“I’ve been to plenty of dances but never a real country dance. I’ve always lived in Atlanta. My mother loves the city and honestly could do without the country life. My grandparents live outside of Atlanta, though, and that’s where I learned to ride and shoot. I loved it there. They had church dances all the time, but trying to get a boy to ask you to dance at church was like pulling teeth.”
Brock chuckled. “Speaking of, you ready to get out of here and head on over?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along with you?” I asked, reaching for my purse to help pay for dinner.
“I don’t mind at all, and I’ve got dinner.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Sliding out of the chair, I flashed him a wide grin. “Thank you for dinner, then. It was good.”
“You’re welcome.”
As we went to leave, Brock reached down for my hand, causing an instant rush of electricity to race through my body. I was hoping like hell the small gasp I’d made wasn’t loud enough for him to hear.
From a nearby table, six women watched us as we walked by. Brock must have realized he was holding my hand when he noticed them staring, because he dropped it and then stepped to the side for me to walk ahead of him. I didn’t want to admit it hurt a little that he cared about what they thought.
One quick peek in their direction showed they were all glaring at me like I had just stolen something precious from each of them.
I had a feeling I was going to get a lot more looks like that when I walked into this dance with Brock Shaw.
This was going to be a long and interesting night.
Chapter Twelve
LINCOLN
The dance was held in a giant barn that was owned by Brad and Kimberley Littlewood, Dirk’s parents. From the way they both pulled Brock into a hug, it was clear he was like family to them, which made sense, since Dirk was his best friend.
“And who is this beautiful young lady?” Kimberley asked, hope filling her voice and her eyes.
“This is Lincoln Pratt. She bought the old homestead at my folks’ place.”
I looked at Brock, wondering why he hadn’t just called it his old place.
“She’s becoming a fast friend of Blayze’s,” Brock added.
My smile faltered. I had been hoping I was becoming his friend as well.
“Just Blayze’s?” Brad asked, shaking my hand.
“Well, the whole family. She’s a friend of the family.”
’Cause that made it better. That kiss was seeming more and more like a fluke.
Brad frowned at Brock and then turned to me, flashing me a big old country smile as he tried to downplay the instant awkwardness that filled the air. “Lincoln, it’s a pleasure meeting you. How long have you been in town?”
“Not too long—a little over a week and a half.”
“Do you like Hamilton?” Kimberley asked.
“Yes, I love it,” I answered honestly.
“Well, we’re glad to have you here. Is Brock treating you well?” Kimberley asked, again with a little bit of hope in her eyes.
“Um, well, yes. He’s been very kind to me. His whole family has.”
Brock pulled a lengthy drink from his longneck beer. He looked nervous, like he suddenly didn’t want to be here. If he thought he had to babysit me, he could get that out of his mind right quick.
“Would you be able to point me to the restroom?” I asked, looking at Kimberley.
“Of course! Down that path right there will lead you to the house. Just go on in, and it’s the first door to your right. We have an outhouse, but we won’t subject you to that.”
I chuckled. “Thank you! I think baby steps for the full-on country life is the way for me to go.”
Brad tossed his head back and laughed.
When I turned to leave, Brock was looking out over the dance floor.
“You should find yourself a cowgirl and dance.”
His head snapped to look down at me. “What?”
Motioning to the dance floor, I repeated myself. “I said, you should find someone to dance with. You look like you’re ready to jump out of your skin. You don’t need to babysit me. I can take care of myself.”
His brows pulled in tight. “I came with you.”
I plastered on a fake smile. “Well, not as a date. I mean, I’m a family friend. Right?”
Brock didn’t say anything as he rubbed the back of his neck, at least having the decency to look embarrassed for his earlier conversation.
“Excuse me,” I said as I turned and quickly headed toward the house.
I needed a few minutes to rein in the emotions that were running through me. This was crazy—this stupid crush I was developing on Brock. So what that he’d kissed me? It had just been in the heat of the moment; that was all.