6
Logan
* * *
This evening isn’t going down like I’d thought it would.
That tarot reading fucked Macey up.
And if I believed in that crap, it would fuck with me too. Macey and I are not in a relationship, and we don’t plan to be.
By midnight, Ginny and Macey are dancing in the middle of the bar, and every guy in the place wants his turn. Macey doesn’t pay any attention to the men circling around her, but it’s driving me insane.
“Macey’s in rare form tonight,” Blake mutters to me as we lean against the bar. Luke and Chase are on my other side, and they’re chatting with Dave. “She’s not even drunk.”
“She doesn’t need to be drunk to be off-kilter,” I say.
“So-o-o-o…” My cousin drags out the word, and I prepare to punch him. “She’s in a relationship, huh? What’s that about?”
My eyes are burning as I keep my stare focused on Macey spinning Ginny around. They both break into peals of laughter.
“If you’ve got something to say, Blake, just fucking spit it out,” I say.
But he pushes off from the bar. “Watch and learn, Wild.”
Without another word, he heads for the jukebox and fiddles with it for a moment. Then, he heads onto the dance floor, moving through the crowd easily. When he reaches Macey and Ginny, he flashes that typical Blake grin, the one that all the girls in town fall for and shouldn’t. My cousin’s as cocky as they come. He playfully offers Ginny his hand. She takes it happily, right as a slow song comes on the jukebox.
From the first line of the song, I start.
This song was always ours. Mine and Macey’s.
I glare at Blake, and he turns so he can look directly at me. The grin on his face tells me he played that song on purpose.
And I can’t stop my feet from moving. Before I know it, I’m on the dance floor and standing in front of Macey, who’s looking up at me with wide eyes.
Before I can even extend my hand to her, she’s already shaking her head.
“No, Logan. Not tonight. Please.”
But I know when she needs a lifeline and when she needs to be left alone.
“Take my hand, Mace.” I hold it out to her. “Come on. It’s just one dance.”
The conflict is written all over her face, and I almost think I read this whole thing wrong.
Just when I’m about to withdraw my hand and return to the bar, she slips her warm hand into mine.
And everything feels right.
I pull her close and wrap my free hand around her waist. I bend my head so my lips are nearly touching hers. My hand shifts to her side, and I can feel her shaky inhale through her ribcage.
“Just one dance?” she says.
Her mouth is so close that her breath hits my lips as she says the words.
“Just one,” I promise. “And afterward, I’m going to take you home.”
“And then…what?” Her voice hitches on the last word, and I have to put my cheek to hers so I won’t fuck this whole thing up by slamming my mouth over hers.
