Hank stroked her lush reddish-brown locks off her shoulder and said, “The only one we’re trying to charm is you…Nika.”
Her eyelids slid closed and she bit her lip. “I love the way that sounds coming from your lips.”
“We like it, too,” Hank murmured. He glanced around at the club patrons surrounding them and happened to catch Grace’s eye. She pressed her lips together to keep from grinning from ear to ear, but her eyes twinkled and she winked at him before turning away.
Another song began to play and all the girls climbed from their chairs, with Grace leading the way. She turned and waved at Veronica and then gestured at Hank and pointed at Veronica.
Hank chuckled and said, “Travis, Veronica, I’d like to introduce you to a tradition at the Dancing Pony. It’s known as the girls’ dance, and Nika, you’ve just been invited to join the girls on the dance floor.”
A look of horror passed over Veronica’s face and she shook her head. “That’s not a good idea. I’ll pass.”
Hank had always—always sympathized with the exasperation that some of the men in Divine suffered over these girls’ dances. Seeing it from a law enforcement officer’s standpoint, these dances were like waving a red cape in front of a bull—it was only a matter of time before someone got hurt.
When he was around for the dances, he always made sure, like the bouncers did, that each of the ladies was safely back with the man—or men—she came in the club with. It didn’t matter that he was off duty. He couldn’t stand the thought of any woman getting hurt and he’d always do whatever he could to keep that from happening. The fact that women kept running into harrowing circumstances in his fair town was the cause of the silver that had been infiltrating his formerly black hair over the last few years.
Well, that and age, Hank. You aren’t getting any younger.
But tonight, he felt differently. He wanted to see Veronica have a good time, but he should’ve known better. Not only was she not going out there, it was written all over her face—No way, no how am I going out there.
“That’s all right, Nika,” Hank said, his tone consoling as he brushed his lips against her temple. Her gaze followed the group as even Grandma Kate shook her tail feathers and the sad smile on her face and the way her eyes got shiny made his throat swell in empathy. She wanted to dance. Badly. But something was stopping her.
“You don’t like to dance?”
“I don’t know how. Or rather, I learned but I’m no good at it.”
“Who taught you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” She chewed her lip and looked about the club, her eyes not settling anywhere in particular. She slumped her shoulders and wrapped her arms around herself, losing the connection between him and Travis.
“Fair enough. Look at me,” he said softly. Her eyes turned up to his, her expression apologetic. Her gaze immediately flitted away before turning to him and then shifting again. He stroked his thumb gently across her chin and said, “I hope sometime you’ll trust us enough to tell us why that upsets you, Nika.” He didn’t push her, just waited for her response. Her lower lip trembled under his thumb and she finally nodded.
Travis trailed a hand lightly over her hair. “You can trust us.”
Her gaze fled again. “I should go home. It’s late and I need to work on my notes from tonight.”
Hank exchanged a glance with Travis and gave him a brief nod. Moments before, she’d been trembling and aroused. Now she was stiff and near tears. “Sure. I’ll let Jack know we’re leaving.”
“I’m sorry, guys.”
She apologized several more times in the truck on the way out to the Divine Creek Ranch. They’d reassured her just as many times. With each stilted attempt at conversation by the men, she seemed more and more withdrawn. Hank became more determined to find the cause of her anxiety as the minutes past.
* * * *
Hank parked the truck in front of the house and Veronica reached into her clutch for the key. Feeling guilty for being such a baby, Veronica opened her mouth to speak but Hank cut her off. “Please don’t apologize again, Nika.”
Hearing the endearment in his husky voice made her feel worse about the emergency jettison of the evening. “Okay.”
Hank pulled the keys from the ignition and then gazed at her as he rested his arm on the seat behind her head. “Are you sorry for ending the evening or are you rethinking ending the evening?”
Travis leaned in on her other side. “Good question, Hank, because I’m flexible here.”
Smiling in appreciation that Hank was that intuitive, and Travis’s attempt at humor, she decided truth—or at least as much as she felt comfortable sharing—was the best thing to offer.