His cheeks betray him. A fully redenned blush appeared as he laughed, brushing off my silly question. I’d finally called him out on his reserved demeanor, asked him point blank if he was a just little bit shy.
Never before had I seen a grown man blush so. It charmed me more than anything he’d ever said or done. More than his unrivaled good looks or excessive flattery he frequently paid me. There was a second of mutual embarrassment which passed before he took me into his arms, moved me across the floor like in a well choreographed dance. He held me against the wall, cradling the small of my back in his right hand like a boss. Lifting my chin to meet his lips, he kissed me long and passionately. His hard, lean body against mine felt strong and ready. He whispered into my ear in his slightly Walter Brennan voice, “You, my dear, are blushing.”
He and I, for a precious lasting moment, stepped in time in a dance of blush to the mysterious, magical music of hush.