Page 20 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

A waitress comes up to us, her bright, coppery hair trailing down her back in glorious waves. She blows wispy bangs away from green eyes and looks at me and Steph with a friendly, albeit tired, smile. She looks completely out of place here and I'm instantly curious.

"Can I get you anything?" she asks, holding up a pad with a perfectly manicured hand.

Walker holds up a finger and gives her an obvious once-over. "Actually . . ." he begins, but she doesn't even glance his way.

"Nope," she says, looking at her pad. "Asking the ladies."

I laugh and Holden pops out of his reverie to smile at the waitress. Walker's jaw drops and Steph pats him on the shoulder.

"It's a special day when Walker Crawford gets the 'nope' from a woman. I'm just so pleased I was here to see it," Steph laughs.

Walker snaps his mouth shut and moves back to warmer waters, where the women are happy he's returned.

The waitress, impressively, doesn't even sneak a peek as he walks away.

She dresses in a way that tells me she's not local, and her accent confirms it.

She speaks in rounder, softer tones that sound like she's spent some time in the south, but I couldn't possibly nail it down.

She's on the taller side, and has lean curves that keep drawing Walker's eye even from a few tables away.

"I'm Leni," I say to her warmly. "This is my sister, Stephanie, and my husband, Holden."

The waitress's smile grows. "I'm Birdie."

"You new to the area, Birdie?" Steph asks, "Or did Walker's reputation precede him?"

"Walker?" she asks, turning when Steph points, to glance at the big, blond golden retriever who's pretending not to sulk. "Never heard of him." She shrugs and looks back to us. "I hope he's not your friend and I've offended you."

"He's my brother," Holden says, and poor Birdie blushes.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. He needs a reminder every now and then that he isn't Mama's perfect angel," Holden says, his lips tugging up. "He'll be easier to live with for a while now."

"I'm new to this part of the country. Everyone told me to be careful around sweet-talking cowboys, because they'll take you for a ride," Birdie says with a light laugh. "I didn't listen, and I got burned. So now I'm trying to correct that mistake."

"Solid plan," Steph agrees. "I've avoided cowboys my entire life, and it's been smooth sailing."

Birdie grins, and it makes her face light up. There's something behind her eyes, though, that tells me she's all alone and a little sad. She said she was new here, and that she'd been burned, and my heart goes out to her. It can be lonely in this part of the country, even when you do know people.

"We're in the contest, so no orders right now, but I hope I'll see you around," I say to her as a sound squeals through the speaker system, letting us know things are about to start.

"My last name is Crawford. We live over in Pinehaven.

Maybe we could have lunch sometime?" I ask quickly, knowing our time is short.

She nods. "I'd like that."

And then Birdie disappears back into the crowd as my attention is dragged to the overhead speaker.

The announcer explains the rules, and it's hard to listen because Holden is tapping a boot on the floor next to me.

Steph is at my side, and Walker comes to stand next to his brother.

He's already forgotten about Birdie and her slight, judging by the big smile on his face and excitement in his eyes. Walker loves a spotlight.

When we're told to take to the floor, Holden takes my hand in his and leads me out.

It feels nice to have his large, warm hand wrapped around mine, and I don't resist the pull.

He manages to get us in the middle of the group, which I don't hate.

It will give us time to warm up without eyes on us.

Walker and Steph take places in the front row, which totally makes sense for their personalities.

The music starts before I'm ready, and I look over to Holden who appears to be counting beats in his mind so loudly that he's going to crack.

I tap his shoulder and he looks down at me.

I offer him a wide smile, meant to convey that this should be fun and I don't plan on winning a darn thing.

It does the trick, and I watch his arms relax, dangling loosely at his sides.

The dance starts with everyone moving into the first set of heel clicks.

It takes a minute, but thanks to the online videos and the familiar music, the moves come back to me.

By the time we've done our second rotation I am in the groove.

I smile, clapping and swinging my hips, and sashaying sassily through the cha-cha parts.

As we move back to the forward-facing place we first began, I feel a light caress across my back.

Then another on my hip, and a little grab at my hand.

Holden is making contact with me as we go, using his hands to show that we're a duo.

I've seen other couples do this, but didn't expect it from my anti public affection spouse.

It warms my skin when he trails his hand down my arm, or lightly presses my lower back, and I find myself distracted but able to keep moving.

The touches keep coming – trailing fingertips across my exposed neck, along my shoulders, and they all add up enough that I stumble a bit .

The stumble has us waved out of the group, and this time as we walk, Holden rests his steady hand against my lower back, guiding me to a seat on the sidelines.

My breaths come quickly from the exertion of the dance, but it's not helped by the unexpected contact.

How long has it been since he touched me this way?

With easy affection? When was the last time he made my stomach buzz like this?

I climb onto one of the high stools with a back and Holden climbs onto the one next to me, draping his arm across the back of my stool.

The heat and strength of him seep into my side and I want to lean closer.

I want his fingers to wrap around my shoulder or play with the bare skin of my arm like he used to.

I want the palm of his hand against the nape of my neck, easing away years of tension and loneliness – so when his hand does drop to cup my shoulder I nearly sigh in relief.

We don't speak, but we do watch Steph and Walker dazzle on the floor, and when the competition ends they've taken third and fifth place, losing to people who clearly do this all the time. Frankly, I think it's amazing they placed at all.

We're a laughing, sweaty bunch, and when the house music goes back to a slow song after the contest is called. Holden slides from his stool and takes off his hat, setting it on the table before holding out a hand to me, inviting me to two-step with him, something we haven't done in forever.

I take his hand and pull off my own hat. "I don't know if I remember the moves," I say, patting at my hair as he weaves his fingers between mine.

"If we could do that line dance, we can do this. Besides, I remember enough for the both of us."

I see Steph hold out her hand to Walker, who smirks and follows her onto the floor too, but I lose sight of them as Holden takes me in the proper stance and leaves a little space between us so that we can move easily.

Then, with memory buried somewhere deep, we fall into the steps that used to come naturally.

His hand on my back is patient and strong as he guides me around the floor, his other hand in mine steady and warm.

I swallow hard and look into hazel eyes that are relaxed and open, and that seem to see me, and only me.

My heart is in my throat, and when he pulls me closer I go willingly.

The press of his chest against mine and his arm wrapped around my back make me feel cocooned and safe.

It's a feeling I've mourned the loss of.

And when I give up the official moves to lay my cheek against his shoulder, pressing my nose into his neck, he slows our steps even further and holds our hands against his chest in an embrace we've both needed for a long, long time.