Chapter 23

The next day, Steve was waiting outside Diana’s classroom as the final bell rang. She smiled when she saw him, and he returned it with a crooked grin.

“Say you’ll go with me to the End of Summer Dance,” he said. “And before you answer—I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“I’ve heard about it,” Diana replied. “But I don’t know how to square-dance. Aren’t the chaperones supposed to be instructors?”

She pushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I can teach you. It’s easy. The caller tells you what to do—you just follow along.”

He extended his hand toward her, palm up.

“You mean ... now?”

“The gym’s already set up for couples to practice. No time like the present,” he said with a teasing glint in his eye. “It’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know...” Diana stared down at the floor, trying to hide the warmth rising in her cheeks. The chance to spend more time with this relaxed, smiling version of Steve made her want to say yes. But the idea of tripping over her own feet in front of the entire school?

Still ... the thought of spending the evening at home, wondering who Steve might be dancing with instead, was worse. A vivid mental image of Georgina draped all over him popped into her mind, and her stomach twisted.

“Okay, okay,” she said, placing her hand in his. “Let’s do it.”

For the sixth time in under twenty minutes, Diana stepped the wrong way and threw off the entire line. Steve gave her a patient smile and extended his hand again. The other couples, all far more coordinated, offered her sympathetic nods as they reset.

“Golden Slippers” played on repeat from the CD player Irv the Pig had propped up on a wobbly table in the corner.

Every pair seemed to have their steps memorized—except for Steve and Diana. And to be fair, the fumbling wasn’t Steve’s fault.

Diana avoided his eyes, her smile faltering. She felt foolish. Square-dancing wasn’t rocket science—so why couldn’t she get it right? And how was she supposed to teach these steps to students if she couldn’t even do them herself?

Steve deserved someone who matched his stride. Someone graceful. Someone like Peggy. Diana had no business entertaining the feelings bubbling up in her chest—but she couldn’t stop. Even when Steve got overprotective, it wasn’t suffocating. It felt ... safe. Cherished, even.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, reaching over to squeeze her shoulder. “You’ve got a serious brow furrow going on.”

“I’m not going to get the moves down by tonight,” she muttered, hanging her head. “Wouldn’t you rather dance with someone else?”

Steve gently lifted her chin until their eyes met. “I don’t want to dance with someone else,” he said softly. “I want to dance with you.”

Diana swallowed hard. “Maybe you should dance with Georgina instead.”

Even saying it made her chest ache. Georgina could probably square-dance in her sleep.

Steve’s lips twitched. “Maybe not.”

Diana stepped back. “It might actually be good for her. I overheard some kids at the market being awful about her. They respect you—if they saw you with her, maybe they’d treat her better.”

Why was she doing this? Shoving a good man into the arms of another woman just to avoid the risk of caring too much?

Steve shook his head, drawing in a deep breath. “Maybe I would, if I were wired differently. But I can’t dance with someone unless I feel something for them. Call me old-fashioned, but even holding hands—it means something to me. I don’t do it casually.”

Diana slid her hand into his, tentative but willing. “But ... we’ve already been dancing. So what’s the difference?”

He simply raised his eyebrows and gave her a look.

She blushed. “Okay. Point taken.”

“Do you know what your problem is?” he asked gently.

“Please, enlighten me.”

“You keep watching the other girls around you. Then you look at your own feet, trying to match them, and the second you do that, you’re out of time.”

She sighed. “Then what am I supposed to do? I don’t want to make a fool of myself tonight.”

He extended both hands, palms up. “I know the dance. Trust that I can lead you. Can you do that? Can you trust me?”

She hesitated. He had no idea what he was asking. Trusting a man—really trusting—was a mountain for her. But when she looked into Steve’s eyes, she felt the ground steady beneath her feet.

“I do,” she whispered.

“Then keep your eyes on me the whole time,” he said. “Forget everyone else. I promise, everything else will follow.”