Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

BLAKE

For tonight's get-together, we're meeting in the ballroom for square dancing. I've loved country music since the square-dancing segment we had in middle school gym class. It was hands-down my favorite.

After putting on a pair of jeans and pairing it with a flannel shirt, I look in the mirror and realize that all that's missing is a cowboy hat and boots. Other than that, I could pass for that country singer Cody Johnson.

I decide that tonight I'm going to go down to the mixer ahead of the crowd. I want to make sure that I'm there before Molly shows up. I don't know how I'm going to get her to talk to me, but I have a couple of ideas.

On my way to the elevator, I see Ben's family again. I'm no longer surprised by how often we run into each other. "Ben!" I greet him. "You look like you've had a busy day." This is the first time I'm seeing him without a hat on and sure enough, he's bald.

"I went zip-lining!" he tells me excitedly.

"That's a lot of fun, isn't it?" I reach a hand toward Ben's dad and introduce myself. "I'm Blake. "

He smiles knowingly. "Francie told me. It's really nice what you're trying to do for us."

"What's he doing?" Ben wants to know.

"It's a surprise," Francie says. Then she tells her husband, "Why don't you take Ben to our room. I'll be there in just a minute."

After they leave, Francie tells me, "I just want you to know that I'm not holding you to the whole Bulls tickets thing."

"I talked to my boss," I tell her. "And things look promising. I just need your phone number so I can let you know what date your tickets are for, and we can set up how I'm going to get them to you."

Francie looks like she's about to cry. "I don't know what we've done to deserve people doing such nice things for us, but I'm very grateful."

"I'm not doing much," I tell her, "but I have an inkling of what your family is going through." Before emotion clogs my throat, I tell her, "My little brother died when he was only three."

Francie takes my hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. Several moments pass before she lets it go. "Thank you, Blake." That's all she says before she walks off to join her husband and son.

Life is so fragile; you never know how much time you have. As such, it seems horribly frivolous to waste even a moment. Suddenly, Molly is all I can think about, and I can't wait to go downstairs to see her.

When I get to the ballroom, I discover they've done their best to make it feel less elegant and more rustic. There are bales of hay stacked around the room, and the tables are covered in red-checked gingham cloths. They even have a table full of cowboy hats for us to use. I pick up a black Stetson, and it fits perfectly.

Molly walks into the room looking like she didn't get the country western memo. She's wearing another cocktail dress. This one is a black sleeveless number. I'm glad to see that her back is covered because I did not like the stares she was getting when she wore that sexy blue number .

I approach her from behind so she can't run from me. When I reach her side, I gently touch her shoulder to get her attention. As soon as we make eye contact, I can't tell if she's happy to see me or in a panic to get away.

"I'm sorry about this morning," I tell her. "I know I said I was here for work, but it's occurred to me there's no reason I can't be here for pleasure as well."

"What are you saying?" she asks incredulously. "You want me to help you find a girlfriend?"

Shaking my head, I tell her, "I'd like you to dance with me."

"Why?"

"Because I like you and I want to dance with you," I tell her.

"Because you're afraid I'm going to tell people why you're really here and you want to keep watch on me?" Man, is she suspicious.

"Molly," I tell her. "I like you and I want to dance with you. Why can't that be enough?"

She looks down at her dress and says, "I'm not wearing the right thing."

"You look beautiful," I tell her sincerely. Then I take her hand and lead her out onto the dance floor. The band is playing an old Garth Brooks song that I've always loved. I open my arms to Molly and invite her in.

Once we're moving to the music, I lean down and tell her, "You are stunning tonight." She grumbles something about empty compliments, so I double down. "You are easily the most gorgeous woman in the room."

"Quit trying to charm me, Blake. I'm not buying it."

I surprise her by saying, "I don't care if you tell people why I'm here."

She pulls back so she can look me in the eye. "This morning you practically begged me not to."

"That was before I realized I can do my job and have fun."

"Are you sure your girlfriend won't mind? "

"Molly," I pull her closer, "Gillian is not my girlfriend. I don't have a girlfriend."

"And you're not looking for one either," she drawls disdainfully.

"I might be." I let that statement dangle in the air for a moment before adding, "If I meet someone I like."

I feel her body tense in my arms before she says, "You like me."

"Very much."

We dance for the rest of the song without saying another word and yet, I feel like we've communicated nonstop. Before another song starts, Trina steps up to the microphone and announces, "Are you all ready to learn some basic square-dancing moves?"

I'm surprised when the crowd lets out a loud cheer. I guess everyone likes to do-si-do. Before handing off the microphone to the band leader, Trina says, "All I know about square-dancing is that it's time to grab your partner!"

We spend the next several minutes watching a couple up front show us the moves. We allemande left, right and left grand, and promenade. Then we learn how to sashay, pass through, and box the gnat. There's thirty minutes of this before we're deemed ready to roll.

Leaning down to Molly's ear, I ask her, "Are you ready?"

"Oh, I'm ready," she tells me.

The band starts to play an old-time classic called "Birdie in the Cage." They start out slowly at first to give everyone a chance to warm up. Then they play the same number again at the regular pace. We laugh as we spin and twirl and practice all the steps we just learned. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun.

By the time the song is over, the whole room is panting from exertion and laughter. I take Molly's hand and lead her off the dance floor. When we're safely out of the traffic flow, I tell her, "I'm really glad you're here."

"Why?"

"Because I'm having the time of my life and I'm having it with you. Molly," I start to say before pausing for a moment. "Things aren't always what they seem, but that doesn't mean they aren't real."

She looks at me with confusion. "I have no idea what you're saying."

"I'm saying that just because you think I'm here for one reason, doesn't mean I'm not here for another reason, too."

She shakes her head. "You are confusing me."

"You think that I'm here to get tips for a coffee shop …"

She interrupts, "Because that's what you told me."

"Right." I still can't tell her why I'm really here and it's driving me crazy. But I swear that once those Bulls tickets are in my hand, I'm going to tell Molly the whole truth. Looking deeply into her eyes, I say, "Please listen to me very carefully because what I'm about to say is one hundred percent the truth."

She doesn't so much as blink, so I continue. "I like you, Molly, and that's for real. I love spending time with you. I think you're funny and gorgeous and quirky …"

"And?" she breathlessly prompts me.

The air positively crackles with energy as I lean closer to her. "And I wonder if you would mind if I kissed you."

I can feel the tingles as they rise on her arms. "You want to kiss me?"

"I really do," I tell her.

"Right here in front of everyone?"

Without breaking eye contact, I nod my head. "If you don't mind."

She leans in toward me and reaches up on her tip toes before answering, "I don't mind at all."

And then, just like that, our lips meet, and I realize that maybe there was a divine plan for my coming to this event. Maybe I was meant to be here for a bigger reason because at this moment, I one hundred percent feel like Molly just might be my person.