“Sure,” she said, finally breaking their connection and looking out her window instead of at him. “I was engaged once.”
He wanted to know more about that, and he squeezed her hand to indicate as much.
“You were married,” she said instead.
“Yes,” he said. “Her name was Katie. We were together five years. Been divorced for eight now.”
Olli nodded, the mood all over the place and they hadn’t even made it to Six Stars yet. The restaurant-slash-dance-hall wouldn’t be terribly crowded on a Monday night, but it was always noisy. He second-guessed his choice for dinner, because they needed time to talk. He’d wanted to take her dancing though, because he knew if he did, he’d be able to hold her in his arms.
“I was engaged to a man named Hazard. Well, his real name was Sherman, but everyone called him Hazard.” She delivered an audible sigh. “I should’ve known from just the name that he’d be trouble for me.”
“You never did get married?”
“He called it off the morning before our wedding day.”
Spur whistled in a way that conveyed his disbelief and disgust. “Olli, I’m sorry.”
“I wish I could whistle like that,” she said.
Spur made the final turn and Six Stars appeared up ahead. “You can’t whistle?”
She puckered her lips and pushed air through them, barely making any sound at all. “Does that count?” She grinned at him with plenty of that sparkle, and Spur laughed for the third time in the short twenty-minute drive.
“No, ma’am,” he said. “That does not count. That’s really the best you can do?”
“Some of us aren’t perfect at everything,” she teased, and Spur shook his head. He wasn’t either, that was for sure.
“Can you at least dance?” he asked, finding and taking a parking space in the main lot. Six Stars had two overflow lots, but his prediction about the Monday night crowd was right. He’d attended the dancehall on the weekend before, and every spot would be filled then.
“Of course I can dance, Mister,” she said. “I took lessons from old Ingrid herself.”
“Stay,” he said, killing the engine and hopping out of the cab. He hurried around to her side and opened the door for her.
“I’m not a dog, you know,” she said, grinning at him as she slid out of his truck. Her skirt hitched higher on her legs, and Olli quickly pulled it down once she’d landed on her feet. She wore a bright blue pair of heels Spur hadn’t noticed at the house, but now that he’d seen them, he couldn’t look away. “You like my shoes?” she asked, cocking one ankle.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice coming out dry and rusted. He looked at her, a heated charge flowing between them. She had to feel that. He couldn’t be the only one getting scorched right now. “I like them. Very sexy.”
Olli’s face split into a smile, and Spur reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. Time froze for a moment, and thankfully, Spur’s thoughts did too. Then, everything rushed forward again, and he was left wondering how much truth that simple gesture had told her.
She stepped out of the doorway and linked her arm through his. “You know what, Spur? No one’s called me sexy for a while, and I think you just earned yourself a lot of bonus points.”
“Is that right?” He closed the door quickly, and they started toward the restaurant’s entrance. “What can a man do with his bonus points?”
Olli tipped her head back and laughed, the sound spilling into the sky and striking Spur right in the heart. “Nothing, silly. They’re not even real.” She grinned up at him, and Spur couldn’t help grinning right on back down.
“Fine,” he said. “But you shouldn’t give points if they don’t mean anything.” He opened the door for her, sure he’d mess something up in the next couple of weeks, and it would be nice if he could use some of his accumulated bonus points to get back in her good graces. He determined he’d simply use them anyway, because he knew Olli well enough to know she’d like that game.
“Oh,” Olli said, releasing his arm and clapping her hands a couple of times. She looked at him, pure delight brightening her whole face. “It’s waltz night. I love the waltz.”
“Perfect,” Spur said, holding up two fingers for the hostess. He stepped closer to her and said, “Somewhere a little quieter for dinner, if you can.”
“Sure,” she drawled with a smile. As she led them past the dance floor, Spur had never been more grateful for his mother and her insane drive to teach all eight of her boys how to dance—including the waltz.