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.
As the music briefly paused, signaling it was time to swap partners again, Twyla was spun into another man’s arms. Without noticing who her partner was, she twisted her neck, searching the crowd.
“He’s right behind you.”
Twyla snapped around.
“Forrest is right behind you,” Ty said while shuffling her slightly sideways. “Dancing with Norma Rose.”
Twyla’s stomach fell.
* * *
Forrest willed his hands to rest loosely upon Norma Rose. A part of him wanted to hug her, tell her how deeply sorry he was for what Galen had put her through. Dancing with Twyla had reminded him of all he’d left behind, and how badly things had eaten at him over the years. Especially during those first few months while he’d been incapacitated, healing from the wounds caused by his stepfather.
No one had been safe from Galen.
Forrest had attempted to apologize to Norma Rose a year after he’d left, when he’d been able to walk again, but a car accident had stopped his efforts. Two weeks ago, when Norma Rose called asking to hire Slim for the parties, he’d broached the subject by telling her he’d tried to stop Galen’s allegations, but she’d said his sentiments were a little late. She was wrong. They weren’t just sentiments, and it was never too late. Not for some things.
“This is some shindig,” he said, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Slim stopped the music for everyone to switch partners again. “You outdid yourself.”
She shook her head. “I can’t take any of the credit. This party was all Twyla and Josie.”
“You’re too