Songs for Libby - Annette K. Larsen Page 0,28

classy as can be.”

“Why, thank you.” He held his hat in place while he bowed his head in thanks and then pulled a fuchsia hat from behind his back and set it on my head. “Gorgeous,” he commented. “Ready to go?”

I grabbed my purse and off we went to Roy’s, where we left the hats in the car because I had no desire to insult people who wore genuine cowboy hats. The food was great and the band was good enough to dance to, which was all I really cared about. We stayed for nearly three hours, eating, dancing and listening.

As we walked out to the car, Jonas’s gait seemed off, almost like he was limping.

“Are you okay?” I asked, pointing my eyes at his knee.

“Old injury. Sometimes it likes to wake up and bark at me.”

I furrowed my brow. What kind of injury? “Did we dance too much?”

“I’m fine,” he said with a laugh, like he found my concern adorable, which felt a little condescending. “Dancing with you is worth it.”

Okay, so maybe it hadn’t been condescending.

“Where to now?” He opened my car door. “Do I need to take you home?”

Instead of getting in the car, I turned toward him. Things were going so well. I didn’t want to cut it any shorter than absolutely necessary. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

He leaned his arm on top of the door frame. “We could go back to my place.”

I cut my eyes at him, knowing that phrase could have many different implications.

“Just to have a place to hang out. I remember your opinion on booty calls.”

I kicked my toe into the dirt. “Do you think I’m a prude?” I asked, self-conscious. I’d been called that several times in college. It never bothered me because I’d never respected the guys who said it. But if that was what Jonas thought…that would be harder to take.

“I think you know what you want and you respect yourself enough to ask for it.”

My heart fluttered and my attraction to Jonas went up another notch. I nodded and got in the car.

He had a small house on the other side of town from me. It was old, but I could tell he’d taken care of it, maybe even done some renovations.

He opened the front door and let me go in first, reaching in to turn on the light. “What do you think?” he asked with a nervous curve of his brow.

“I think it’s great.” I also thought that now would be a good time for him to kiss me. We’d only had the one short, sweet kiss at the end of our first date at Roy’s. It had been great, but I was ready for another.

He side-stepped to shut the door and stumbled, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “I’ve got to do something about my knee. I’ll be right back.” He tossed his keys on a table by the door and disappeared down the hall.

I wandered around, turning on a few more lights and setting down my purse when I found the living room.

He came back quickly, wearing shorts instead of jeans and carrying a small plastic bin full of stuff. My curiosity piqued. I had expected him to just grab some pain killer, but he seemed to have other ideas.

“So.” He set the bin on the coffee table. “I know you said you don’t like needles, but I need to treat my knee. Is it going to freak you out if I stick needles in my leg?”

“Um…” I was suddenly hot and cold and sweating.

“Here.” He took my upper arms and backed me up so that I could sit in the chair across from the couch. “Just, don’t faint. Maybe if I show you how it works, it won’t freak you out so much.”

I seriously doubted that.

He stepped back toward the couch, his limp even more pronounced than before. I took a deep breath. I could do this. He was in pain and I didn’t want that. He wanted to show me something that was important to him, and I did want that. I nodded.

He picked up a small container and pulled out a needle, holding it up for me to see. It was thin. Way thinner than I thought it would be. He put his finger on top of it and showed me how it bent easily, explaining the size and how they worked. “I put them in this hollow tube when I’m ready to needle a point. See how

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