“You’ve been staring,” Mel said, lips curving.
I let out a low breath. “I’ve been trying not to.”
“And failing miserably.” She laughed softly.
The music shifted to an upbeat track, and Abby grabbed Jeff’s hand and dragged him to the dance floor without hesitation.
Mel turned to me, eyes playful. “The best dancer if falling behind?”
I grinned. “When I said at that Dallas plaza, I was better than you, it wasn’t a bluff.”
“You mean when you didn’t even know off-beat dancing existed?”
I stood, offering my hand. “Ready to lose?”
She took it with a smirk. “You wish.”
We stepped into the crowd, the lights spinning above us, the bass thumping beneath our feet.
And just like that, Dallas wasn’t only a memory, it had been the spark that lit this momentum. Mel and I met the disco beat move for move. She was good. I matched every step she threw at me, and we danced and laughed, inventing ridiculous moves to outdo each other.
Sweat glistened on her skin, her cheeks flushed, her smile wide and wild. Then the music slowed, the tempo dipping into a sultry beat. I pulled her into my arms. Her flowery scent mixed with sweat, drinks, and the faint tang of finger food—it was all intoxicating. Nothing mattered but her swaying to the rhythm in my arms.
I bent my head and kissed her right there on the dance floor. It was one of the best kisses I’d ever had.
Mel blinked up at me, lips parted, as if she hadn't expected that. Or maybe it was too short.
“An encore is on order, I know. But not here,” I told her.
She blinked again, then laughed, face planting into my chest, the music swallowing her laughter. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stunning,” I said, brushing a curl off her cheek. “I’m not even sure I remember how to dance anymore.”
“Me neither,” she said. “We can just sway and look good doing it.”
So we did. I barely noticed the cold sweat drying down my back. She’d stolen all my sensations. My arms around her waist, hers around my neck, her head rested against my shoulder—the kind of closeness that blurred the rest of the night into a few songs, until it was time to leave.
The drive back was in a charged silence, like the after-overtime win. Streetlights slipped across her face, catching the shimmer at the corner of her eyes when she glanced at me. My hand stayed in hers the whole way.
When Jeff pulled into the driveway, past midnight, he and Abby said goodnight to us and went inside. I remained on the porch with Mel, slipping my arms around her from behind. She braced her hands over mine, leaning back into my chest, fitting like a second heartbeat. We stood there in the dark, looking out over the illuminated lawn.
The heavy stuff from this morning, her family drama, tried to crawl back in. But tonight, her laughing, flushed from dancing, leaning into me, I saw how far she’d come already. She wasn’t her mother’s shadow, she was her own light. And damn if that light didn’t make everything else dim.
“You can keep the house keys,” I said. The words landed heavier than I expected.
She went still, then turned to face me.
“You’re giving me your house keys?” she asked, voice small with disbelief.
“Yes, Cutie. So you can take a closer look at the Ducati, anytime you want.”
She looked puzzled.
“My bike,” I clarified, a faint smile tugging at my mouth. “Maybe hold off riding her till I show you the basics? Actually, what do you say we take our first ride after work tomorrow?”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Not when I’m at the handlebars. It’s like skating. You barely wobbled last time.” Another peck. “Same with being public. I liked how you laughed through that whole photo shoot.”
