unexpected.
He gave her a nod. “You were sandbaggin’. You can dance, girl.”
She shrugged.
He spun her and then dipped under her arm, shifting direction. “I have an eye for good dancers,” he said. “I spotted you from all the way over there.”
“Is that right?”
He gave her a wink. “Oh, yeah.”
Seriously? He was a little too young for her, but who the heck cared? It was just for fun, and she was feeling like a million bucks about now. She smiled without a reply and kept up her steps.
Sheriff Calvin paced the front of the stage, keeping the fans at a reasonable distance. He glanced over at the crowd of folks who’d started dancing just off the stage area. Derek, Mac from the bakery’s son, was dancing. He was a good dancer, everyone in town knew that, but the girl he was dancing with caught Scott’s attention. Savannah Dey moved with the grace of a ballerina, light on her feet and with a smile that could light up the evening. He watched them move around the makeshift dance floor, and she was keeping up with Derek like a pro.
“Sheriff!” someone shouted from behind him.
He spun around to see two girls clambering onto the stage. They weren’t locals.
One of his deputies was already escorting one of them off. That was the only problem with having a celebrity do these kinds of things locally. The locals respected Cody and his privacy, and appreciated the free concert, but fans always found out about their private events and showed up causing trouble.
He grabbed the second girl by the waist and set her down on the ground. “Calm down, young lady.”
“I know him!” she screamed. “I love him. He wants me to come onstage.”
“I’m sure he does. It just won’t be tonight.” Sheriff Calvin guided the half-drunk, scantily clad brunette to the edge of the stage and gave her a choice. “You can enjoy the rest of the show from right here, or I’d be happy to show you the way to the parking lot.”
She started with a flurry of words that his momma wouldn’t deem ladylike.
“Parking lot it is,” he said.
CHAPTER THREE
W hen Savannah opened her eyes, the room was so dark that it was d isorienting. The sun wasn’t shining through the blue sheers of her bedroom window, and the city sounds of DC weren’t ratcheting up like an alarm clock trying to nudge her awake along with the smell of coffee she’d set to perk the night before.
No, this morning the room was so dark she wasn’t sure whether it was still night or her body had done its usual six o’clock ready-to-go like it did every other day.
She extended her arm, patting the air for a table and her phone. Finally she felt the rubbery case of her phone and picked it up. As soon as she pressed the thumbspot, the display cast a bright light in the room and showed the time: 6:00 a.m.
Like clockwork. That’s me.
One fuzzy thought pushed in and she remembered she was in Adams Grove. In a rented apartment for some downtime. Or a semi-vacation, as Evelyn had put it. But seriously, wasn’t vacationing like being pregnant? You either were or you weren’t.
Then again, Evelyn was going to reassign the Advice from Van column, and that was enough to make her practically bounce right out of the bed. She didn’t even care if it meant a pay cut. She’d been frugal with the pay increase from the column, treating it like a bonus rather than a long-term thing from the start. Who knew that joke would turn into a two-year commitment? She’d had a good run with it.
With no commute and no schedule, she felt like she had time to sleep in. An unusual feeling, but a nice change. Plus it was Sunday. But her body wouldn’t cooperate with her brain.
She twisted the light switch on the bedside lamp, then slipped out of bed and into her yoga pants and a T-shirt. She hadn’t planned to be in Belles Corner but one night, so her impromptu extended stay in Adams Grove left her with limited wardrobe choices.
Her notes and laptop lay on the table near the
He gave her a nod. “You were sandbaggin’. You can dance, girl.”
She shrugged.
He spun her and then dipped under her arm, shifting direction. “I have an eye for good dancers,” he said. “I spotted you from all the way over there.”
“Is that right?”
He gave her a wink. “Oh, yeah.”
Seriously? He was a little too young for her, but who the heck cared? It was just for fun, and she was feeling like a million bucks about now. She smiled without a reply and kept up her steps.
Sheriff Calvin paced the front of the stage, keeping the fans at a reasonable distance. He glanced over at the crowd of folks who’d started dancing just off the stage area. Derek, Mac from the bakery’s son, was dancing. He was a good dancer, everyone in town knew that, but the girl he was dancing with caught Scott’s attention. Savannah Dey moved with the grace of a ballerina, light on her feet and with a smile that could light up the evening. He watched them move around the makeshift dance floor, and she was keeping up with Derek like a pro.
“Sheriff!” someone shouted from behind him.
He spun around to see two girls clambering onto the stage. They weren’t locals.
One of his deputies was already escorting one of them off. That was the only problem with having a celebrity do these kinds of things locally. The locals respected Cody and his privacy, and appreciated the free concert, but fans always found out about their private events and showed up causing trouble.
He grabbed the second girl by the waist and set her down on the ground. “Calm down, young lady.”
“I know him!” she screamed. “I love him. He wants me to come onstage.”
“I’m sure he does. It just won’t be tonight.” Sheriff Calvin guided the half-drunk, scantily clad brunette to the edge of the stage and gave her a choice. “You can enjoy the rest of the show from right here, or I’d be happy to show you the way to the parking lot.”
She started with a flurry of words that his momma wouldn’t deem ladylike.
“Parking lot it is,” he said.
CHAPTER THREE
W hen Savannah opened her eyes, the room was so dark that it was d isorienting. The sun wasn’t shining through the blue sheers of her bedroom window, and the city sounds of DC weren’t ratcheting up like an alarm clock trying to nudge her awake along with the smell of coffee she’d set to perk the night before.
No, this morning the room was so dark she wasn’t sure whether it was still night or her body had done its usual six o’clock ready-to-go like it did every other day.
She extended her arm, patting the air for a table and her phone. Finally she felt the rubbery case of her phone and picked it up. As soon as she pressed the thumbspot, the display cast a bright light in the room and showed the time: 6:00 a.m.
Like clockwork. That’s me.
One fuzzy thought pushed in and she remembered she was in Adams Grove. In a rented apartment for some downtime. Or a semi-vacation, as Evelyn had put it. But seriously, wasn’t vacationing like being pregnant? You either were or you weren’t.
Then again, Evelyn was going to reassign the Advice from Van column, and that was enough to make her practically bounce right out of the bed. She didn’t even care if it meant a pay cut. She’d been frugal with the pay increase from the column, treating it like a bonus rather than a long-term thing from the start. Who knew that joke would turn into a two-year commitment? She’d had a good run with it.
With no commute and no schedule, she felt like she had time to sleep in. An unusual feeling, but a nice change. Plus it was Sunday. But her body wouldn’t cooperate with her brain.
She twisted the light switch on the bedside lamp, then slipped out of bed and into her yoga pants and a T-shirt. She hadn’t planned to be in Belles Corner but one night, so her impromptu extended stay in Adams Grove left her with limited wardrobe choices.
Her notes and laptop lay on the table near the
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