Page 89 of Accidental Blind Date

“If it makes you feel better,” she says, still holding all that same warmth. “I don’t want to leave either. But also…I miss your girls too.”

“And they miss you,” I tell her and Libby’s face lights up.

“They do?”

“They do.”

“Did they say that?”

“They said that. I’ve been texting with them and that's what they said. They miss Miss Libby. Especially at story time.”

“Awe…” she gushes and I swear she looks like she’s going to cry. “I’m sure Summer is doing a good job though.”

“Well from the sound of it, Summer got a cold and Tom stepped in.”

Libby’s mouth screws into a smile. “Tom…did story time?”

“Green Eggs and Ham,” I nod.

“And how did that go?” she asks, fighting a giggle.

“I guess he stopped multiple times and told the kids that Sam is being manipulative and that the unnamed man shouldn’t let Sam harass him into doing anything he doesn’t want to do, including eating discolored breakfast foods.”

Libby snorts and it turns to a full-blown laugh. “That does sound like Tom.”

“Delilah didn’t like him,” I tell her, quoting the entire conversation I had earlier with my daughters on speakerphone while they got ready for bed.

“And Poppy?”

“Poppy found him to be very persuasive. Apparently she’s using his arguments to get out of eating her vegetables now.”

“Yikes,” Libby says, still giggling. And I find myself smiling again. Now that I think about it, I am always smiling when I’m with her. It’s a sharp left turn from the way I felt before when I thought she was just trying to make my life harder.

I was wrong.

Suddenly the beat of club music begins to play outside and both of us turn to see what’s going on. “I think there’s a party out by the garden bar,” Libby says, her shoulders shimmying lightly to the music.

“You want to go?” I ask and as expected, Libby’s attention pops up to me.

“You dance?” she asks.

“I’d dance with you,” I say.

She lights up and that’s all I need. We make our way outside and sure enough, music is pouring out of the garden bar. A swarm of happy, drink carrying people are moving and swaying to the music in the moonlight.

“This is fun,” she says as the steel dumbs kick in, and people pick up the pace. “Do you want to get a drink first?”

I reach out and pull her against me. Then I lower my mouth to her ear, my lips brushing her hair.

“I don’t need a drink to dance with you, Libby.”

My palm presses to her back which is bare thanks to the world’s sexiest dress, and we begin to move. It’s effortless the way our bodies fit and meld together. The humidity clings to us bringing out all our pheromones, all our energy, all our desire. The night is hot and the music carries us, closer together then further apart. I watch as she dances in front of me, her hands up, her back arched, her hips finding the beat as she turns in a circle.

I’m torn between wanting to just sit back and watch and wanting to pull her back against me so I can feel the music move through her.

Luckily, one song later, I don’t have to make the decision because Libby makes it for me.

She shimmies back towards me and lifts her head up to mine. “You want to get out of here?” she asks.