Winter Fire (The Witchling #3)(52)

“It’s not hard. You just have to listen to the music and then do this.” Lisa began moving her feet in rhythm with the music.

One of the boys crossed the clearing to Lisa and paused beside her. Without saying anything, he placed what looked like a fat stick decorated in pictures at her side. He moved across from her to the men’s side of the dance line.

“No, Tom Hawk!” Lisa said. She picked it up and tossed it.

He retreated, frowning.

“What just happened?” Morgan asked, baffled.

“He’s been trying to ask me out for months,” the young teen said, rolling her eyes.

“It’s an old custom,” Ben explained. “When a boy wants to ask a girl out, he brings her a special stick and places it at her side. If she accepts him, she keeps the stick. If she doesn’t, she tosses it.”

“Some of us should’ve tossed ours,” his wife said calmly.

“Tell your daughters, so I don’t have to pay for any more weddings,” he advised.

Morgan laughed again. Ben’s wife smiled faintly.

“Okay, you gotta try it,” Lisa said. “Just, you know, bounce.”

Morgan slid off her four-inch heels then tugged her dress up, so she didn’t get tangled in the train. She made an attempt to bounce, but the combination of the changing pace of the drums and the coordinated foot movements soon defeated her.

Tom Hawk returned, though instead of bringing the stick to Lisa, he took it to Morgan. Lisa gasped, offense on her face.

Morgan looked down at where he’d placed it. He was closer to Lisa’s age of thirteen than he was to eighteen.

“Toss it. He’s used to rejection,” Ben advised.

“Oh, god, I don’t want to hurt his feelings,” she replied.

“No, Tom Hawk!” Lisa yelled. She bent and picked it up, tossing it. “She’s Beck’s!”

“Technically, I’m not, but thank you for the offer,” Morgan said to the boy.

He nodded glumly and moved away again.

Lisa tried again to show her how to dance, but Morgan couldn’t quite get it. The girl giggled and danced around her.

“Maybe just bounce in place?” she recommended. “That’s what the little kids do.”

Morgan flushed. Laughter went down the line of dancers and around Ben’s fire. The dance changed. Music grew quicker and the chanting became upbeat. The bride-and-groom joined the dancers, and Morgan stepped back, watching with a smile. Beck danced with Lisa then joined a circle dance while a queue of teens formed across from Morgan.

She didn’t think twice about them, until the first stepped forward with a stick he placed by her side.

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I’m sorta … well, I’m …”

The boys in line laughed, and she stopped, flustered.

“Toss it! We have a bet going!” one of them called to her.

She picked it up and tossed it a few feet away with an apologetic smile. The teen moved away, only to be replaced by a second. The adults were laughing, the girls giggling at Morgan’s stammering rejection. She hated the idea of hurting anyone, even the poor boys who wanted to ask her out.

“Oh, really?” Beck asked, standing to the side to observe. “My own cousins?”

They laughed again.

“She said she’s single,” Ben said. “They deserve a chance with her.”

“So sorry,” Morgan said and tossed another decorated stick.

“You going to accept any of them?” Beck joked. “Or are they all wasting their time?”

“Hmmm. I’m not sure yet,” she replied.

His gaze flew to hers, and he raised his eyebrows. Morgan smiled sweetly.

“Rejection is so stressful,” she added. “I might break down and say yes to someone.”

Beck studied her for a second. “Someone give me a damn stick.”

“Back of the line, Beck!” one of the boys teased.

He shook his head and strode away. Ben laughed hard. Morgan watched Beck, not expecting him to join in, and afraid of what happened if he did.

He went to the back of the line, and she realized just how serious he was. Morgan apologized and tossed four more sticks, until Beck approached her. He bent to place it beside her feet then straightened.

She stared at him, wishing her body didn’t respond the way it did whenever he was around. His gaze was steady but twinkling, as if he already knew what she’d decide. Nervous, uncertain, Morgan swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry, and she felt like running. If she let him in, she risked hurting them both.

“Why?” she forced herself to ask.

“Because I think we belong together,” he said then shifted. “I don’t know if I can protect you from the problems I have, and that terrifies me. Maybe it makes me weak. I don’t know, but the thought of not being with you scares me more.”

His heartfelt words struck her hard. He was right. She was scared. Trusting someone else with her thoughts, body and secrets. Since The Incident, she hadn’t done that, and she’d been so alone. Abruptly, she felt angry with her uncle. Even from across the country, he was controlling her, making her too afraid to trust herself or someone else, when she wanted to know what that felt like not to be alone. Even if for only a couple of weeks.