Lauri Robinson - The Rebel Daughter

Her stomach fell, along with her eyelids when he turned his somewhat regretful gaze back to her father.

A thundering laugh snapped her eyes open. Her father slapped Forrest’s shoulder playfully. “You never could say no to my daughters any more than I could.”

Forrest chuckled, too. “That was true.”

Twyla picked up on the was and Forrest’s tone.

Her father however, laughed again. “That may be the downfall of us both.”

Forrest turned to her again and a glimmer of a smile crossed his lips before he said, “Or it could be a crutch, which—” he turned back to her father “—isn’t always a bad thing. A crutch can allow a man to walk when he otherwise couldn’t.”

Twyla caught a double meaning behind his statement but couldn’t fathom what it was.

“Ain’t that the truth,” her father said. “Go on. You two hit the dance floor. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“All right,” Forrest said. “I do look forward to talking with you.”

“But not as much as you look forward to dancing.” Her father laughed again as he waved a hand toward the door. He’d become more of his jovial self the past couple of days, and the broad smile on his face was a welcome sight.

That was the other thing Twyla didn’t want to see change. Over the past couple of weeks, her father had been overly worried. She assumed Ginger running off to Chicago was a part of it, but believed more of it had to do with the hoodlum Ty had been chasing. She never tried to fool herself into believing that her father’s business wasn’t a dangerous one. Lucrative, but dangerous. Twyla also understood it could all end, too. The money, the parties. Nothing was forever, but there were things she’d fight tooth and nail to not lose.

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said, and meant it. She gave Forrest another hard tug.

He followed this time, and she wasted no time in pulling him through the doorway.

Slim was playing the piano and doing a good job of it. Twyla led Forrest past the few couples already on the dance floor, not stopping until they reached the center. She’d never been nervous around Forrest, yet for the briefest of moments her stomach fluttered and hiccupped as they stood looking at each other. A crazy thought dashed across her mind. What if Norma Rose was still in love with him? Her sister acted as if Ty was the only man she had eyes for, but she’d proclaimed to have loved Forrest at one time. And he was just as handsome as Ty, if not more so.

Keeping Forrest away from Norma Rose would be easier—much easier—than keeping Norma Rose away from Forrest. Dealing with gangsters was easier than dealing with Norma Rose when she set her mind to something.

“Shall we?” Forrest asked, holding out his hands.

Twyla swallowed and cleared her mind. Norma Rose was in love with Ty, not Forrest, but that didn’t mean Forrest couldn’t ruin everything. That’s what she needed to remember. Reaching out, she pressed one hand against one of his and laid her other on his shoulder.

“We shall,” she said. “Lead the way.” Eyeing his brown eyes critically, she added, “Unless you’d prefer I lead.”

His fingers folded over hers as his other hand grasped her waist firmly and tugged her close. “I prefer to lead.”

Catching the breath his touch had momentarily stolen, she followed his side step and backward glide. “Oh? Do you always get what you prefer?”

“Yes, since I took control of my life.”

“By becoming a flyboy?” she asked. It had intrigued her that he flew airplanes. It irritated her, too. Thinking about the adventures he’d had while she’d been locked in her bedroom. Yet she kept her thoughts from going there. He’d gone on to become a flyboy after ruining her sister’s life, which had now been saved, no thanks to him. Norma Rose deserved every ounce of happiness she found with Ty. They all deserved the happiness they were finding, and the adventures. Oh, yes, the adventures. She’d soon have more of those than him. Airplane or not.

“Among other things,” he said, guiding her in a swift twirl beneath their clutched hands. When she ended her spin and faced him, he added, “Life either bests you, or you best it. That’s a lesson you’ve yet to learn, Twyla, my dear.”

“Well, Forrest, my dear ,” she said, spinning again. “I’ve already learned that.”

“Have you?” he asked, pulling her close before shuffling her sideways across the floor in a fast two-step.

“Indeed I have.”

He laughed, a sound that tickled her insides. Or perhaps it was the dancing, the gaiety surrounding them, as other dancers sashayed around and across the floor. Then again, it just might be that he thought he was going to win the game of wits they were playing. That was a delusion on his part.

Twyla laughed, too.

Leading her back two steps and then sideways, he said, “Aw, Twyla, indeed you have not.”

There was so much more meaning behind his statement, her feet faltered, and if not for Forrest she would have tripped and fallen all the way to the floor. His hold increased, keeping her upright and dancing.

Peeved by both his hold and his attitude, Twyla planted her heels on the dance floor, bringing them both to a stop. To her dismay, the music stopped at that exact same moment. She chose to consider the timing as luck. She’d been about to tell him the game hadn’t even started yet, this one that he’d challenged her to, and was thankful she hadn’t spoken those words. They’d have carried loudly through the silent room, and she certainly didn’t want anyone else to know about the game they’d always secretly played.

Forrest merely lifted a brow.

She repeated the action, but added a glare. It was time for him to realize she had grown up and taken control of her own life.

And she would win. Even if that just meant keeping him from talking to her father tonight.

The music started again and, more determined than ever, Twyla took the lead this time, initiating footsteps that had Forrest hopping to keep up. She loved having the upper hand, being in control, and Forrest had best learn to move a whole heap faster or he’d be trampled in her wake.

Packed with couples, the dance floor vibrated beneath her feet. She laughed again and kicked her heels higher as she pushed Forrest backward and pulled him forward. He was keeping up, and that kept her moving faster and bolder, stepping so close her body almost touched his before they separated again.

Her temperature rose with each step, and her heart thudded, pumping blood that tingled with excitement to every inch of her body. This was Twyla Nightingale in full bloom. The fact she was kicking up her heels with the best-looking man for miles around increased the thrill of it all.

When the music stopped she was slightly winded, but so was Forrest. Still holding both of her hands, he tugged her toward the edge of the wooden floor, where there was a line of tables.

“Oh, no,” she said, holding her ground by pressing her feet onto the floor. “We aren’t done yet.”

“I have to get out of this suit coat,” he said.

“Not now, Slim’s about to hit the keys again.”

She’d no sooner spoken than notes rang through the air. Dancers cheered, recognizing the ragtime tune that would have people dancing fast and wild, exchanging partners after no more than a couple of twirls.

Forrest hooked her waist and danced her to the edge of the floor, where he released her after a twirl that ended when another man grabbed her waist and danced her back in the other direction. Twisting to keep one eye on Forrest, she watched him toss his suit coat and tie over the back of an empty chair and then grab a woman, dancing deep into the crowd.

Twirling from one man to the next, Twyla tried to find Forrest. He was taller than several others and should be easy to spot, but the constant spinning didn’t give her vision time to focus. The men all looked alike. Without his blue suit coat his white shirt and suspenders blended in with all the others.