Forget the dancing his treasonous mind suggested, wrapping one arm around her back as she leaned in, his fingertips instantly finding the surprise of warm, bare skin between her shoulderblades. Forget the dancing and stay here.
He blew out a long breath as they parted. His fingertips felt blessed, and were sending urgent messages to the rest of his body to let everyone involved know that whatever happened tonight, some situation must be engineered which resulted in them ending up on her skin again. "You look so great," he said, skipping round the question. "The orange! Yes! You're like a happy bee- or something? Here, I got you this," he said, passing over the glass jar of rich, amber honey. "One of the women who comes to Tuck's church has bees on her rooftop, I thought you might like some, it's super local honey. I swear some of the bees I see round the parsonage are her bees. I don't know if you use any special kind of honey in your salves? But it's super tasty even just to eat."