Page 46 of Sterling Clay

“You made it.” Relief washes through his words. He didn’t think I’d come. I wasn’t certain I would either, but here I am. And he’s looking at me like I hung the stars.

Quickly, he steps up to me, rubs my arm and leans in to kiss my cheek. I’m startled by the sudden rush of affection, but I don’t flinch away. Clay is a physical man and holding back his desire to touch must be difficult for him. I appreciate that earlier he wanted to understand and respect my boundaries. He wanted to know what he could do to make me comfortable.

Embarrassment lingers over the way I asked him to kiss me. Still, that kiss. I felt it from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes. And for a few blissful minutes, I forgot everything. Wesley. My parents. Florida. The past didn’t matter.

Clay’s hand slides down my arm, distracting me, until he wraps his fingers around mine. Then, he seems to think better of the connection and releases my hand. With the warmth of his touch missing, I shiver under the fall, mountain air.

“Mavis, you met Knox earlier.” Clay points to his brother. “And this is his wife, Halle.”

Surprise hits me. If I recall correctly, her mother, Mrs. Reynolds, was praising Halle’s apparently now-ex shortly before she passed away over a year ago. It’s a reminder that a lot can change in twelve months.

“Nice to officially meet you.” I hold out a hand for Halle but Halle steps forward to hug me.

My, they are a friendly bunch.

“So great to finally meet you,” she says, pressing me back by the shoulders. “I’m sorry we were never properly introduced before.” When I lived across the street from her.

“Clay tells me you’ll be coming to our party next weekend.”

“I . . . I haven’t decided yet.” But I catch Knox watching me, and he winks like he already knows I’ll be there.

Love floats around this couple in a thick cloud, and my heart flutters. Could this happen for me one day? Would it be better than my previously misguided relationship?

“Shall we dance?” Clay asks, and I’m grateful for the distraction from my thoughts. He takes my hand again and tugs me toward the dance floor.

“How do you feel about two-stepping?”

I laugh. “I don’t exactly know how to do that kind of dancing.” I’d grown up on hard rock and heavy metal.

“Just follow my lead,” he prompts before spinning me to face him. Our hands are clasped together at waist height, and he keeps some space between us. Then, he’s guiding me to twirl away from him before tugging me back to his chest. He’s a fine teacher and I’m laughing my head off when I step on his foot a time or two. Clay isn’t fazed as he dips me left and right before pressing me away and pulling me back as the band covers Brad Paisley’s song “Wrapped Around”.

Breathless, I continue to giggle when the song ends, and another begins at a slower pace. Clay pulls me back to his chest, wrapping one arm around my lower back, keeping me close.

“Having fun?” The smile on his face fills his voice.

“I can’t remember the last time I did anything like this.” My returning smile conveys every emotion. I can’t recall the last time I was without Dutton, didn’t feel like a mom, and acted like a woman.

As Clay draws me closer to him, my heart gallops. I’m certain he can feel the rhythm pounding beneath my chest. He holds me in a way we fit, like we’ve been together for longer than a few weeks, and I don’t want to get caught up in how good it feels. To be held. To feel cherished. To want more.

He leans forward, dipping his nose near my ear. “You smell pretty.”

Such a simple statement, and yet I giggle like a schoolgirl. I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me.

“Honeysuckle?” He pauses. “Violets?”

“A combination of the two, I guess.” A floral concoction my grandmother once made and shared the recipe with me. Wearing it reminds me of her, with fond memories of being young and happy.

Clay inhales deeper along my neck and my skin pebbles.

“Ticklish?”

I hadn’t ever thought so but the way he runs the tip of his nose against the column of my throat, I suddenly am. And I want him to do it again. I want him to sniff and nibble at me everywhere.

The thought surprises me, but also doesn’t. Two years without tenderness has been a long drought and I yearn deep inside for the connection. The sensual touch of another. The intimacy of two bodies coming together.

Thankfully, the song about a girl not knowing what she does for the man singing ends, and the band breaks into “Boot Scootin’ Boogie” by Brooks & Dunn. The crowd goes crazy and those who exited the dance floor due to the slower beat return in large groups of giddy women and men with moves.

Clay is among those men who can dance as the line begins. He points out how he moves his feet so I can follow half a beat behind, but I’m a fast study and within seconds, I’m dancing like a pro. Clay tips his head back, laughing at the sky with a gleam in his eye as we rock forward and back, hopping here and there, and lasso the air. When the song eventually ends, we fall into one another, laughing once more.