“How old is Charity?” Lee asked.
“Early twenties,” Rosalie said. “She goes to college. I just meant I could stay out until nine or so pretty easily.”
“Oh, I see,” Lee said, his voice taking on a flirtatious quality. “You’re trying to kill me on the second date.”
Rosalie shouldered her purse and grinned at him. “Kill you? How would I do that, Handsome?”
His eyebrows went up, and Rosalie’s anxiety jumped with it. “Handsome?”
“Before I knew your name,” she said. “That’s what I called you in my head.” She shrugged, thinking of last week when he’d come by acting like he’d sat in a pile of burrs and it was all her fault. “And maybe after for a minute or two.”
Lee simply stood there, staring. Rosalie didn’t want to spend her afternoon doing this. She needed an escape from the walls of this place, where she spent so much of her time.
She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way. “Come on, Handsome. I’m playing hooky and you’re off your farm. Let’s see what this afternoon has for us outside these walls.” She moved into him and deliberately laced her hands through his. “You do have a plan, right?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice almost a croak. “There happens to be something going on at The Southern Bakery this afternoon.”
“Something?” Rosalie teased, gently turning Lee toward the exit. “Like, us sitting down with pastries and coffee something? Or a dance party something? Or what’s this ‘something’ exactly?”
Lee moved on wooden legs for a couple of steps, and then he seemed to melt. “Do I look like the type of man to attend a dance party?”
“Not on a Monday afternoon,” Rosalie teased. They stepped outside, and she turned back to lock the door behind her. When she turned, Lee stood right there. He reached up, following his fingers with his eyes, and moved his hand down the side of her face.
“I can dance,” he said. “My mama taught me. She said all women in Texas expect a man who can dance.” He gave her a soft, gentle smile as he spoke of his mama. That alone made Rosalie forgive his tardiness and all of his silence from last week. “I can show you at the wedding.”
“Promise?” she whispered, leaning into his touch when he neared her jaw.
“Yes,” he said.
She nodded and held herself upright. “All right then. What’s going on at The Southern Bakery this afternoon?”