“I think that drink has been stirred enough,” Benny says.
“Right.” I swivel to the bar, slamming the Manhattan down as the damn fake cowboy flashes Lauren a grin. At the contact, the glass shatters into a million tiny pieces, sending whiskey all over the counter and the floor.
“Shit!”
Chapter Twelve
Lauren
We’rein the middle of the most complicated part of the dance sequence when the sound of shattering glass grabs my attention. I’m supposed to lift my arm up and over my partner’s head and then slide apart from him, but I can’t focus when I look over to find Jax and Jorge scrambling to wipe down the mess at the bar. Across the room, Jax meets my gaze for a second. The look on his face can only be described as desperation. For what, I can’t be sure, but having his eyes on me makes me understand what people mean in romance books when they say their heart skipped a beat because I swear mine stopped for half a second.
That fleeting moment of peace is gone quickly when I accidentally stiff-arm my partner in the face. He keels over, groaning loudly.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry.” I reach toward him in an effort to console him, but he shoves me back, holding his nose.
When he finally straightens, blood drips down his faceand onto his clean shirt. “Look what you did! You have to watch what you’re doing.”
His words feel familiar, like something Austin would say to me.
“I’ll get you some ice,” I offer, trying to keep myself calm.
“That’s the least you could do,” he grumbles.
I know it was my fault for being distracted, but I’m not okay with someone talking to me like that anymore. It was an accident.
I stop on my way to the bar, crossing my arms. “On second thought, you can get it yourself. Maybe ask them if they have some manners to give you while you’re at it.” I storm off, weaving through the groups of dancers and sitting down at one of the picnic tables on the other end of the dance floor.
I take several deep breaths, processing what just happened. I didn’t mean to be so rude, but everything that’s happened over the last few weeks has only showed me the ways I’ve been weak, and I’m tired of it. I’m ready to find my strength, and I’m certainly not going to let some man in a clean pair of Tecovas make me feel like garbage.
Betsy comes to my side, flicking her mic off as she places her hand gently on my knee. “Is everything okay?”
“I gave my partner a bloody nose.”
“I saw.” She laughs.
“He might need some ice. I was going to help, but he was being a jerk, and I lost my temper.” I sag, feeling guilty already.
“No one likes a fake cowboy anyway.” Betsy makes a sour face. “I’ll be sure to get him some ice. In the meantime, do you need a new partner so you can finish your lesson?”
I pause. I should probably stop being achild and fix things, but I also don’t want to keep dancing with that man, and I’m not about to let another item on my list get derailed. “Please.”
Betsy swivels, turning her mic back on. “It appears we are down a dancer. Do one of the bartenders over there want to lend a hand?”
Jax calls out before Betsy’s even finished speaking. “I’ll do it.”
As he hops over the bar, she turns to me with a mischievous smile. “Someone is awfully eager to dance with you.”
A few women watch with curiosity and murmur amongst themselves.
My cheeks heat, and I loudly tell Betsy, “Mr. Overprotective over there. He’s always keeping an eye on me for Charlie.”
“Right.” Betsy purses her lips, giving me a sideways look. “He’s hopping a counter for Charlie.”
As Jax joins me, the adrenaline seems to catch up to him. He glances around, looking almost shy before turning back to me and saying, “I figured after watching these lessons the last three years, I should see if I’ve actually learned something. Besides, chicks love a man who can dance.”
I try not to let the words eat at me as I take his outstretched hand.
He pulls me closer to him, his warmth and masculine cologne curling around me. My gaze snags on his eyes, noting the juxtaposition of light and dark blue in them as my heart pounds in my chest.
