“Like…underground gamer good,” Jonas says. It’s hard to tell if he’s mad or impressed. “Who are you and what have you done with my mom?”
After her car’s crossed the finish line, she sets the controller down and stretches her arms out in front of her. Then cracks her knuckles and rolls her neck while we wait for Jonas to finish dead last.
“Time for your victory dance, Mama,” I say.
“No, no.” She waves her hands in front of her face. “I don’t dance.”
“No way. You got to sit there and laugh at our silly dance moves.” I gesture toward the open living room floor. Her big eyes meet mine with a flicker of heat.
“I don’t need to rub it in that I won.” She grabs a sour key and pops it onto her blue-stained tongue.
“I mean, technically I did the first three-quarters of that race. It was a joint effort, so I’ll dance with you.” I shake out the weariness in my legs when I stand up and reach for her hand. Teasing, I add, “Come on, Whittaker.”
To my surprise, she takes it. Warm, smooth palm sliding into my work-worn one.
Rolling her eyes, she says, “It turns out I actually like the name Whitney alotmore now. I’ll have my parents send their gratitude your way.”
I pull her to her feet and bust out a robot move to get the party started. The only music we have is from the video game lobby, which is some type of obscure hard rock that’s not exactly meant for dancing. Good thing the classic robot arm moves don’t need to be on beat.
Her slender body shimmies in place. The most half-assed victory dance to ever exist.
“That’s the best you got?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
“She has a scuba diving move she loves,” Jonas adds. “It’s really stupid.”
I don’t know what the boundaries are when it comes to disciplining this kid. On the ranch, I can tell him to stop being a piece of shit. But this is a gray area.
Regardless, I can’t bite my tongue fast enough. “Don’t call your mom stupid.”
“I said her dance move is—”
“Don’tfinish that sentence. It’s all the same shit. Don’t do it.Capisce?”
He blinks at me. “What?”
“You understand?”
Clearly still confused, he simply nods and reaches for his pop, avoiding eye contact with me. Which is fine, because I’m immediately searching Whit’s face for a sign that I didn’t cross a line just now.
“Okay, let me show you myvery coolscuba diving move.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, then plugs her nose in one hand and wiggles in a way that I guess is supposed to mimic swimming. I’ve never been diving, so what do I know?
Besides, it’s fucking adorable.
There’s never been a better time to bust out my pretend fishing rod. I cast it right at Whit, and she plays into it, hopping across the floor until she’s the closest she’s ever been, and her body language is begging me to make the space smaller. When the area rug folds over on itself under her feet, she frantically reaches out to steady herself, dainty fingers tight around my bicep. I knew she was tall, but having her so close, I realize how easy it would be to bend ever-so-slightly and kiss her lips. Forehead. Nose. All of it is right there, ripe for the taking.
“Oops, nearly fell right off the hook there,” she says, a laugh drawn up through her eyes.
Maybe she did, but I won’t. She’s got me—hook, line, and sinker.
“Better scoop you up in the net before you’re the one that got away, eh?”
“The one you tell all your buddies about?”
“The tale of all tales. I’ll be sitting around telling my grandkids about it one day.”
I can’t help but notice her hand hasn’t left its spot on my arm. Each second is marked by bass in an instrumental song, and the beat somehow draws her closer to me. She moves like water, swaying and bending, leaving me no choice but to wonder how her body might curve around mine.
Her eyes flicker to my lips. For one breathless moment, I think she might go for it.
