Calla giggled, following him inside the hall where laughter tinkled and music played. The hall looked incredible. Small globe lights hung from the ceiling, giving the enormous room a dreamy glowing effect. Stacks of hay bales with freshly carved pumpkins on top of them lined the walls.
Bowls of orange and yellow punch were on the serving tables, along with trays and trays of food. Miniature fall leaves fluttered to the dance floor via a machine that shot them into the air, creating a swirl of fall ambience.
Daphne squealed from behind, tugging the skirt on Calla’s dress. “You look fantastic! I’m so glad you’re here.” She pulled Calla in for a hug before setting her away from her and whistling. “That dress makes you almost glow. It’s perfect.”
Calla blushed. Daphne was gorgeous, and blonde, and had a figure she’d consider killing her for if she wasn’t so warm and friendly. She always had a kind word, and her husband Fate wasn’t too hard to look at either.
Nash tipped his Stetson at her and grinned that delicious grin that made Calla’s toes curl. “Daphne, Fate, good to see you two out and about. Miss Daphne, you look mighty pretty tonight. Fate’s a lucky man.”
Daphne fanned herself with a cocktail napkin and grinned. “How do you feel about cowboy hats, honey?” she asked her husband.
Fate reached over his wife’s petite frame and took Calla’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “After all this time, it’s nice to finally meet the woman who added ten pounds to my scale,” he said in a teasing tone.
But then he pulled away as though touching her were distasteful. The moment was brief, but it was there before he masterfully hid it behind a weak lift of his lips.
Huh.
Calla fixed a smile on her face anyway, brushing off the odd first impression. Maybe Fate was just having a bad day. When you were responsible for everyone’s future, it had to take its toll. “Nice to meet you, too. Daphne told me your preference is the orange marmalade.”
He pointed a finger to his stomach, his expression back to light and easy. “Ate every last one of the six she brought home. You have a gift, Calla Allen. Ya done good, Ryder.” Fate slapped Nash on the back and chuckled.
Daphne shooed them with a flash of her ringed fingers. “So we’re going to let you two go…er, mingle. C’mon, good-looking. You owe me a little dirty dancin’.”
Fate wiggled his eyebrows at his wife. “Will I always live in Patrick Swayze’s shadow, m’love?” he asked on a laugh before grabbing Daphne’s hand and twirling her toward the dance floor.
Nash pulled her close as they watched the couple melt into the crowd. “So, can I interest you in a corn dog, pretty lady?”
Calla laughed. “Duh.”
Spinning her away from him, he led her out to the dance floor, where he paused and cocked his head as the music changed. “Is that our song? Huh. Funny that.”
Calla’s heart constricted in her chest that he’d remembered. They’d been stargazing in the bed of his truck on his vast acreage one night after a picnic dinner. Nash had forgotten to buy some wine to go along with their meal, so she’d grabbed what Ezra had in the fridge, not realizing it was cheap strawberry wine until Nash opened it.
As they talked and laughed and became reacquainted with the lives they led now, ironically, Strawberry Wine came on the radio and he’d asked her to dance—right there in the middle of one of his pastures under a batch of twinkling stars the size of saucers.
It was the moment she knew she wanted Nash. It was the moment he’d confessed that, long ago, he’d wanted to ask her to the End of Summer Fling, but he’d stopped himself from divulging how he felt in order to let her go off to college.
But tonight, as the words to the chorus began their melancholy tune—Like strawberry wine and seventeen; a hot July moon—he repeated the very words he’d spoken that night in the pasture. “Would you do me the honor of dancing that dance I was damn stupid not to ask for eleven years ago?”
Her eyes filled with tears when she held out her hand and he drew her close. The subtle shudder of his chest against hers, the heat of their bodies when their hands connected and he swept her off into a slow waltz, made her stomach flutter with anticipation.
She didn’t hold her head in typical waltz pose. Instead she let it rest on his shoulder and closed her eyes, inhaling his scent, woodsy and fresh, absorbing his strength.
This thing between she and Nash was real—rich in texture; deeper, layered—more than any relationship she’d ever had to date.
This was the moment Winnie had described to Calla when she talked about her husband Ben.
This was knowing exactly what you wanted. This was accepting someone else without reservation, faults and all.
This was unconditional, passionate, mature.
This was love.
Chapter 5
Nash filled her wine glass, the clear liquid illuminated by the candles he’d lit by the dozen all over his house, their flickering glow turning his great room into a soft haze of muted colors.