Easier said than done. Charity had been so used to shunning guys that she didn’t know how to be seductive and would most likely look foolish. She’d watched romance movies and read enough novels that she ought to have some idea of how to attract a man. But those stories were always set in cities with smart, powerful heroines who wore tight-fitting dresses and high heels. They had long nails—proof they didn’t have to do manual labor for a living. Charity had none of those things,wasnone of those things.
“What if I’m not his type? He probably likes sophisticated women.”
Zia waved a corn cob in her direction. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re prettier than most women without taking half the effort. Plus, you have the whole sweet and wholesome thing going for you. Men find that irresistible.”
“He’s done a fair job of resisting so far.”
“He’s probably just concentrating on his job and ignoring female distractions because he wants to prove to the family that he’s a hard worker. I bet things will be different at the next dance.”
At the end of every month, the harvesters held a party and a dance with other co-ops working in the area. Food and a chance to mingle usually ensured the events were well-attended. Moonshine always appeared, and the farmers turned a blind eye as long as the celebrating didn’t get out of hand.
The co-op leaders would sit around and exchange information about the farmers they worked for, nearby markets, and news about the breakaway states. Technically, the government considered it treason to travel to a breakaway state to work. They blocked phone service to those parts of the county, which made it hard to contact anyone there, but sometimes the wages those states offered made crossing borders worth it. Then the co-op leaders would discuss which passages were the safest and had the fewest patrols.
The idea of dancing with Enzo was a welcome thought. The evening would glow with the light of fires burning in braziers while the scent of food wafted over the area. Her parents served fresh bread, cookies, whatever crop had just been picked, and if the farmer was generous, a barbeque. Music drifted across the night, inviting everyone to come together.
Should she ask him to dance? Wait for him to ask her?
She pictured him sauntering toward her, his dark eyes focused and intent, a smile playing on his lips. Then she realized the problem with the scenario. “He probably just knows city dances. I don’t know any of those.”
Truth serum had changed the way people danced. Touching strangers now had an element of risk to it. Harvesters usually either did line dances or a modified type of square dancing where only people’s arms touched as they hooked elbows and swung around. With long sleeves, that sort of touching wasn’t an issue.
City dwellers had gone the other direction. They’d revived the waltz and the swing as though to show that dancing was more fun if it worried your parents. Women usually wore gloves, sleek and soft as butter, but some liked the risk. Those types of dances would be the ones Enzo knew.
Charity stifled a groan. She’d never learned them because she liked having a built-in excuse not to dance them with strangers. “I don’t know the waltz or swing. Even if he asks me, I won’t be able to dance with him.”
“I can teach you,” Zia said. “They aren’t that hard. The fancier moves take more time to learn, but you have plenty of time for the basics.”
“I could look for some dancing gloves at the next market,” Charity agreed.
And that was how she found herself that evening with Zia in the patch of grass between the corn fields and the apple orchards. Dinner had ended and most people were rotating through the showers and relaxing in the bunkhouses. The place was empty.
Zia brought her phone, a newer model than Charity’s, with a playlist of songs for swing and waltz. She tucked it into a tree branch and taught Charity the basic steps for both dances. Thatwas the easy part. The difficult part was doing them with another person attached to you.
The two whirled around, clumsy and laughing, counting the beats out loud. Zia had a hard time because she wasn’t used to dancing the men’s role. Charity had a hard time because she had to worry about Zia’s feet as well as her own.
After an hour of this, Zia said, “You’ve got the idea. You just need to practice so you can do the steps without having to think about it. You’re going to want to carry on a conversation, not endlessly repeat, ‘one, two, three’.”
“When will I have time to practice this?”
“Right now. I’ll leave my phone so you can work on it. I’d better go. Milo won’t get ready for bed unless I’m back.” She smiled as though she thought his protectiveness was sweet.
An entire world of “coupleness” existed that Charity knew nothing about.
She glided around the grass, arms raised in position, and wondered if Enzo would be the protective sort. Probably. He’d already been willing to take on the whole co-op in order to free Callum. He would make sure his wife was safe. She liked that idea, liked the thought of him waiting up for her.
One day they’d have a bunkhouse of their own. Enzo would smile at her, take her by the hand, and pull her close for a kiss. It wasn’t real, not yet, but she shut her eyes, lingering in the happiness of the idea. There would be many moments like those to look forward to. His arms wrapped around her, his lips on hers…
She wasn’t sure what made her eyes flick open. She’d been listening to the music so intently she hadn’t heard approaching footsteps.
Enzo stood by the corn rows, head cocked, watching her.
Her arms dropped to her side, her feet stilled, and she had to remind herself that he couldn’t read her thoughts. He didn’tknow she’d been imagining kissing him. The music continued behind her, sounding too loud.
“You don’t need to stop on my account,” Enzo said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you from … whatever you’re doing.”
Yeah. She had to come up with an explanation as to why she was dancing around by herself. Preferably something that didn’t make her look insane.
Enzo gestured mildly in her direction, a smirk on the corner of his lips. “Is this some ritual? Harvesters dance in the evening to encourage crop growth?”