Doing It Over (Most Likely To #1)(28)

He turned her around and noticed Jo watching from the sidelines. “I could have used my roadside rescue skills as an excuse.”

“You could have just asked.”

“You could have said no.” He liked his deck stacked, thank you very much.

“I could have said yes.”

He leaned back slightly and looked in her eyes. Her smiling eyes.

“You could have.” He turned her again, happy to feel her follow his lead. “Now that you know I won’t trample your feet, you’re much more likely to agree to future dances.”

She kept her eyes on his. “Is that confidence or cockiness?”

“Both. I can dance, no need to pretend I can’t.”

“Not that you get a lot of practice in River Bend.”

Wyatt turned her again, this time moving her away with a push and spinning her once before bringing her back. “You’d be surprised. Fourth of July is always a celebration. Founder’s Day. Every holiday has some kind of festival . . . or have you forgotten?”

He kept her moving while they talked. He scented lemon on her skin and committed it to memory.

“And how many women in River Bend have you shown your talents to?” she asked.

“My talents?”

She blushed. “Dancing talents?” She pushed against his shoulder. “I already know you don’t date the women in town.”

“Is that right? How would you know that?”

When she glanced over his shoulder, he pulled her closer. The sheer fabric of her dress nothing but a thin layer between them. He had to give serious thought to their conversation.

“Jo told me.”

“Oh, so you’re asking your friends about me?”

“Of course. You’re hitting on me. I have to make sure you’re really not Jack the Ripper.”

“Not a lot of prostitutes in River Bend. I’d be out of business if my name was Jack.”

He took pleasure in making Melanie laugh.

The song ended, along with their dance. His hand held the small of her back as they made their way off the dance floor.

No sooner had he wrapped his hand around his beer when Zoe grabbed his arm. “So, Wyatt . . . about that dance you owe me.”

“What dance?” He heard Melanie’s words coming from his mouth.

“This one.” Zoe dragged him away from their group. The music had turned fast, but Zoe pushed close enough to talk. “Melanie is one of my best friends,” Zoe stated the obvious.

Wyatt felt the inquisition beginning and let it roll. “You seem tight.”

“We are. But I have to tell ya, I kick myself all the time for not telling her what a shit her ex was.”

“You met him?”

“Once. Between that and Mel’s stories . . . he’s a shit.”

They moved beside each other, not touching, and not keeping beat with the music.

“Well—”

Zoe didn’t give him time to talk.

“I won’t do it again. If I see any red flags, I’m going to speak up.”

“I’m sure—”

“She’s sensitive.” Zoe kept looking over his shoulder.

“I—”

“And vulnerable.”

Instead of trying to comment, Wyatt nodded.

“I think she needs this reset, and hooking up with a guy who only wants to use her and toss her away again is going to screw her up.”

Wyatt stopped dancing and Zoe’s eyes met his. On some level he knew Zoe was just looking out for her friend, but she’d all but accused him of being an *.

“Oh, jeez, I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?”

He knew better than to answer that.

“I’m sorry . . . it’s just, I’m leaving in a couple of days and won’t be here to kick your ass if you screw her up.”

“Kick my ass?” He felt his lips lifting despite the conversation.

“I’m tougher than I look,” she said in defense.

Wyatt glanced over his shoulder and caught eyes watching them. Then he moved a little closer to Zoe and said in her ear, “Melanie’s stronger than she looks, too. Give the woman a little more credit.”

Instead of continuing to move on the dance floor, Wyatt led Zoe away by her elbow.

This time, she leaned in and whispered, “I will come back and kick it if I have to.”





“That shit is funny right there!” Luke stood with his hands on his hips, a wide grin over his face.

Zoe held her stomach, laughing hard.

Melanie bit her bottom lip as giggles kept erupting without her control. Every time she glanced toward the hot steam coming off Jo’s face, her laughter was harder to hold back.

Morning fog blanketed the mess as the sun started a slow rise on the horizon.

As the tired houses of River Bend woke, so did the crowd surrounding Jo’s home.

Squeaky brakes stopped a car and a whistle preceded the obvious comment. “That’s quite a mess you have there, Sheriff.”

Before Mel turned around to see who was talking, a half-used roll of toilet paper gave up its battle of hanging from a high branch of the maple tree and fell to the ground.

Zoe lost it once again and Jo grumbled.

Sheets of white toilet paper draped over every possible surface of Jo’s house. The masters of TPing a house had placed rolls on the end of a broom and used it to fling tissue forty feet up into the pine and maple trees. Even Jo’s squad car didn’t go unscathed.