Dancing in the Dark

A slow, lazy firefly fluttered near the computer screen but she absently brushed it away. Crickets chirped, frogs haruumphed and the leaves in the apple trees rustled with every little breeze but her attention was on the words before her.

"It's almost dark."

She found his hand and twined her fingers through his. "Just one more page, that's all."

"But--"

"One...more...page..." With a sigh she snapped the laptop closed. Then she reached over and placed the computer on an empty chair. Turning her full attention to him, she smiled. "See? Just one more page."

"What were you reading?"

"Enduring Hope. I told you about it. Kara sent the story yesterday, remember?"

He snapped the fingers on his free hand. In the darkness the sound was like a shot. For an instant the bullfrogs stopped haruumphing. Then, they started again.

"Right, I remember now. Was it good?"

"Mmm hmm. I like her stories. This Orchard Hill series is interesting." Leaning back in her chair, she stared up at the sky. Stars, thousands of them. Her limbs felt liquid, tired and sun-warmed. "It's been a good week. I got the final edits for the book done. Read a great story. Even found time to row after dinner."

"And it's only Tuesday," he said, chuckling.

"Not so good for you, though." She turned and stared at his profile. The glittering stars cast pinpricks of dancing light on the water's surface, just enough so she could catch the outline of his face. Her gut tightened; she hated seeing him like this. "Oh, honey..."

"It's nothing." He waved a hand through the night air. "Really, nothing."

"But your nose..."

"Ah, it's just a nose. They get broken all the time." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "It'll be good as new before you know it. Hey, where are your sneakers?" He leaned forward, looking around on the wooden decking beneath them.

She nodded to the rowboat tied to the edge of the floating dock. "In the boat. Why?"

He shrugged. "I just wondered if you'd need them."

"For?" A smile tugged her lips upward. She knew what he was hinting at but wanted to hear him ask. The almost-nightly ritual.

"Dancing. Ah, but maybe you're too tired to dance," he teased.

"Never too tired to dance with you. But..."

"Hmm?" His brows furrowed, pulling the skin above his nose into a tight vee. "But what?"

She grinned. "I just thought..."

"Thought what?"

"That maybe you can't dance tonight." She stood. Her body instantly found its balance on the floating platform. "With that wounded nose, and all. I mean, you're kind of broken. Aren't you?"

He pulled her into his arms. She melted into him naturally, her soft lines meeting his hard, muscular form. They began to gently sway. Then, they took a few small steps, mindful of the cold pond water just beyond the edges of their dance floor.

"I could never be too broken to dance with you, darling." He kissed her temple, then pulled her closer. He gave her a quick twirl. "Never."