Knitted Hearts by Amber Kelly

February

Sonia

“Come on. If I have to go, so do you,” Charlotte commands as she grabs my hand and pulls me from my seat.

“Technically, I’m still a married woman,” I protest as she drags me toward the dance floor.

“Semantics,” she says.

“No, it’s a fact,” I insist.

“Well, I’m not going to be the only one standing up there, so fact or not, you’re doing it.”

“You won’t be. See, Truett’s date is coming.”

I point to where Foster and Truett’s cousin, Katlynn, is approaching the dance floor.

Charlotte glances her way and scowls.

“So are you.” She continues to tug at my arm.

“Ugh, fine,” I relent as I wrench my elbow from her clasp.

We reach the dance floor, and I take the spot beside her. The three of us are the lone victims of this wedding tradition.

Elle glances over her shoulder, and her eyes glitter with amusement as she winks at the three of us. Then, she raises the bouquet above her head and tosses it with all she has.

Charlotte darts her hands out and pushes me forward in an attempt to make me catch the offending omen. I let out a yelp as I lose my balance and my knees buckle under me. I throw my hands out to stop myself from crashing face-first into the wood planks below.

Charlotte realizes her linebacker move was a little too aggressive and hurries to try to catch me.

We end up in a pile of twisted dresses and limbs with Elle’s bouquet lying four inches to the left of our wreckage and all of the wedding guests’ eyes on us.

“It’s a draw! I say, we have them wrestle for it,” Walker yells.

“I second that. They should mud wrestle,” Truett adds.

Payne parts the onlookers to come to our aid and reaches and lifts Charlotte off of me.

As I struggle to stand, a hand extends out to me, and I look up to see Foster’s charming face smiling down at me.

I blow the hair that has escaped from my chignon from my eyes and groan.

Great.

I take his offered hand, and he helps me to my feet before picking up the stupid bouquet and trying to pass it to me.

“Oh no. I didn’t want it in the first place,” I protest.

He buries his nose in the flowers and inhales. “Sweet,” he acknowledges, “just like you. You should keep it.”

I shake my head. “I don’t need that wedding voodoo working on me. I’ve made that mistake once.”

“You believe in superstitions, huh?” he asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Elle caught the bouquet at my wedding, and look what happened,” I point out.

His eyes slide to the front of the tent, where Walker is coaxing Elle onto a stool so he can remove her garter.

“You’re right. The immense joy looks awful on her,” he muses.

I sigh.

Elle is beaming with happiness. The entire day, although a little unconventional, has been nothing but filled with euphoria and seeing my best friend so in love does bring me great joy.

“She is pretty lucky. Walker might be a mess, but he’s got a heart of gold, and he loves her like crazy,” I agree.

“And you wouldn’t want that, would you?” he states.

I turn back to face him. “Of course not. I’m more the heartless-mess magnet myself.”

He doesn’t laugh; he just watches me. Then, he walks the bouquet over to his cousin, hands it to her, and turns back to me.

“There. The voodoo is hers to deal with,” he calls before lining up with the other bachelors to watch Walker get handsy with his new bride.

Truett catches the garter, and he looks at his date, Katlynn, who is also his cousin, who is holding the bouquet. He instantly tosses it back to Walker, who wraps it around his bicep before scooping Elle up into his arms and twirling her around as the music begins.

“He hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night.”

I start at the sound of Bellamy’s voice in my ear.

“Who?” I ask.

“Who do you think? Foster.”

“Yes, he has,” I disagree.

“Not for very long.”

I shrug.

“You know, he’s always had a thing for you,” she says.

“He has not.”

“Yes, he has. Don’t tell me you can’t see it too. Every time you come to visit, he finds reasons to come up to the house.”

“Bells, he’s married, and he works on your ranch. He has legitimate reasons to be there,” I defend.

“Whatever. I know he likes you. He’s sweet and sexy, and his marriage is over.”

“So?” I ask, trying to keep the flutter in my stomach at bay.

“Just planting a seed. Do with it what you will,” she admits before walking off as Foster approaches again.

As he passes her, she calls, “Hey, Foster, help me get Sonia out there on the dance floor with us, will ya?”

The traitor.

He looks at me and grins as he tilts his head in invitation.

Oh, what the hell?

I take his hand, and he leads us out into the middle of the floor. Then, he tucks me tight to him as a slow song fills the surrounding air.

I’m not a fan of love songs at the present time. They seem like sweet lies being whispered in my ear, but it feels good to be in his strong embrace, and after a few moments, I begin to relax and melt into him. He smells good, like the woods after a rain. My head is on his shoulder, and we are swaying to the melody when I feel the press of his lips against my temple.

I lean back and bring my eyes to his.

“Was that okay?” he asks.

I nod.

His eyes fall to my mouth.

Involuntarily, my tongue darts out to lick my bottom lip. My breathing stutters as his head moves to the side and he kisses my temple and then the tip of my nose, and finally, my cheek just above the corner of my mouth.

It’s brief, sweet, and his breath is soft and warm, and for just a second, I let myself get caught up in the romance of the night.

Our eyes meet and he leans down to kiss me fully, when the song ends, bringing me back into the moment. I take a step back before his lips find mine and look up at the beautiful cowboy standing before me.

“Thank you for the dance.”

My hand finds its way to my cheek as I turn to walk off the floor. I can still feel the tingle of that kiss lingering on my skin as I make my way through the sea of bodies. As the thrill fades, an ache starts to take root. As much as I want to be back in Foster Tomlin’s arms, I know that it’s too soon. It would just be a temporary patch to fix the rupture in my soul. He doesn’t deserve that.

Ricky’s only been gone for a couple of months, and my heart is not ready to move on.

Not yet.