Free Wild with You by Sara Jane Stone Page B

diminish your ability to perform.”
    Cheering, music, and the officiant’s words, “I now pronounce you man and wife,” interrupted. Kat stood, clapping and smiling as the bride and groom raced down the aisle followed by the empty-­handed little boy and the golden retriever.
    â€œBut I can’t dance with you,” Brody murmured.
    His words took the edge off her happiness. “Then why did you bring me?”
    She knew the answer as soon as the words escaped. Pity. She’d offered a window into her past and Mr. Do-­the-­Right-­Thing had felt sorry for her. Her grade school science project was coming back to haunt her again. But she refused to let it win.
    â€œI thought you’d have fun,” he said.
    And you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving me at the hotel. He’d meant well. She wasn’t blind to that fact. But she hated the idea that this man looked at her and saw a dog that had been kicked one too many times. She wasn’t a rescue project. Not anymore.
    The guests followed the bridal party into the winery’s event space. Floor-­to-­ceiling windows showed tables decorated with simple yet elegant centerpieces, a dance floor, and a long wooden bar lined with wine bottles. But Kat hung back, allowing the invited guests to join the bride and groom.
    â€œI will have fun,” she said. “If you dance with me.”
    Winning a yes from Brody suddenly felt necessary. It had been years since anyone had caught a glimpse beneath the facade she presented to the world. In New York no one looked at her and saw “orphan.” No one offered Dr. Katherine Arnold a pity date, not to a wedding or anywhere else.
    She stepped into the reception and scanned the crowd. “I could ask that cowboy over there. The one wearing the T-­shirt.”
    â€œCraig?” Brody’s hand moved to her lower back, his finger brushing the outer layer of her skirt. “He’s one of Eric’s crew chiefs.”
    â€œA man who wields a chainsaw can’t dance?” she challenged as he guided her toward the bar.
    Brody’s jaw locked, his hand pressing tight against her back. “I’ll do it. I’ll dance with you.”
    T WENT Y MINUTES LATER , after the bride and groom completed their first spin around the dance floor, Brody set his beer on the bar and held out his hand. A lively, familiar country song filled the room. He might look like a fool moving to the upbeat tempo, but he couldn’t risk a long, slow song that demanded close contact. If he held her body up against his, it wouldn’t end there.
    â€œReady?” he asked.
    â€œYou always keep your word, don’t you?” Kat placed her wineglass beside his beer and allowed him to lead her to the center of the cleared area.
    â€œIf I say I’m going to do something, I do it.” He placed one hand on her waist and tried not to think about what her curves looked like free from her fancy clothes.
    â€œHmmm,” she murmured, moving closer, ignoring his attempt to keep her body from pressing up against his. “I’m tempted to wiggle a naughty promise out of you.”
    Brody frowned. “I don’t think this is the time or place.”
    Her hand moved up his shoulder to where his shirt collar stopped. Her fingertips teased the bare skin. “I’m sure they have a quiet storage room. From what I recall, you don’t need much, just a solid door, maybe a wall for support.”
    â€œI’m not sure about that.” He stepped back and spun her in a tight circle. The see-­through layer of her skirt lifted, practically begging him to haul her off the dance floor. That damn fabric had taunted him from the moment he’d spotted her in the hotel parking lot, striding toward his truck. Part of him wanted to disappear beneath it, and yeah, a solid door in a secluded storage room would work for that. But that sure as heck wasn’t why