A TEMPORARY FLOOR HAD BEEN CONSTRUCTED NEAR the raised gazebo where the musicians played. Kimberly watched the dancers, moving in time to the melody. She’d never seen so many cowboy hats in one place in her life. Immediately she thought of Chet and the Stetsons he wore much of the time. He had a brown one for work—battered and always a bit dusty—and a crisp, clean black one for church.
And he looks just as good in one as the other.
She wondered where he’d gone when the barbecuing ended. She’d expected him to join her and the others, but he’d never shown up. Not that she missed him or anything.
Liar.
Kimberly caught a glimpse of Tara and Pete spinning by. A new song was playing, something up-tempo featuring a fabulous fiddle player. When had her daughter learned to dance like that? All that turning and dipping and slipping under arched arms and changing directions. The sound of boot heels stomping on the wooden floor filled the air, almost as if it were part of the music itself.
“I take it you like that song,” Chet said from behind her.
His words flowed over her, as smooth as warm honey. “Why do you say that?” She glanced up as he stepped around to face her.
“Because you were tapping your toes.”
“I was?”
“Yep.” He jerked his head toward the dance floor. “Care to give it a try?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never danced like that. I’d make a fool of myself.”
“With the right partner, it’s easier than it looks.”
She doubted that was true.
Chet looked toward the raised gazebo where the band played. As if on cue, the music stopped. There was silence, long enough for the musicians to turn a page. Then they started up again. Something slow and romantic sounding. “Who doesn’t like to dance to a classic Anne Murray song?” He looked back at her and held out his hand. “Could I have this dance?”
She seemed unable to resist taking it and letting him pull her up from her lawn chair. He led her to a corner of the dance floor, then drew her into position. Her right hand disappeared into his left. His right hand settled into the small of her back, his touch sending a very pleasant shiver up her spine.
“Follow my lead.” His voice was husky, and a crooked smile curved his mouth.
She swallowed as he turned her around and guided her right into the circle of other dancers. She stumbled a little, but that firm hand in the small of her back steered her as surely as a bit turned a horse. The rest of the dancers faded into the distance. There were just the two of them, moving smoothly around the floor. The singer said something about having this dance for the rest of her life, and the look in Chet’s eyes said he was asking that very same question of her.
It was unfair of him to be so wonderful. She hadn’t come to Idaho to stay in Idaho, and Chet Leonard would never leave Kings Meadow. What future could they have?
But that question was beginning to sound hollow. An excuse, not a reason.
WAS IT POSSIBLE GOD HAD FASHIONED KIMBERLY SO she would fit this perfectly in his arms?
If Chet could have his way, the song would have gone on until darkness fell and the fireworks began. But he didn’t get his way. The music ended. Couples moved off the floor. Others moved onto it, ready for the next song. Chet hoped for another slow song. He wasn’t that lucky. It was going to be a hand-clapping, boot-stomping, line-dancing tune instead.
“Come on.” He offered his elbow. “We’ll let the pros have this one.”
The look of relief in her eyes made him grin.
“Would you like something to drink? They’ve got Coke and lemonade at the high school stand over there.”
She shook her head, at the same time letting go of his arm. The warmth of her touch lingered on his skin.
“Want to stroll around the park or go back to your chair?” he asked.
Her smile was tentative. “Let’s walk. I haven’t looked around much. I’ve been chatting with Anna most of the time.”
He hoped she would take his arm again as they moved away from the dancers and musicians. She didn’t. Still, as they walked, looking at the various booths, greeting friends and neighbors, he liked that others were seeing them as a couple. The worries he’d voiced to Tom had already ceased to eat at him.
I love her, Lord. I know it’s fast, but I also know it’s true. If it’s Your will, I’d sure like her to stay in Kings Meadow and become my wife.
A future together. A future with Kimberly at his side. He wanted it more than he should. He wished he could tell her right now how he felt, but it was better to wait. Not because he was unsure. He wasn’t. Not any longer. But he wanted to do everything possible to make her sure as well.
“How about a shaved ice?” He pointed to Aloha Shaved Ice, a tropical hut on wheels complete with a thatched roof, fake palm tree, and servers in grass skirts. “The profit goes to help the food bank.”
“Okay.”
“What flavor?”
She read the sign and chose raspberry. He ordered two of the same. That way our lips will be the same color when we’re done. The thought made him feel like a teenager on his first date. He grinned.
“What?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as he handed her the first paper cone filled with ice and syrup.
“Nothing. I’m feeling good tonight.” He leaned closer. “I think it’s the company I keep.”
The suspicion left her eyes, replaced by something Chet couldn’t define. Uncertainty, perhaps. Fine, Mrs. Welch. I’ll just have to make you certain.
They moved away from the shaved ice stand and through the milling crowd.
“I didn’t know this many people lived in Kings Meadow,” Kimberly said after a period of silence.
Chet glanced around. “They come from all through these mountains. Quite the personalities, some of them. You know, the ones who live in school buses parked on old logging roads. Some real storytellers among them. Like Ollie Abbott. Like Anna. The history of this area is kept alive in their stories.”
“You’re a true romantic. Aren’t you, Mr. Leonard? And not only in matters of the heart.”
He pondered her statement before answering, “Do you think so, Mrs. Welch?”
“Yes, and it suits you.”
“Thanks.” He wished he could stop, take her in his arms, and kiss her.
From the gazebo came a tapping on a microphone, followed by an announcement that the fireworks would begin in fifteen minutes. That surprised Chet. He hadn’t realized how deep the dusk had become. Maybe because wherever Kimberly was there seemed to be an abundance of light.
She was right. He was a romantic.