Alec is funny? Who knew?
Except Alec isn’t laughing along with his brother. His facial expression is, well, fierce. From what I gathered about Alec yesterday, I’d say this has everything to do with those dance moves. He’s going to have a hard time with this, which means we’re going to be here all day long.
* * *
“No,”Madame DuBois snaps angrily. “No, no, no.” She’s glaring at Alec.
God, I feel bad for him. It’s not his fault, honestly. He can’t dance. At all. His hip swivels are terrible and forget about shimmying. The man refuses to do it.
“This is ridiculous.” Chrissie has her arms crossed over her chest, her high-heeled foot tapping away. “Why can’t you get this, Alec?”
Oh, boy. The look on his face says it all. If he could murder Chrissie and get away with it, he would.
Been there, done that. I snort out loud, which draws attention to myself, again. Looking around the room at all the eyes glaring at me, I’ve gotta ask, “What?”
“You think you’re such hot shit, Mattie,” Chrissie sneers. “You try to teach him.” She stomps back to the women’s side of the room, sticks her bottom lip out, and pouts.
I’m not hot shit, far from it. I shrug.
“Oui, vous try.” Madame DuBois is gesturing for me to move.
I shrug, because I may as well try. Walking up to Alec, I ignore his angry expression that, for some reason, is now directed at me. “What?” I ask. “Don’t be mad at me. I told you to be prepared.”
“You didn’t tell me shit, Matilda. If you’d said we were going to dance up the fucking aisle, I’d have flown back to Texas in the middle of the night.”
I smile at his words. He wouldn’t leave his brother like that. Would he?
Nah. No way.
“Well, buddy, you’re going to have to buck up and learn this dance. Stop being such a Debbie Downer. You’re not the only one suffering here. None of us can leave until we’ve got this down. Call it our ownHotel California. You know, that Eagle’s song?”
He nods, then mutters, “This ought to be good.”
Ignoring his snideness, I continue. “It’s like that because we’ve checked in, but no one can leave untilyoulearn this frigging dance, Alec.” I sigh. “Seriously, I’m aging here. You can do it, Alec.”
“Wow.” He’s smirking. “There’s a lot to unpack there. One minute you’re reading me the riot act, the next you’re giving me a pep talk. I appreciate how you covered all the bases. Did you think…” Alec taps his chin. “Hm, I wonder if Alec prefers positive reinforcement or negative?”
Ignoring his snippy, little comeback, I smile up at him. “I don’t know what you mean by that. I’m just trying to give you all the encouragement I can because youcando this, Alec. I believe in you.”
I’m not sure what I expect, but a deep, guttural laugh isn’t it. Others in the group must feel the same because people are staring, mouths agape.
“You.” Madame DuBois points at Alec and me. “Start from the beginning.”
Shockingly, the man doesn’t argue. He gives me a head nod of his own. As I walk to the starting point, the music begins. That’s when I take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze.
He moves up the aisle first. At the midpoint, he stops, rotates his lean hips, bends slightly at the waist, and does a shimmy, of sorts. That’s my cue to head his way. When I get to him, his hands are extended. I place mine in his and ignore the fact my hands fit perfectly. I smile up at him, then wink. “We’ve got this. Step my way. Then we’ll go back.”
“Okay.” He does it.
I move closer to him and rest my hand on his hip. “Swivel your hips, and I’ll do the same.”
We move in unison to the music. “Now, I’m going to step back. Hold your arm out so I can spin underneath it.”
He nods, and we do it. After the third spin, I take his hand and place it on my lower back. “I’m gonna dip. You’d better hold on to me, or I’m gonna kick your ass, Alec.”
That earns me another laugh from him. I lean back and hope like hell he supports me. When I’m at that point of no return, the one that will make or break this dip, Alec whispers, “I’ve got you, Matilda.”
If I told you my nipples got hard at his words, would you judge me?
