Taking the keys from my fingers, Derek pulled open the storm door and unlocked the knob, pushing the wooden panel wide and gesturing for me to precede him into the house. Once we were both inside, he pushed the door shut, pitched the keys on the small entry table and turned to me.
“I didn’t even get to hold you for one dance. Shall we?” he asked, stepping toward the center of the room and holding his hand out to me.
My humor gave way to the butterflies of anticipation as they flapped their wispy wings in my stomach. I was still smiling when I walked forward to slip my fingers into his.
“We shall,” I said, nodding formally. “Thank you, kind sir.”
With a flourish, he spun me around once then pulled me into his arms. With smoky eyes, he stared down at me.
“You have dirt and blood on your cheek,” he remarked, his lips twitching as he contained his grin.
I raised my free hand to wipe at it, but Derek caught it at the wrist.
“Don’t,” he commanded, his expression turning more serious. “You’re still the most beautiful date I’ve ever had.”