Right Chapter 8 Exhausted from the long day that had begun at six o’clock in Frederick that morning and shifted to the world of cruise boats, slot machines and line dancing, Tyra leaned against Byron and stifled a yawn. Not that she was sending him a message, she wasn’t. She made it a habit not to play games with men or to mislead them. She loved to line dance, although she’d rarely done it, and line dancing with Byron was such fun, and a revelation, too. He seemed to have put every muscle and sinew of his body into it, and she danced long after she became tired, because she enjoyed seeing him move. She covered her mouth in hopes of hiding another yawn. “Are you sleepy?” he asked her. “If you are, I’m not surprised, since it’s already eleven-thirty.” At a beverage fountain, he stopped and asked what she would like to drink, but she wanted nothing more than to get out of her clothes, put her head on a pillow and go to sleep. “No thanks, Byron. I just want to fall into bed.”
