too.
“That’s
funny. Music does strange things to our memory. It reminds us of feelings,
smells, people, and even memories.” He stood and offered his hand to her.
“Would you like to dance?”
She
had the sensation of doing this same thing what seemed eons ago. So this must be what a déjà vu moment feels
like.
Chrissie
looked around for Arturo to see if he was still near. He was across the street,
leaning against a wall and smoking his pipe. He smiled and waved. Maybe it was
okay to dance with this stranger, Arturo didn’t seem to be bothered by it.
“Sounds
like fun.” She smiled as she accepted his hand. If a handsome man asked her to
dance, of course she’d say yes. She was no dummy. She wished she could send a
picture of this to Trey.
The
stranger told the musician in perfectly fluent Spanish to play the song one
more time as they began a simple tango. Chrissie fell into the steps like her
muscles remembered how to dance it. It struck her as odd that it felt natural
to her.
“You dance very well.” He pulled Chrissie
tight against him, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flutter.
He can hold me closer anytime !
It
had been so long since she’d had any human interaction other than with her
parents or doctors, a man as attractive as this stranger had her slobbering all
over herself.
“Thank
you. I took dance classes when I was three,” Chrissie nervously answered.
“Though, I don’t think ballet is anywhere close to the tango. I think I might
have done it in college in my ballroom dance class briefly.” Her cheeks heated
under his stare. Normally, she wasn’t a rambler, but he was also so above
average.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never danced
ballet.” The friendly banter flowed easily. “But I’m sure I would look
absolutely stunning in tights.”
“You’re
just so darn cute and easy to talk to.” He
must be taken or gay . “May I ask the name of the man I’m dancing with?”
Chrissie hooked her right leg over his in a common tango hook move.
“Brant.”
“Brant?
Brant what?”
“Brant
Winston.” He dipped Chrissie back slowly. “Now it’s your turn to tell me
yours.”
“Chrysanthemum
Love Stevens.” Her shoulders pushed
back with mock pride.
“Wicked.
That’s a mouthful. How did your parents come up with a name like that?” Brant’s
smooth movements made Chrissie feel like she was a good dancer too.
“It’s
my mom’s favorite flower, and then she came across a children’s book about a
little mouse named Chrysanthemum and couldn’t shake it out of her head. The
rest is history.” Her mother was a happy memory.
At
that moment, Chrissie wished her mom were here. She would love the green
vegetation, and she’d never been outside of the U.S.
“The tiny
pink blossoms are my favorite variety,” Brant commented.
“You
know a little bit about chrysanthemums? Not very many people take interest in
flowers.”
“I
know quite a bit about horticulture.” Brant slowly spun Chrissie.
“I bet that’s a real hit with your girlfriend.”
Chrissie said cautiously, wanting to find out if he was on the market.
“I
don’t know,” he said.
The
song ended too soon for Chrissie. She wanted to dance the rest of the night in
Brant’s arms.
I still don’t know if he’s taken. My mom
would be asking right off the bat for that information.
“Thank you for the pleasure of the dance,
Miss Chrysanthemum Love Stevens,” he breathed as his nose almost touched hers.
“No,
the pleasure is all mine.” Chrissie curtsied deeply, and as she stood, her
surroundings wobbled. “Whoa.” She held her fingers to her temples and shook her
head.
Brant
was at her side, stabilizing her elbow, “Are you all right? Too many spins on
the boardwalk? You look a bit knackered.”
“Nope.”
Chrissie quickly recovered. “I’m great,” she lied.
I can’t have him thinking I’m weak sauce.
I’m a Texan, for goodness’ sakes!
“I
think I’m just
“That’s
funny. Music does strange things to our memory. It reminds us of feelings,
smells, people, and even memories.” He stood and offered his hand to her.
“Would you like to dance?”
She
had the sensation of doing this same thing what seemed eons ago. So this must be what a déjà vu moment feels
like.
Chrissie
looked around for Arturo to see if he was still near. He was across the street,
leaning against a wall and smoking his pipe. He smiled and waved. Maybe it was
okay to dance with this stranger, Arturo didn’t seem to be bothered by it.
“Sounds
like fun.” She smiled as she accepted his hand. If a handsome man asked her to
dance, of course she’d say yes. She was no dummy. She wished she could send a
picture of this to Trey.
The
stranger told the musician in perfectly fluent Spanish to play the song one
more time as they began a simple tango. Chrissie fell into the steps like her
muscles remembered how to dance it. It struck her as odd that it felt natural
to her.
“You dance very well.” He pulled Chrissie
tight against him, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flutter.
He can hold me closer anytime !
It
had been so long since she’d had any human interaction other than with her
parents or doctors, a man as attractive as this stranger had her slobbering all
over herself.
“Thank
you. I took dance classes when I was three,” Chrissie nervously answered.
“Though, I don’t think ballet is anywhere close to the tango. I think I might
have done it in college in my ballroom dance class briefly.” Her cheeks heated
under his stare. Normally, she wasn’t a rambler, but he was also so above
average.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never danced
ballet.” The friendly banter flowed easily. “But I’m sure I would look
absolutely stunning in tights.”
“You’re
just so darn cute and easy to talk to.” He
must be taken or gay . “May I ask the name of the man I’m dancing with?”
Chrissie hooked her right leg over his in a common tango hook move.
“Brant.”
“Brant?
Brant what?”
“Brant
Winston.” He dipped Chrissie back slowly. “Now it’s your turn to tell me
yours.”
“Chrysanthemum
Love Stevens.” Her shoulders pushed
back with mock pride.
“Wicked.
That’s a mouthful. How did your parents come up with a name like that?” Brant’s
smooth movements made Chrissie feel like she was a good dancer too.
“It’s
my mom’s favorite flower, and then she came across a children’s book about a
little mouse named Chrysanthemum and couldn’t shake it out of her head. The
rest is history.” Her mother was a happy memory.
At
that moment, Chrissie wished her mom were here. She would love the green
vegetation, and she’d never been outside of the U.S.
“The tiny
pink blossoms are my favorite variety,” Brant commented.
“You
know a little bit about chrysanthemums? Not very many people take interest in
flowers.”
“I
know quite a bit about horticulture.” Brant slowly spun Chrissie.
“I bet that’s a real hit with your girlfriend.”
Chrissie said cautiously, wanting to find out if he was on the market.
“I
don’t know,” he said.
The
song ended too soon for Chrissie. She wanted to dance the rest of the night in
Brant’s arms.
I still don’t know if he’s taken. My mom
would be asking right off the bat for that information.
“Thank you for the pleasure of the dance,
Miss Chrysanthemum Love Stevens,” he breathed as his nose almost touched hers.
“No,
the pleasure is all mine.” Chrissie curtsied deeply, and as she stood, her
surroundings wobbled. “Whoa.” She held her fingers to her temples and shook her
head.
Brant
was at her side, stabilizing her elbow, “Are you all right? Too many spins on
the boardwalk? You look a bit knackered.”
“Nope.”
Chrissie quickly recovered. “I’m great,” she lied.
I can’t have him thinking I’m weak sauce.
I’m a Texan, for goodness’ sakes!
“I
think I’m just
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