Julie Benson - Bet on a Cowboy

“Just remember in the future not to share my personal information without asking me. Now let’s drop the subject and have some fun.”

His jaw relaxed. The sparkle returned to his eye. Dizzy from his abrupt shift, Maggie had no idea how to respond, or what had caused his instant turn around.

Griffin stood and held out his hand. “Let’s dance.”

She glanced at the bodies moving in synchronicity on the wooden floor. No way could she execute those precision steps. The last time she’d line danced was at home, before she headed for NYU, and she’d been lousy then. “It’s been years since I’ve done this. The moves have changed a lot.”

“Then you’re in luck, because I’m an excellent teacher.”

Now that she believed.

“People who have two left feet dance better than I do.”

“Trust me.”

His husky voice reached deep inside her, evaporating any fear of embarrassment. He looked at her in a way no man ever had, as if he truly cared about her. As a woman.

She’d be seeing purple giraffes any time now.

He was simply being nice. A gentleman. There was nothing more to his actions, but maybe for tonight she could pretend. Maggie placed her hand in his callused one and stood.

Big mistake.

Her pulse quickened. Her world spun, and she’d only touched his hand. Lord help her if the band played a slow song and Griffin put his arms around her. She’d probably spontaneously combust.

On the dance floor, she tried to follow Griffin’s moves. She scooted right, then left, tapping her heels and toes, usually seconds after everyone else. Finally thinking that she might pull this off without too much embarrassment, she zigged when she should’ve zagged, and tromped on Griffin’s right foot. “I’m sorry. Let’s sit—”

“I’m fine. Maggie girl, just keep moving and have fun.”

After two rousing line dances, the band played a slow ballad. The gentle strains about a cowboy and his lost love flowed over her. She stared into Griffin’s mesmerizing eyes. He’d say they should take a breather. Get a drink. Go to the restroom, or some other excuse to leave the dance floor. She knew the drill, because that’s what happened with other men whenever the music slowed down.

Instead, Griffin placed his hand on her back, leaving her shocked and thrilled. He stepped closer. She inhaled deeply and his earthy scent filled her. She’d died and gone to heaven.

Please don’t let me step on his toes again. I can’t bear to spoil this moment.

As Griffin glided her around the dance floor, for the first time in her life Maggie felt graceful. His attention focused on her. He wasn’t glancing around the room to trade up. She could get lost in this man, and not care if anyone ever looked for her.

Stop this. You work together. Nothing but disaster can come from thoughts like that.

And at the end of the season he would propose to another woman.

She never should’ve danced with him. She should’ve said she had a migraine. Or a raging toothache. A sudden case of the flu. Anything to avoid being in his arms. How would she ever watch him flirt with other women? Watch him hold the bachelorettes and kiss them? She’d never before wanted to trade places with the women on her show, but now she found herself eager to do just that.

Knowing all of those reasons why she shouldn’t have danced with him, Maggie wouldn’t have given up the experience for anything.

But now the ball was almost over, and she had to think of Griffin like every other bachelor she’d worked with in the last six years. But how?

She’d need a fairy godmother’s intervention to pull off that trick.

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