“So, are we good?” Nora asked, peering at me sideways.
I looked up, meeting her gaze. “Yeah, we’re good,” I said, meaning it.
“And Ben?”
“I’m not making any promises,” I told her. “But I’ll try.”
“Deal,” she said, clinking my glass with hers before tossing back the rest of her drink and meandering her way through the growing crowd.
I didn’t know if giving Ben a clean slate was possible, but I could try to be pleasant for the rest of this week. If anything, I owed it to Jack and Olivia to get along with him for their wedding’s sake.
Even though I believed Nora, it didn’t change the fact that he was still a playboy. He wasn’t boyfriend material. But maybe we could find a way to be friends again.
Lights flashed over the dance floor and the music pulsed so loud I could feel it vibrating in my bones. Liv had disappeared somewhere with Jack, and now I was standing alone on the dance floor.
I was the perfect amount of buzzed. Intoxicated enough that I didn’t have a care in the world except finding someone to come dance with me, but sober enough that I could still stay on my feet and dance. What little filter I had to begin with was gone.
I scanned the room, searching for my usual dance partners, but Brian and David were nowhere to be found. I spotted Jack’s little brother seated at the bar and sidled up to him as he finished his glass of scotch. He was a few inches shorter than Jack, but had the same startling blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
“Come on, Jameson. I think you owe me a dance.” I grabbed Jameson’s hand.
He shook his head at me. “I don’t dance.”
“I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” I answered, dragging him reluctantly onto the dance floor with me.
I moved to the beat of the music, urging him to do the same. He did his best to keep up with me, but he didn’t have my enthusiasm. He was stiff and his movements were robotic.
“Are all the British this uptight? Or is it just a Walker men thing?” I teased.
“I told you, I don’t dance,” he grumbled.
I laughed. “It’s not hard. Don’t take it so seriously. You just need to relax a bit.”
He gave me a flat stare.
“Here. Let me show you.” I moved forward, but he stopped me from coming any closer.
“It’s really not necessary.”
Not being able to dance was a crime, as far as I was concerned. Everyone should learn how to do it.Even grumps like Jameson.
“Nonsense. Don’t you want to be able to take your girl dancing?” I asked.
“Not especially.”
I pushed my lips out into a pout.
“Fine.” He gave in with a roll of his eyes. “Show me if you must.”
My smile turned giddy.
“It’s easy. You just have to relax. Feel the music. Let the rhythm of it flow through you.” I took his hands and placed them firmly on my hips, moving them to the music. “Move your hips, Jameson,” I commanded.
He made an effort that looked wooden and uncoordinated.
I sighed, moving closer to him, pressing my body to his so he could better feel my movements. “Not so robotic. It’s...” I paused, trying to come up with an adequate metaphor. “It’s like sex. There’s a rhythm to it, a flow.”
His cheeks flamed bright red, and he gaped at me, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
