THE WAR BRIDE CLUB by Soraya Lane

knew what she shouldn’t be doing and that was ogling him, but it was hard not to.  
          He had sun-kissed skin and light-brown hair. It was parted but slightly unruly. His uniform, not to mention his accent, made it clear that he was an American. Like almost all the men here.
          Had he sat down to rest his legs, or had he come over to see her? She didn’t consider herself a complete fool when it came to men, but she sure didn’t know what to do with herself right now.  
          She saw him look across the room and she followed his eyes. A group of guys were nudging and elbowing one another. Were they laughing at her?
          “Would you like to dance?”
          Betty’s face burnt hot. She didn’t like to be made fun of.  
          “You can tell your friends that I’m not interested in, in being the butt of some joke!”
          Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. He turned his flushed cheeks to her, eyes pleading, and shook his head fervently.  
          “Oh, please, no. You aren’t a joke, it’s just…”
          She glared at him. She’d heard these Yanks’ sweet talk was a dime a dozen, but she wasn’t going to be fooled. She crossed her legs delicately and turned her shoulders away.  
          Betty saw him slump back in the chair. She was still curious, but she wasn’t going to be swayed.  
          “I’ve been watching you since you arrived with your friend, and they’ve been trying to get me to come over to you, that’s all. Honest.”
          That made her turn slightly. Maybe she’d over reacted. Still, she wasn’t going to let down her guard just yet. Betty kept herself angled away from him.  
          To her surprise he got up and walked away. Walked away! If that didn’t make a girl feel dejected then… Betty fumed inside. If she hadn’t promised Lucy she would have walked straight out the door. She stood up and looked for her again, wanting to beckon with her head that she wanted to go.  
          “Huh-hmm.”
          Betty turned. What the…
          “Hi, I’m Charlie Olliver.” He held out a drink to her.  
          She didn’t know what to say. What was he doing?
          “I’m sorry about before, can we start over?” he asked.  
          Betty searched the crowd for Lucy again and couldn’t locate her, so she reached for the drink he was holding out and gingerly extended her right for him to shake.  
          “Betty Sanders,” she said. She sighed as he looked rather pleadingly at her. “And yes, we can start over if you’d like.”
          Charlie grinned at her, and she knew that she’d been wrong to judge him. He might be cheeky, but he had an honest face. That’s what her mother would have said, if she were still alive.
          “So Betty, what on earth are you doing sitting at a dance alone?”
          She laughed and shrugged. She wasn’t going to point out that she had hardly ever danced before, let alone been faced with men desperate to ask her.
          “The other guys are just too scared to ask you. Pretty girl like you should be dancing ‘till her shoes wear out.”
          Now she knew what Lucy’s mother had been on about, warning them about the charm of an American.  
           They have silver tongues , she’d said, waving her finger at them before they’d left. They don’t call a spade a spade like our local boys, and it doesn’t mean you should believe what they say.  
           Betty and Lucy had giggled on their walk here, taking turns to mimic her mother, but she suddenly understood. American boys were different, and she knew exactly why so many girls were falling in love with them.  
          Betty sipped on the punch and felt a brief rush to her head. The last thing she wanted was to meet a dashing young man then swoon at his feet. Or worse, be taken advantage of. She put the