Bolt watched Jesse leave the office and peeked around the corner to ensure the coast was clear. “Thank goodness, he’s gone. C’mon, son. We don’t have much time.”
Chapter 22
Captain Kendra’s Log: Always be quick to render first aid
Jesse rushed backinto the ballroom, headed toward True, and I craned my neck down the hallway to see if Rowan was behind him. After a few minutes, I wandered toward Dad’s office when I found Ernest, the cat, sitting in the middle of the carpet like he was waiting for me. I bent down and picked him up, careful to support his backside and not hold him like a baby. We learned very early on never to hold this cat like a baby. It would trigger his inner demon switch, and if that happened, even holy water wouldn’t save you from Ernest Murder Mittens.
“Ernest? What are you doing here? This isn’t your home.” I peppered kisses on his forehead, and he rubbed his face on my chin, purring in response.
“Why am I suddenly jealous of a cat?” Rowan’s gravelly voice sent shivers down my spine.
I grinned at him. “Rowan? Meet Ernest. Ernest, this is my fake fiancé, Rowan.”
Rowan held out his hand, and Ernest paw-bumped him. “Did you see that?” He gasped.
“Yes, I did.” I bent down to put Ernest on the floor. As I straightened, I noticed Rowan checking out my assets. I mighthave stuck them out a little bit toward him and he took a step back. Damn, this dress was powerful.
“Ahem. Can I call him Ernie?”
“You most certainly cannot,” I huffed, lifting my nose. Ernest got disgusted with the question, too, took off down the hallway, and darted around the corner. “Didn’t you see his tuxedo? He’s a formal cat. Therefore, we address him formally. No nicknames for Ernest,Raff.”
Rowan grabbed his chest. “Ouch. You wound me.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled at him. “What took you so long? Jesse came back to the ballroom nearly 20 minutes ago.”
He stalked toward me, his eyes darkening as he came. That urge to run from him and hoping he caught me was intense. “Goldilocks, there are some secrets that must remain a secret, to give you… plausible deniability.”
I tapped my finger to the side of his nose. “Okay, then. Shall we return to the party? Did you get the music straightened out?”
“Yes.” Rowan reached for my hand, and this time, I laced my fingers through his. “The music is about to start, and so is the dancing. Come on.”
I pulled against him. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
He shrugged. “Me neither. How about we sway to the beat?”
“Sounds good to me.” I followed him into the ballroom, where the strains of a favorite tune began to stream out of the speakers. “Oh, I love this song!”
Rowan’s eyes widened. “You do? Well, all the more reason to dance!”
He pulled me toward the wooden dancefloor and wrapped his arms around my waist. I placed my hands awkwardly on his shoulders and looked around, an embarrassing flashback to a fifth-grade dance sweeping over me. He shook his head, stopped, grabbed my hands, and firmly placed them around his neck. “There. That’s the proper way to dance.”
“I doubt it,” I huffed but went with the music as he began to sway. “But, we’ll give it a whirl.”
“Good,” Rowan purred.
The music seemed to get louder and drown out the crowd's chatter as we danced in our little corner of the world. He smelled so good, and his arms were warm and firm. He caught himself even when he stumbled a bit and laughed it off. I found myself lost in the beat of the moment.
That song faded out, and I was about to leave the dance floor when Rowan pulled me closer. I didn’t protest too much and squealed as another of my favorite songs played over the speakers.
Rowan pulled away slightly. “Did I hurt you?”
I slapped his shoulder. “No. It’s just - I love this song, too!”
“You don’t say?” Rowan feigned surprise.
I narrowed my gaze at him. “What did you do?”
He shrugged.
