If his chest got any lighter, his feet might leave the ground. Jared whirled Lyla around the dance floor while his pa did the same with Lyla’s aunt. He couldn’t stop grinning. They couldn’t have planned a more perfect night.
During the first half hour at the barn dance, the four of them sat to the side sipping mint-spiced well water and munching cookies and cakes. But then he and Lyla joined a dance circle, and Pa and Mrs. Tuttle followed their example. That first dance led to another and then another. The older couple had danced four songs in a row without a break to visit the food table or talk with neighbors. Now, midway through the fifth song, with the two of them having so much fun, he and Lyla could seize the opportunity to sneak out.
Tightening his grip on her waist, he guided her to the outer edge of the circle. When they reached the side of the barn with the doors, which were opened wide to allow in the evening breeze, he whisked her outside.
Lyla stopped at the edge of the yellow path of lamplight flowing from the barn, forcing him to stumble to a halt, too. “Are we leaving?” She gazed in at the dancers.
“Yes.” He held up his hand, anticipating her argument. “And I already talked to the Powell’s oldest boy. He knows if Pa or your aunt start askin’ about us, he’s to tell them we got tired an’ went on home.” He snickered. “If Pa keeps lookin’ at Mrs. Tuttle the way he’s been doin’ for the past two songs, an’ she keeps lookin’ back at him the same way, they might not notice we’re gone until the whole dance is over.”
Lyla sighed, still watching the dancers. “I hate to leave …”
Jared caught her hand and gave a tug. “They’ll be fine, Lithe Legs.”
She shot an impatient scowl at him. “I know they will. But I was having fun.” All at once her cheeks blazed pink, and she turned away.
Her reaction made his ears buzz. Had she admitted she liked dancing with him? The airy feeling that had carried him around the dance floor returned, and he realized his elation hadn’t all been about Pa and Mrs. Tuttle getting along so good. He liked dancing with Lithe Legs Lyla.
He gulped. “Do … do you wanna stay then?” He held his breath, half hoping she’d say yes so they could dance some more.
She shook her head. The light brown coils of hair that had escaped the bun at the crown of her head bounced on her slender shoulders. “We made a pact. The idea was to get Aunt Marion and your pa focused on each other, and we accomplished that. So it’s time to go.”
Regret showed in her blue-green eyes. He wished they’d never made that pact. “It’s all right. I don’t mind staying … if you want to.”
She shifted and met his gaze. Determination replaced the longing. “Let’s go, Jared. We’ll leave your buggy for them. It’s more comfortable than Uncle Owen and Aunt Marion’s old wagon.” She headed across the dark ground.
Jared trailed her, scuffing up dust with his heels. Horses in their traces released snorts as they walked past the row of wagons and buggies. He absently slowed his steps and gave each animal a brief rub on the nose on his way. Lyla reached her family’s wagon well ahead of him and was already sitting primly on the seat when he caught up.
He pulled himself into the creaky seat beside her, but he didn’t reach for the reins. Fiddle music flowed from the barn, a slow tune that invited a man to hold his partner close and sway gently, like willow tree branches in a breeze. His throat went dry. “It’s not too late if you wanna go back in.” If they hurried, they could sway together for the last half of the song.
She shook her head again, but he thought he glimpsed regret in her somber expression. “Take me home, Jared.”
With a sigh, he picked up the reins, unlocked the brakes, and clicked his tongue on his teeth. The horses strained against the rigging, and the wagon rumbled forward. He guided the team to the road, and they began the three-mile drive to town.
Lyla sat quietly beside him, her hands gripping the tails of her shawl. The night air held a bite, and he considered slipping his arm around her. Just to keep her warm. But he didn’t let go of the reins. Something about her formal pose and grim expression made him hesitant to even talk. Had he upset her somehow?
He chewed the inside of his lip and focused on keeping the horses centered on the road—the moon wanted to slide behind clouds and hide the landscape—until they were within a mile of town. Then the moon popped out in full brightness, growing black shadows on the gray ground and bringing Lyla’s unsmiling face into view. Curiosity got the best of him.
“What’s wrong with you?”
She jumped.
He grimaced. “Sorry, Lithe Legs. Didn’t mean to scare you. But I’ve never seen you so quiet. You’re acting mad. Or upset. Or something.” He bumped her lightly with his elbow. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m not ready to go home.”
“You said you wanted to go home.”
She huffed and hugged herself, shrinking small on the other side of the bouncing seat. “I know I said it. But I didn’t really mean it. I wanted to stay.”
Girls could sure be confusing. “So why didn’t you say you wanted to stay? I’d have stayed.” He battled a wave of regret. “You should’ve said somethin’. We could’ve danced some more.”
“And if we had, what would we have gained?”
The bitterness in her tone shocked him so much he yanked back on the reins. The horses stopped, and he set the brake in place then shifted on the seat to face her. “I guess we would’ve gained an enjoyable evening. What’s wrong with that?”
She tipped her face to glare directly into his eyes. The moonlight hid the color of her eyes, but fervor glimmered there. Or maybe remorse. “What’s wrong is that it puts ideas in my head.”
“Ideas about what? You aren’t making sense.”
She huffed and turned away. “I’ve already said too much. Let’s go on home.”
He snorted. She hadn’t said enough. Not nearly enough. “I’m not goin’ anywhere until you tell me what’s got you all in a snit.”
Her lips crunched so tight they almost disappeared. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was trying not to cry. Lyla was the toughest girl he knew. He must’ve really done something bad if she was set to cry.
He placed his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t like havin’ you mad at me. Tell me what I did wrong. If you tell me, then I can promise to never do it again.” Her shoulder shook. Yep, she was crying even though she didn’t make a sound. He groaned. “Lyla, please …”
She pulled loose and wriggled as far away from him as she could. Which wasn’t far, because the seat wasn’t more than four feet long. If he straightened his arm, he could still catch hold of her. He started reaching.
“You didn’t do anything.”
He paused, confused and doubtful.
“Well, not on purpose, I guess.”
So he’d done something after all. He let his hand drop on her shoulder again and gave a gentle squeeze. “Lithe Legs, stop talkin’ in riddles and just tell me what I did. Then I can take it back an’ we can be go on bein’ friends again.”
“We can never be friends again. And I don’t want to spend any more time with you. Not alone, and not with your pa and Aunt Marion.”
She might as well have punched him in the gut as much as her words hurt. He jerked his hand from her shoulder and gawked at her. “But why? Whaddid I do?”
“Never mind. But I’m done with this game. Now take me home.”