“Been here a while?” Whit asks, before bringing the tumbler to her lips.
She sniffs the liquid, pulling a sour face before shrugging and taking an impressive pull from the straw.
Kate doesn’t get the chance to answer before the familiar intro to “Cotton Eye Joe” filters through the speakers. A stampede of patrons rush to the floor, arranging themselves in neat rows. I find myself drawn to their energy as I watch them collectively clapping their hands above their heads and howling at the moon like a bunch of fools.
“Let’s go.” Whitney gives me no chance to decline before taking my hand and dragging me out there with her. The four of us line up in front of our table, on the other side of the guard rail. I appreciate that she’s considerate enough to stick to the back of the pack, because without a doubt, I’m about to embarrass us all. Won’t be long before she’s questioning her own judgment in bringing me here.
“I have no clue what I’m doing,” I warn.
“Follow my lead,” she says, hooking her thumbs through her belt loops and bouncing in place to the beat. Her smile is radiant and her energy infectious.
Being the nut that I am, I tuck my thumbs in my front pockets and hula hoop my hips while waiting for the actual dancing to begin. The sound of my girl’s laughter spurs me on. I’m so busy acting the ass that I completely miss the start of the dance.
“They show no mercy,” Beau laughs, when I’m damn near bowled over by a line of dancers. “Just move. You’ll eventually pick up on the steps.”
“Front, front,” Whit sings, tapping the heel of her boot out in front of her. “Back, back,” she says, swinging it back and this time tapping the toe twice. “Cross in front, cross in back.” She follows along, slapping her ankles while explaining what she’s doing with every step. “This way,” she shouts, spinning and crisscrossing this way and that.
Just as soon as I start to get the hang of it, they go switching shit up on me, and we’re trading places with the people in front of us.
“You’re a damn idiot,” Beau shouts when I give up on the steps altogether in favor of a little freestyling.
My date doesn’t seem to mind my improvising. It’s obvious she’s in her element, not missing a beat. I, on the other hand, miss more than I hit, constantly catching myself staring at the woman.
She’s beautiful in any light. But the way she looks right now—so playful and carefree? Well, she’s positively magnetic.
“You did great!” she huffs, out of breath as we make our way back to the table.
“You’re a shit liar,” I say. Feeling emboldened by her flirtation this evening, I give her a firm swat to the ass. “But it was fun.”
She looks up at me from under her makeup-darkened lashes as she slips out of her jacket, draping it over her chair, leaving her in a pale pink sleeveless top with a deliciously low cut neckline.
My mouth waters as I drink her in. I’m entranced as her ample cleavage rises and falls, glistening with a sheen of sweat beneath the lights—her every labored breath has me catching my own. That flush in her cheeks and the sexy smile she can’t seem to wipe from her face have me fighting the urge to take her in my arms…to slide my tongue—
“I need the bathroom,” Kate blurts, interrupting the eye-fucking that was likely becoming a bit awkward for our company.
I adjust myself discretely, because hell, now I’m uncomfortable as well.
“You know where it is,” Whit says, catching a heated glare from her best friend.
“I’ll just go with her,” she amends, giving my hand a squeeze before the two of them disappear into the crowd.
“So…”
I raise my brows at my cousin’s not-so-subtle intrusion into my business.
“What’s the deal with you and Whitney? You seem a bit cozier than y’all were the last time we got together. Don’t think we didn’t see that ass slap.” He laughs. “It’s no doubt what prompted that little visit to the ladies’ room.”
I puff up with pride. “I been telling your ass for years—the ladies can’t refuse my charm.”
He laughs, scrubbing a hand over his chin. “How serious have things gotten?”
“Not serious at all.”
He nods, taking a swig from the beer he’s been nursing since we arrived. “But you want it to be?”
I gnaw on my lip, a little afraid to speak my desires into existence. “Yeah,” I finally confess. “I think I just might.”
My admission brings on a brief silence. If Beau’s still talking, I’m not paying a lick of attention.
“Be right back,” I say, not even sticking around for a response before rushing off to put in a special request with the DJ before the ladies return.
When I return to the table they’re still not here, and I start wondering what happens inside women’s bathrooms that takes so long.
“Hey!” Whitney’s greeting has me nearly falling off my stool.
I take a moment to right myself then sling an arm around her neck. “Hey yourself, beautiful.”
She sets a beer on a cocktail napkin in front of me. “Thought you could use a drink.”
“Thanks,” I say, taking a swig. “But I’m switching to water after this.”
Her eyes widen.
“Miss Priss,” is my only explanation.
She bursts out laughing. “My kid’s such a buzzkill.”
“She’s wise beyond her years.” I tip her chin, staring into her baby blues. “You’re doing an excellent job raising her. I’m a better man for knowing her already.”
Her throat moves with a hard swallow, and her eyes begin to glaze over. “Dance with me?” she rasps, squeezing my bicep in her tiny hand.
“That’s not how this works.”
Her head jerks back, brows furrowed.
“A gentleman always asks a lady to dance.”
Her face splits into a dimpled smile. “Another one of your Mimi’s lessons in chivalry?”
I nod.
“Well, you’d better hurry. They only play a few slow songs before the line dancin’ starts up again. Beau and Kate are already out there.”
“Patience,” I whisper placing a placating finger at her lips. “Our song’s next.”
“Our song?” she gasps. “Wyatt Landry, what did you do? We don’t have a—”
“May I have this dance?” I ask, rising from my seat just as Perfect Stranger’s “You Have the Right to Remain Silent” begins filtering through the speakers.
“Thought you’d never ask…”
With her trembling hand in mine, I lead her out to the floor, give her a quick twirl, and pull her body flush with mine. Her arms lace around my neck, her fingers threading into my hair while I splay one across her back, resting the other at her waist.
My heart lurches as I whisper the lyrics into her ear, each one piercing it with truths. “So many times, my eyes have held you. Tonight, please give my arms that chance,” I croon.
“Wyatt,” she starts.
“Shhh.” I push her hair back from her face, brushing my lips over hers. “Just listen.”