Page 67 of The Worst Possible Plan

I heard a burst of laughter and looked back toward the petting zoo. Dottie had kicked off whatever tiny sense of dignity she’d ever possessed and was twirling barefoot through the pen while Bandit bounced around her in ridiculous little hops.

I laughed. I loved Dottie. She moved through life like someone who’d never once worried what another person thought of her. Something was wonderfully fearless about that.

And part of me wished I was more like her.

Then…

“Care to dance?”

I turned. Sheriff Walker stood beside me, his hands tucked into his jeans with sheriff face. A very lovely, lovely face. Although tonight, it seemed softer somehow.

“You dance?” I asked, my pulse picking up.

He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Occasionally.” Then he held out one hand. “Dance with me.”

My heart promptly forgot how hearts worked. It skipped, stumbled, and then started up again. And finally I said, “Sure. I’d like that.”

His hand closed gently around mine. It was warm and rough with calluses. A man who worked with his hands. Not the decorative kind of calluses you got from going to the gym twice and posting about it online. Real ones, the kind that came from real physical work.

Very sexy.

Snap out of it, Sophie.

He led me toward the edge of the dance floor. His fingers closed gently around mine, warm and steady, neither too tight nor too loose, as though he’d instinctively found the exact amount of pressure that said, “I’ve got you,” without actually saying it. When we stopped, his other hand settled lightly against the small of my back. My free hand rested against his shoulder, the soft cotton of his sheriff’s uniform still warm from the day, and I became acutely aware that the man was… solid.

The music eased us into a slow rhythm, and for one completely unreasonable second, I forgot several hundred people were standing only a few feet away. It was alarmingly easy to fall into step with him. Even more alarming was how naturally I fit there, like my body had somehow skipped the awkward introductory chapter.

We simply… fit.

“So,” I said, my mouth feeling suddenly dry like it was full of cotton balls.

“So,” he repeated.

“Where did you go? You disappeared for a while. Not that I noticed.” Good one.

His lips pulled into a short smile. “You were looking for me?”

“No.” Yes. Yes. Yes.

His eyes searched my face. “I was here. Just walking around. Checking. I never left.”

“Good to know.” I blew down the front of my top. “It’s hot tonight. Isn’t it?”

“Not especially.”

“Well I’m hot.”

He glanced at me. “You are.”

I felt my mouth drop open. “Huh. The festival isn’t a disaster.” Did he just say I was hot? Like hot as in sexy? Or hot as in he can smell the stress sweat?

One corner of his mouth lifted. “No. I don’t think anyone can accuse it of that.”

I gave a short laugh. “I’ve still got three hours left. Let’s not tempt fate.”

His hand pressed a little firmer against my back. “It turned out really well.”

I looked up. “You really think so?”