Green & Dance
“Come on! You simply can’t refuse this, can you?”
Her eyes flickered to the torrential rain, and her mouth tightened into a small line. “I can.”
He knelt before her, legs long and lanky; he didn’t know where to put them. ‘Grasshopper legs’ is what he called them. His bright gaze dared her. She wasn’t going to rise to his bait.
“Oh, be a sport, you stiff girl!” He rocked on the balls of his heels and then grasped his hands in hers; brown against white, cold against warm. His grin was disarming, wide and sincere. “You’ll never get another chance like this!”
“I should be glad not to,” she murmured, turning her head to the side. The rolling hills of green beyond were drenched with rain and wreathed in halos of mist, sweet smelling and thick.
“You have no choice.”
And with that, he stood, tugging his hand along with hers. Only a heartbeat later, they were out from beneath the porch. She glared at him from beneath her soggy fringe. “You shall pay.”
“Ah, but for now, I’ll sell.” Grin again. “Dance with me?”