On the impromptu dance floor, Libby danced and laughed as she moved to the high-energy salsa music with Reagan’s dad, then her grandfather. By the time she was covered in sweat and wishing she’d worn a sleeveless dress made of lighter fabric, her feet were throbbing and her heart full.
“You’re a pretty good dancer,” Reagan decided when she cut in.
Reagan’s hand on the small of her sweaty back and other hand in hers came just as the music slowed to a ballad. Libby doubted it was a coincidence.
“You’re not too bad yourself. I saw you twirling your mom around,” she replied, before becoming self-conscious.
“Your family is okay with you dancing with me?” Libby didn’t dare look to the sides. She was having such a wonderful time she didn’t want it marred by a judgmental look or gossipy whisper.
Reagan’s response was to hold her a little closer. “We’re not doing anything obscene, Lib. I’d be closer if we were hugging.”
Libby tried to relax in her arms and sway to the slow, romantic music like everyone else packed in the small space.
She dared to look around and was surprised to find Reagan was right. Everyone was busy enjoying themselves. There were no reproachful eyes trained on them.
“This is the best date I’ve ever been on,” Libby confessed as she pressed her cheek against Reagan’s. As the sun dipped beyond the horizon and a breeze cooled her overheated skin, Libby wished they could stay with her family all night.
When the song changed to something faster, Reagan spun her in place. As she showed o her much more natural dancing abilities, Libby finally caught sight of someone staring. Reagan’s parents had stopped dancing to watch them. Inst
ead of o ense, her mother’s face was dressed up in something more akin to pride.
C H A P T E R 2 7
BACK IN THE SUV, Reagan tried to freshen up with a wet napkin, a little make-up, and her mom’s perfume. “I shouldn’t have danced so much,” she said as she stared at her messy reflection in the small visor mirror.
“It was so much fun, though,” Libby said as she glanced at herself in the rearview mirror.
Reagan raised her eyebrows. “That’s a significantly more carefree attitude than I expected.”
Chuckling, Libby shrugged. “Well, that’s because we’re still half an hour away from my grandma’s house. Let me live my joy.”
“Do you mind if I jump in the back? I really need to air this out. Cashmere was a terrible choice. I was thinking about your family’s Thanksgiving way more than I was thinking about mine.”
Reagan jumped between the two front seats and into the back the moment Libby nodded. “I should’ve brought a change of clothes,” she said as she pulled the sweater over her head.
Libby stole glances at her in the rearview with the subtlety of a dragon tearing through some ancient forest.
Reagan knew better than to torment her, but she couldn’t resist arching her back just enough to send her eyes darting
to the small, low-cut white bra. She yanked down her waistband a little, drawing her eyes toward her abdomen and down to her bellybutton. For a moment, Reagan wondered what Libby would do if she unbuttoned her trousers. If she peeled o her bra. Would she continuing watching, or would she pull over on the side of the highway and join her?
A car honked at the same time that Libby’s car alerted that she’d drifted into the next lane and came dangerously close to another car.
“Sorry. I’m sure this is not a classy look,” Reagan said as she straightened. “A definite dating rule no-no, but I think it’s worse to be all gross when I meet your family.”
Libby, her eyes trained on the road, shook her head. “I didn’t expect to dance like that.”
“They don’t dance at your house?” Reagan asked as she trained all the air vents on herself to speed up the drying process.
Libby’s response was a bark of laughter. “Definitely not.
Music is usually supplied by a small band. People listen and enjoy, but no one dances.”
“Oh, okay. Well, that’s cool too,” Reagan replied when she didn’t know what else to say.
“We only have to be there a couple of hours,” she promised, the carefree ease gone from her face and replaced with tension. “We can go back to your parents’ house after.”
Reagan leaned forward, resting her hand on Libby’s shoulder. “It’s going to be great. Don’t worry.”