“I’ve never taken a chance. I’ve never tried something wild or risky where I might fail. All I do is work. I hardly ever date, and when I do, my dad finds some fault in the guy and shuts it down before it even gets started. And I let him.” I laugh softly, shaking my head at myself.
“That night… it was beginners’ night, and I thought going to New Jersey, where no one would recognize me, would be my version of letting loose. I wondered how it would feel to do something uncomfortable. And though it made my skin crawl to think about failing, I wondered how it’d feel to fail.”
I draw in a deep breath. “With all the makeup and hardly any clothes, I felt like I didn’t even look like myself. I could pretend that I was this woman who did spontaneous, adventurous things like take up stripping on a Friday night.”
“You looked different, but you still looked like you,” he says, his voice steady.
I blink at him, unsure what to do with that.
“It was stupid. If a client or someone I know had been there and recognized me, I would’ve never heard the end of it from my father. I would have embarrassed him and undone years of professional work.”
“You’re a grown woman, Rosie. You can do whatever you want. Your father would have eventually gotten over it.” He pauses, his lips twitching into a small, knowing smile.
Heat rushes to my face, and I laugh nervously. “It was my first time doing anything like that.”
He nods. “So you said. But it didn’t feel like it.” He rubs at his jaw while his gaze runs like heat up my body. “That lap dance…” he trails off. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
I groan, burying my face in my hands for a second before dropping them. “I didn’t know what I was doing. My general lack of experience with, well,everythingprobably made me stiff as a board. Trust me, it wasn’t good.”
“You’re wrong. It was amazing.”
Why is he saying this? I know how it went. I haven’t ever given a professional lap dance before. I start getting angry.
“You’re just saying nice things. You don’t have to lie.”
His brows pull together, and his expression hardens as he studies me. “You don’t see yourself how I see you.”
“Oh, come on, Boone,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I googled Anastasia.She’sbeautiful.”
He sits back like I slapped him. “What does she have to do with this?”
I don’t know. I don’t even know why I brought her up. My cheeks are flushed, my head’s pounding and my heart’s racing.
“Forget I said anything.”
“She’s nothing like you,” he says, shaking his head, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Um, ouch.
“Well,” I counter, crossing my arms, “That's one thing that you're right about. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing better than I do. Especially in the bedroom.”
Shut up, Rosie!
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he leans back, folding his hands in his lap as his eyes lock on mine. There’s a heavy, charged silence between us like I’ve dropped a grenade in the middle of the conversation and one of us must pick it up.
I sip my tea, trying to ignore the way my heart sounds like it’s headed to an early death.
Finally, he speaks. “Give me another dance.”
I choke on my tea, setting the mug down quickly. “What?”
“You heard me,” he says, his voice low and steady, his gaze pinning me in place. My stomach flips and that flush on my cheeks has to be red. Luckily, it’s dark in here.
“Boone, no,” I say with a nervous laugh, shaking my head. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you want to.”
“I don’t.” But the words feel flimsy even as I say them.
