“She has roots. Deep ones,” Liz said.

“You have wings. Big ones,” he shot back.

“Be careful, Blaze.”

“I can’t. Not this time or I’ll lose what my heart really wants, and you can’t say a word because you’re floating the same boat as I am,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” she admitted.

He held up a beer. “Here’s to roots and wings. May they both have the ability to change.”

“Last week you wouldn’t have said that. You were begging me to give my house back to Uncle Haskell and come back to the carnival. And love at first sight is…”

He poked her playfully on the arm. “Love at first sight is a load of crap. But the heart can reach out and know its soul mate at first sight, and then the love can come later.”

Liz finished her food, wadded up her papers and put them in the trash can at the end of the table. “Be careful, darlin’. Next thing you know, you’ll be sprouting roots.”

“No, I’m not,” he declared, “but I can hope that someone else will sprout wings someday. Got to run. Tressa is motioning to me. I think she’s about to call it a night and shut up an hour early. See you tomorrow night?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m running the dart gallery. Colleen ought to love it when she sees me hawking for customers,” she groaned.

“We are what we are.” Blaze waved good-bye to her.

***

Raylen opened the door when she walked up on the porch. Candles glimmered in the background and Christmas music floated out to meet her. He wore flannel pajama bottoms and no shirt.

He pulled her inside, kicked the door shut with his bare foot. “I believe you owe me a dance, Madam Daragama.”

She took him by the hand and led him to the recliner. “Wait right here and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Wait is a four-letter word,” he grumbled.

Suddenly something that sounded like snake charmer music began to play in the kitchen, and Liz appeared out of the darkness, taking tiny steps toward the center of the room as her arms moved to the flute music.

The drums started and she did a one-foot spin, landing on both feet so close to him that he gasped. Then she slowly turned around, her arms beckoning to him and her belly muscles rolling. The tempo picked up, and she leaned backwards until her black hair touched the floor, and she was looking at him upside down. When the flute took center stage again, she rolled back up, each graceful move as subtle as it was sexy.

Turquoise hip-slung pants hugged her legs to the knees where ruffles in silver and lighter blue flirted with him every time she moved.

The music changed slightly, bringing in a piano, and she did another one-foot spin and removed the skirt. She wrapped a long silver scarf around her hips and kept time to the music.