No wonder he and Amy were so perfect for each other. Amy gave new meaning to the term full steam ahead. She turned her face to meet his eyes. “But you’re not like that. You’re more of a wade-in-slowly kind of guy.” If their relationship moved much slower, they’d be going backward.

He tipped his head, considering. “I guess I am. Wasn’t always that way, but I suppose I’ve gotten more cautious with age.”

“That makes you sound old, but you’re only, what, thirty-one? Thirty-two?”

He guided them around a couple who looked brand-new to the world of country-western dance, staring at their feet’s stiff, boxy moves and counting the steps aloud. “I’m thirty-three.”

“Still too young to be cautious.”

His expression turned teasing. “I know it’s taboo to mention a lady’s age, but pardon me if I have trouble taking aging advice from someone who hasn’t even hit thirty yet.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t let on that I only just turned twenty-four in June.” He got quiet, probably doing what everybody else did when they realized how young she was. She beat him to the punch. “I had Tommy when I was nineteen.”

He was gentlemanly enough to mask his shock, but not before his eyebrows flickered up.

“I know, so young.” With a flippant wave of her hand, she smiled warmly to let him know it was okay for him to be shocked. She’d been pretty darn shocked when she first found out too. “I guess I’m way too fertile for my own good.”

Matt’s shoulders stiffened. “Most people are.”

What an odd comeback. In all the times she’d made that same joke about her pregnancy, she’d never heard a response quite like that. She was in the process of formulating a question, when, without breaking his impeccable rhythm, Matt added pressure to the hand at her waist, her cue that they were about to get fancy with their dancing.

Bring it, she thought as he lifted the hand she held, then expertly partnered her through a triple spin into a reverse that flitted the questions from her mind. She nearly laughed with the giddiness brought on by the complicated steps and the deftness of his execution. Now this was how dancing was supposed to be.

Breathless, she met him in closed hold once more. His hand slipped to her back with the control of a man who’d spun a lot of women around the dance floor in his day.

She shoved the petty thought aside. After all, she’d been spun around the dance floor plenty of times by plenty of men. And she refused to hold anyone else to their pasts, when she hated that she couldn’t escape her own.

“I didn’t know you could dance like this,” she asked.

His cocky, lopsided smile sent a flash of heat through her. “One of my many secrets.”

Before she could respond to such a baiting remark, he spun her in a double turn that twisted into a side-by-side shadow hold. Swinging her chin over her shoulder, she met his warm, confident gaze. Hot damn, this man lit her fire.

With a wink that told her he knew exactly how good a dancer he was, he launched them into windmills and reverses. A bit flashy given the prying eyes surrounding them, but it satisfied her womanly sensibilities that he was showing off for her. It would be nice for a change to have the good folks of Catcher Creek spreading rumors about her for something other than her days as a wild youth or the identity of Tommy’s missing father.

When they’d returned to closed hold, Jenna shook her hair back and pinned Matt with her most flirtatious eyes. “You can’t lay down a challenge like that and expect me not to take it up.”

“What challenge? Are you trying to say that you think you can best me in a dance-off?” He scoffed. “I’d like to see the day.”

The dare had her tsking good-naturedly. “That’s not what I meant, though I have no doubt that in a dance-off, I’d shine the floor with your ass.”

Continuing with a basic 1-2-3 around the floor, he laughed through his nose, his eyes twinkling. “You talk a big game, darlin’. Makes me concerned about what other challenge you think I’ve laid down for you.”

The song ended and they slowed to a stop on the outer edge of the floor. People moved around them as a new song, a faster song, picked up pace. She traced the edge of his chiseled shoulder muscle below his chambray shirt. This is how it would be between them if they were a couple—smooth and romantic, like the waltz.

She moved her fingertips from his shoulder to his jaw. “Matt Roenick, one of these days you’re going to tell me all your secrets.”

He swallowed and his gaze dipped to her lips, so she angled them up, parting them, closing her eyes. All he had to do was lower a few inches and she’d finally—finally—know what his mouth felt like on hers. Didn’t matter that they were surrounded by people. She’d waited eight long months for this.

Come on, Matt. Kiss me already.