug her close before sending her out in a spin of fluttering skirt and rippling laugh. He could wriggle his shoulders in time to the music and see her repeat the motion.

  And he could spin away before she could read the questions that he feared were written all over his face.

  Except that when he turned, when he stopped seeing her in his mind and started seeing what was around him, he spotted Cady on the floor dancing with Millie. Neither of them had an ounce of rhythm, but they were so adorable, bopping along in their own tempo, that he twirled back to Heather and pointed to them.

  She adjusted her movements to focus on the girls. Broke out into a major grin.

  Then her face shifted into something that could only be called dread mode.

  He followed her gaze.

  Oh great.

  Millie was holding her glasses in one hand and rubbing her hip with the other, all while squatting to talk to Cady, who sat in a heap on the floor. Cady’s dress pouffed around her and her face was scrunched in what he was pretty sure was building toward the world’s most epic wail.

  Core meltdown in 3...2...

  He ducked between two oversize behinds, scooped Cady off the floor and twirled her fast. As he’d hoped, her imminent cry morphed into giggles of delight.

  Millie, though, was another story, at least judging by the redness in her eyes.

  “Someone bumped into me,” she said in a trembling voice. “And I bumped into Cady, and I knocked her down and I thought she was going to cry and—”

  He didn’t need to hear anything more. Instead, he grabbed Millie’s hand and tugged her between the gyrating butts to where Heather waited, her face a mix of trepidation and understanding.

  “Are you—” she began, but he caught her eye and shook his head. He might not know Millie as well as Heather did, but he was pretty sure that in this case, distraction was the better choice.

 
“Shut up and dance,” he sang along with the song, bouncing Cady in one arm while reaching for Millie’s hand. Millie bit down on her lip and glanced up at Heather, who nodded toward him. A shy grin broke across Millie’s face, and she slipped her palm into his. Heather grabbed Millie’s other hand, then took hold of Cady’s elbow to close the circle. The four of them bounced and swayed to the music, shouting out the lyrics, giggling and bopping and bumping into each other.

  Almost like a family.

  * * *

  HEATHER PULLED UP in front of Xander’s house about a half hour after he and Cady left the reception, killed her lights and fished her phone out of her purse with hands that were a lot steadier than she would have expected, given the fact that her stomach was doing jumping jacks. Though maybe that was anticipation. Hard to be certain. Her last few “first times” had all been with guys she had worked with and had happened on her final nights in town before she headed out to her next transfer. She had never had to worry about the long-term implications because seriously, the most that could have happened would have been that they ended up in the same office again down the road. Which had happened once, but by then he was happily married and just as eager as she was to pretend that they’d never left the friend zone.

  That wasn’t an option this time around.

  But she liked Xander. A lot. Even more after his quick thinking had saved Millie from possible embarrassment.

  And as Travis had said, she did have a tiny habit of anticipating the worst. When, in fact, most things turned out just fine. At least recently.

  As for Xander looking for something long term and serious, while she most definitely was not... Okay. That was still a bit troubling. But if he wasn’t letting that stand in his way, then really, should she be so freaked by it? After all, if she had been able to make peace with Hank, whom she had hurt worse than anyone in the world besides Millie—well, surely she could find a way to make sure that whatever might happen with her and Xander wouldn’t end up awkward and messy.

  But if she was going to make a move, she needed to do it soon, because one of his lights had just flicked off.

  Hey, she texted. We never got to finish our dance.

  He hadn’t pulled the drapes in his living room, so she knew the moment her message arrived by the way he emerged from the back of the house to grab his phone off the coffee table. She watched him sink onto his sofa in classic texting pose: head bent, elbows on knees, hands on phone. Most people looked scrunched up when they sat like that, but Xander was tall enough to make it look almost—graceful? No. Wrong word.

  Languid. That was it. He was all loose and unhurried and relaxed.

  She would have to do something about that.

  Her phone beeped.

  I was just thinking about that. Bummer. Next wedding?

  This was it.

  She did a quick scan for potential regrets and found nothing that was serious enough to stop her. There were, however, a whole lot of whispers of potential hot damn and hallelujah.

  How about now?

  Unaware of her shameless semistalkerdom, Xander sat up straighter on his sofa. Now?

  Cady’s asleep, right? And you’re still awake, aren’t you?

  A small giggle escaped as she sent the message. Could she remember the last time she teased a guy this way, the last time she had flirted and encouraged and played the game?

  Whenever it was, it was a long time ago. But the good news was she most definitely hadn’t forgotten the rules.

  Yeah. Wide awake. More so by the minute.

  She knew the feeling.

  Well, then, she tapped, you wanna dance? Because I just happen to be parked outside your place.

  Over in the living room, Xander’s head snapped up. She couldn’t make out his expression, but she was pretty sure that languid had gone out the window.

  He stood, skirted the table and moved to the window. She flashed her lights. He raised a hand before bending over his phone. A second later, her phone beeped.

  Come on in.

  She shoved her phone into her clutch and scrambled out of the car, heels tapping on the ground in perfect counterpoint to the pounding of her heart.

  He opened the door and stepped out to meet her, still in the dress pants and pale blue shirt he’d worn to the wedding. His sleeves were rolled up and his tie hung loose around his neck, and he was such a mix of relaxed and buttoned up that he reminded her of a goody bag at a party. There was something inside, something she was pretty sure was amazing, but first she had to unwrap it.

  Anticipation shivered through her.

  “Hi.” She stopped one step below him, head tipped back to take him in.

  “So you want to finish the dance.”

  She swallowed. “Very much.”

  “Is that all you were hoping for, Heather?”

  She raised her palm to rest against his chest, one questioning touch.

  He didn’t move away.

  “Actually,” she whispered, “dancing isn’t high on my list right now.”

  His hand settled over hers, his long fingers slipping through and tangling with hers.

  “I’m really glad to hear that.”

  He stepped back, tugging her into the house. Not that it took much to convince her to follow him.

  He reached past her to close the door, hovering near and above her but not quite touching. She leaned back against the wood, both to make it easier to look up at him and because her knees couldn’t decide if they wanted to lock or buckle.

  “What kind of dances do you like, Heather?” His gaze swept over her, his face shadowed in the dim light of the hall. It didn’t matter. She could read him in the catch of his breath, in the way he swayed closer only to pull back as if reminding himself to make this last. Which was all well and good, but for every voice reminding her to savor the moment, there were about fourteen others chanting out some variation on Naked NOW.

  Dancing. Right.

  “All kinds. Depends on the night.”

  “What kind of night is it now?”

  Oh, she wanted this. She wanted him, God yes, but mostly she wanted this back and forth, this feeling of being the complete and utter center of someone’s world for as long as it lasted.

  To hell with satellites. Tonight, she was going to be the one making the planet spin.

  “I think,” she said, reveling in the huskiness of her voice, “I’d like something with a beat. A samba, maybe.”

  “Don’t know if I’ve ever done a samba.” One long finger traced the neckline of her dress, slow and steady, lingering ever so slightly at the dip above her breasts before venturing back up. “But rumor has it I’m a fast learner.”

  “You seemed pretty quick on your feet tonight.”

  “Ah, but I think that was mostly because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “Come on, Heather. Don’t you know that everything is easier when you have the right partner?”

  Yes.

  “Well, then, Mr. Sorenson.” She took hold of his tie and reeled him in. “How about showing me your moves?”

  His lips brushed hers, light and teasing, barely more than a breath against her skin. She arched up, but he was gone already, backing away, one finger hooked into her neckline so she had no choice but to follow him unless she wanted him to rip her dress right off her.

  Okay, she kind of did.

  He led her deeper into the room, giving her a wink as he closed the curtains. She took advantage of the moment to toss her clutch onto the sofa. A horrible waste of a horizontal surface, really, but on the other hand, it meant that the bag—containing the oh-so-vital purchase she’d made on her way over—would be easy to find when the proper moment arose.

  His laptop lay open on the coffee table. “Hang on,” he said, un
hooking his finger from her dress and bending over the keyboard. A moment later, music filled the room—the same tune she had requested at the reception. He straightened and held out a hand.

  Apparently he was taking her at her word.

  Okay. She had inhaled Dirty Dancing a few hundred times. She could do this. Sure, it felt a bit less natural when they were alone in his living room, but—

  He laced his fingers through hers and moved in close, hips rocking in perfect time to the beat she had wanted.

  “Stage fright?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Second thoughts?”

  Only about asking for a fast dance when she wanted to be pressed up against him. “Not a one,” she said, shimmying in closer, singing and swaying, following his lead as he steered her around the furniture and into a slightly more open area, and all of a sudden the awkwardness was gone. The lights were low, the music pounded and every part of her was prickling and yearning and yielding.

  And this, folks, was just the beginning.

  Her flow was broken by an unexpected sideways shift. An unidentifiable purple plastic toy slid across the floor, propelled by his quick kick.

  “Sorry,” he said with a grin. “Didn’t want you to trip over it.”

  “Aren’t you the considerate host?”

  He lifted their joined hands in the air. “Just making sure that when you fall against me, it’s because you want to.”

  She stopped moving, met his gaze and carefully, deliberately tilted against him, arms sliding to his shoulders, breasts crushed against his chest.

  “Oops,” she said.

  The hand at her waist tightened. His other hand slid lower, settling on her butt and pulling her in flush against him, tight and hot and hungry. He stared down at her, eyes wide in the darkened room.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep myself from holding you tonight?”

  Given what she felt pressing against her, she had a fine clue.

  “There’s nothing stopping you now.”

  “Good answer.” A slight smile curved his lips, only to fade a moment later. His hands closed over her shoulders and slowly, gently pushed her away.