“It’s no big deal,” she said as casually as she could while she picked through the chips for a full-sized one. “I’m sure all the grandparents try to convince you to fake-date their granddaughters.”
“Nope.” He refilled his glass, and his voice sounded almost normal. “This is a first.”
“But I’msureshe’s just being a proud grandma when she suggested that I take you to my sister’s wedding and pretend to be in love with you.” There. The perfect chip. She dipped it into the salsa, getting just the right amount on it. Perfection.
“Okay. Fine.” Asher held up his hands. “You win. It does seem like Winnie is trying to set us up.”
“Thank you!” she crowed, but then turned her expression serious. “Do you want to be my fake, fake-boyfriend for the wedding, or what? Let’s make her day.”
He gave her a skeptical eyebrow raise. “Fake, fake-boyfriend?”
“Yes, pretend that you’re pretending to date me. Lots of layers.” She stacked her hands over the top of one another.
“Too many layers. I’m more of a simple guy.”
She put a hand on her chest and gasped in mock outrage. “You won’t pretend to be in fake-love with me? Rude.”
He grinned and held up his hands. “What would be involved? Hugging? Holding hands?” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Kissing?”
Her stomach felt weightless, like she was coasting over a wave on a boogie board. “Um …”
“If we can drop two of those ‘pretends’, I’m in.”
Salsa dropped from her chip onto the floor.
The door flew open, echoing through the ballroom. “Hola! I am Alondro Sanchez.” An older Latino man in a black tuxedo with a red vest and bowtie glided toward them as if on a conveyor belt. His hair was mostly black, except for the white patches at his temple, and his mahogany brown eyes sparkled with excitement. “You must be the lucky winners, Asher and Eliana! Are you ready to salsa?”
“Yes.” Asher held out his hand to Eliana, his eyebrows rising in challenge. Do you dare?
Eliana always dared.
She snatched Asher’s hand and led him a little more forcefully than necessary onto the dance floor.
“Salsa is a fusion of many different dance styles, but heavily relies on Cuban and Puerto Rican influence.” He started to dance with an invisible partner, his feet moving forward and backward, his hips swaying, as he continued his explanation. “The salsa is about living in the moment and spicing things up.”
He walked them through some basic steps, and it took most of Eliana’s concentration to follow along. She’d never been a great dancer, but she loved learning new things. He counted their steps out and turned on some music.
“Very good,” he said. “But the salsa is not about dancing alone. It is about being with your partner—expressing your desire for them through your movements.”
Her cheeks pinked, and she refused to look at Asher.
“Asher, take Eliana by the hand, and I want you two to do the dance steps to my count before I turn the music on.”
She reluctantly faced Asher, steeling herself for the sight of him.Come on, brain. Acclimate already.
But nope. Still just as stupidly handsome as he was before. So inconsiderate.
“I wish I hadn’t eaten the salsa,” he said to her as they followed Alondro’s count.
“Why?” she asked.
He gave her a wry smile and ticked off on two fingers, “Garlic and onion.”
She released an unexpected laugh. “Yeah, maybe we should have saved the salsa for after the close dancing.”
“Probably would have been wise. Bruno did not have my back.”
Maybe not. But he’d had hers.
