The fruit punch was horrible, the fake disco light looked more like a police light bar and the folding metal chairs were hell on old hips, but Cat was having one of the best nights of her life in the high school gymnasium.
Frank Sinatra crooned from the speakers, her head rested on Russell’s chest and his arms wrapped around her as they swayed to the music. Neither of them were particularly snazzy dancers, but they didn’t care. It was nice just to dance again.
As the song came to an end, Cat leaned back so she could smile and thank him and suggest they sit for a few minutes, but she could tell he was thinking about kissing her. His gaze flicked to her mouth several times and the butterflies in her stomach panicked.
She hadn’t kissed any man but John in…for goodness’ sake, it had been forty-six years. That didn’t seem right to her, but she’d been nineteen when she fell in love with John Shaw and married him six months later. She hadn’t been kissed by another man in almost half a century.
And she could see the hesitation in Russell’s eyes, too. He was thinking of his wife and Cat thought maybe he hadn’t kissed anybody but Flo in a long, long time.
“Do you want some more punch?” she asked, hoping to take the pressure off the moment.
He laughed. “I don’t ever want more of that punch. I could use a little fresh air, though.”
He didn’t take her hand as they went through the propped-open gymnasium doors into the cool summer night, but Cat tried not to be bothered by it. While it had been fourteen years since she’d lost her husband, for Russell it had only been six. Maybe when push came to shove, he just wasn’t ready to face a new relationship.
They walked across the grass to the small copse of trees in the high school’s courtyard, where granite benches sat honoring the graduates who’d lost their lives serving in the military over the decades. Surprisingly, the benches were unoccupied and Russell finally took her hand as he pulled her down to sit beside him on one.
“I enjoy your company so much, Cat,” he said quietly, and she heard the but coming from a mile away. “I just…I’m not sure what we’re doing here.”
“Enjoying each other’s company?”
“That we are.” He turned his head to smile at her and his gaze fixed on her mouth again. “I’m afraid if I kiss you, I might cry.”
She squeezed his hand, though not as hard as his words squeezed her heart. “I might cry, too, but I’d rather cry because I feel something and not just because I’m lonely and feeling sorry for myself.”
“Maybe I should do it, then, and stop trying to count how many years it’s been since I kissed a woman besides my wife.”
Cat tilted her face up and closed her eyes as Russell cupped the back of her head in his hand and kissed her.
She tried not to compare his mouth to John’s—Russell’s lips were softer and yet more aggressive—but eventually everything and everybody except the man touching her fell away. And, as his tongue brushed hers, the dormant feelings of desire and anticipation fluttered to life.
When he reluctantly broke away—or so it seemed to Cat—there were no tears. Maybe deep down there might have been a few bittersweet pangs of sorrow, but the avalanche of renewed and wonderful feelings had buried them way down deep.
He looked her straight in the eye, his face softening as he smiled. “It’s been about half a minute since I kissed anybody but you, Catherine Shaw.”
And for the second time in her life, Cat thought maybe she’d found a man worth keeping.
Chapter Sixteen
Sean watched Emma fumbling with her keys in the darkness. Having left earlier in the day, nobody had thought to turn the outside light on. “I can’t believe Gram’s out this late.”
“We’ve got the house all to ourselves. Maybe after I run that hot bubblebath for you, I’ll help you wash your back.”
“As filthy as I am, I’m going to have to make do with the shower or I’ll leave two inches of mud in the bottom of the tub.”
“We should conserve water and shower together,” he said as he followed her into the house.
“Gee, I couldn’t do that. I’m a nice girl, remember?”
He groaned and bent forward to untie his filthy boots. “There was nothing in your owner’s manual warning about your unnaturally good lip-reading ability.”
“But then I wouldn’t know you think I’m a nice girl, but…”
He wasn’t even sure what he was in trouble for. “I was trying to make him see the difference between him and his wife and you and me. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“Relax,” she said with an impish gleam in her eyes. “I swear, it’s so easy to push your buttons.”