“No.” The crestfallen feeling had nothing to do with whether I wanted to dance or not. At least I didn’t have to lie about that part. I didn’t want to join friends who were having a grand time and had forgotten about thefriend they’d left behind. “I don’t dance. Not like that anyway.”
“How do you dance?”
“Privately.”
A dark brow notched up.
A fire ignited in my cheeks. “Smaller venues. More subdued music. Like, I’d dance to this stuff at home. I can’t just let loose on a dance floor. What about you?” I reclined against the back of the booth. The seat was really comfortable, but I also hadn’t eased away from him when I’d leaned over to find my group.
“I don’t dance like that either.”
I nodded knowingly. “Private dancer.”
He chuckled. “No, firecracker. Not privately either.”
“Firecracker?”
“Red’s a gimme.”
I practically preened at the nickname. Gideon James was not the cold man I’d expected. He wasn’t warm and fuzzy either, but the alcohol was making me warm enough for both of us. “Cinnamon?”
“Not when you smell so sweet.” Then he clenched his jaw like he hadn’t meant to say that.
I giggled and took a long drink of my Bloody Mary. I should ask for a glass of Pappy just to savor, but I liked the decadence, like I was wealthy enough to mix the drink with pond water if I wanted. Daddy always joked that was the difference between his generation and ours. There wasn’t a bourbon Wynter and I wouldn’t mix in our recipes.
“It’s my lotion. I get really dry skin.” I held an arm up and the room spun. I switched to grabbing another olive instead. “I’m the opposite of a firecracker.”
“And what’s that?”
I wrinkled my nose. A dud. I wasn’t admitting that to the guy all the servers scuttled around. He was like royalty. “You rule this place.”
“It’s my job.”
“My job is to be in charge of twenty-two little humans, but they don’t say ‘yes, ma’am’ or ‘no, ma’am’ like Sera.”
Just then, Sera appeared with another veggie-loaded drink and a small tray.
I laughed. It was more like a guffaw, but maybe the music would drown out the sound. Gideon’s gaze was on me, but he didn’t roll his eyes like my brothers did when I got a little tipsy and spoke too loudly. “I said your name and you appeared.”
Sera’s smile was either genuine, or she was damn good at her job. She made me feel special. “I brought the charcuterie tray you requested, sir.”
I squealed and clapped my hands. I got salt cravings when I drank. “Yessss.”
She rattled off names of meats and cheeses as she pointed to each one, but I didn’t care. It could be a Lunchable. I was hungry and the cheese looked delicious.
Gideon slid the fancy wooden cutting board closer to me.
“Aren’t you going to have some?” I asked, picking a thin slice of what was probably expensive prosciutto. What were the hard flakes of cheese again? I paired it with the meat.
“Help yourself.”
“I’ve helped myself to a lot.” I took a bite. Salty flavor burst over my tongue. My eyes rolled back and I moaned while I chewed.
I was making a spectacle of myself. I wasn’t usually this free, but something about Gideon cut through the self-consciousness. He was out of my league, and I assumed he hated my family, me included. If he dropped the bill on me thinking he’d get one over on a Bailey, I could cover it. I hadn’t had a treat like this in... ever.
I picked up a slice of something that had as much fat as meat and paired it with the hard cheese. I put it on top of the warm toasted bread that also had a fancy name. “Here.”
He looked from my fingers to me, then drew his arms off the back of the booth. He twisted to the side, gingerly took the food offering, and put it all in his mouth. The muscles of his jaw bunched as he chewed. How could eating be so... masculine?
