47
Abigail hadn’t enjoyed a night of dancing in years. Sure, she’d taken clients to clubs, and they’d forced her to join them on the dance floor, but to actually enjoy a night dancing to wonderful ‘80s tunes, she’d not had the pleasure in what felt like a lifetime. Scott turned out to be quite the mover.
“I’m exhausted.” She grabbed his hand and yanked him away from the dancing guests. “I need a quick breather.”
“Me too.” Scott led her to a table at the front of the marquee.
She checked the time on her phone. “Beth said she wanted to go on about ten. There she is, with her guitar.” She waved the singer and her assistant over, while she plonked herself on a chair, trying to regain her composure.
“Are you going to introduce me, Abbie?” The singer had her guitar strap over her shoulder,
