Page 68 of The Second Dance
I nod. “More or less what I was thinking. My parents didn’t really mix with the ‘right’ people.”
“My mom didn’t either.” He laughs, a short, bitter sound. “First time I ever came to this was to help my mom in the kitchen. She worked for the caterer.”
“So did Whit.”
His expression clouds a bit, but he nods. “Uh-oh. Look out. Entitled rich kid at six o’clock.”
I turn to see Tyson Kyle cutting a direct path towards me. “What could he possibly want?”
“A dance, I’d imagine.”
I pull a face. “Please, no.”
“You need rescuing?”
I glance at him, grinning. “If you’re offering.”
He tucks my hand around his elbow and salutes Tyson as we sail past.
Taking me to the center of the dance floor, he slips his arm around my back and takes my free hand in his. He guides me around the floor in a country two-step. I don’t know the first thing about dancing, but Dusty is a good dancer. He leads and I follow.
“The guy’s an asshole.”
I follow his gaze. Tyson is watching us with an ugly smirk on his face. “You don’t know the half of it.”
Dusty’s expression is still pretty grim. “I know more than you think.”
I meet his gaze. “You know about…”
“The bet?” He shakes his head. “I was there that night, sorry to say. Bo was piping mad about it.”
“Didn’t try to stop it, though.”
“He did.” Dusty says, holding my gaze. “He tried talking them out of it more than once, but short of locking those two animals in a closet, there wasn’t anything he could do besides babysit those dates. Step in if they went south.”
“That’s why he was there the night with Ben?”
He nods. “And Tyson.”
“I didn’t know.”
Dusty looks chagrined. “He’s not a stalker or anything. But he is protective of the people he cares about.”
The music fades out, and the lights dim. A spotlight spills white light down on the stage.
Dusty grins at me. “Looks like you’re about to get your crown.”
I groan. “Is it too late to hide?”
But I’ve been spotted and, short of sprinting out of the room, I have no choice but to force my feet forward. I trudge up to the stage, trying to paste a gracious smile on my face. The whole thing is clearly a sham. Nobody in Silver Bend would have nominated me for this. Only one person has the pull and the shamelessness to get his way. Chad Thomas.
Bo stands rigidly at my side. The spotlight blinds me from seeing into the dark auditorium. It’s almost like we’re standing alone in a halo of light.
Side by side and yet he feels like he’s a million miles away. Someone places crowns on our heads, drones on at length. I stand there, feeling like a butterfly pinned to a board.
They call for a King and Queen’s dance, and Bo takes my hand in his, leading me down to the floor.
It feels like we’ve been transported back in time.