“Perfect,” I lie, shooting the vodka in one go. My life is a mess. All my school friends are off at college, and I’m stuck in this small town pining after a man who I can never have.
Jo bumps into the side of me with a giggle, wiping the moisture from her forehead after she’s just torn up the dance floor. “How’s it going?”
“Good. This is…” I wait for Mr. McBeard to say his name, as I have no clue what to call him or even if he’s told me his name already.
“Herb,” he says.
I stare at him, thinking he must be older than he looks, because nobody under the age of seventy is called Herb. When he smiles, he gives me the creeps, like someone fromThe Hills Have Eyesmovie. I was so focused on making Flint jealous, I never focused on Herb’s teeth, or lack of.
A little bit of vomit rises in my throat as Herb’s fingers slither up my thigh. I mouth the word help to Jo and she waves over Russell to save the day.
Luckily, Russell understands the call for help and struts over like he’s on RuPaul’s runway.
Herb’s fingers graze my thigh, and my stomach turns. The man smells like seaweed and cigarettes.
“Hi, gorgeous!” Russell says as he wedges himself between me and Herb. “Sorry, she’s taken. We’ve got a dance floor to destroy.”
Before I can blink, he’s dragging me off my stool and onto the dance floor.
I wobble on my feet. “Thanks for rescuing me.”
“Anytime. What were you doing with that guy?” Russell twirls me around as we dance to the live band.
“I was trying to make Flint jealous.”
He stops mid-twirl, eyes wide. “That’s your master plan? Make Daddy Sparks jealous with Captain Barnacle? Girl, no.”
“I had my beer goggles on, okay?”
“Beer goggles? Babe, the goggles were nowhere to be seen. That was a full underwater rescue mission. Your eyes were covered with seaweed.”
I groan. “I panicked. Flint was watching me.”
“Oh, he was watching you, all right.” Russell fans himself with his hand. “If looks could undress, you’d be naked.”
I laugh, but my pulse spikes, hoping there’s truth in his words.
He dips me low, whispering near my ear, “Maybe you should give the poor man a heart attack and dance like you mean it.”
“Russell…”
“What? You’re already living rent-free in his head. Might as well redecorate.” He slides a hand around my waist, pulling me flush with his chest.
“You really think so?”
“Girl, he’s watching you and grinding his molars as we speak.”
“He is?”
We dance. The lights blur. The air hums with heat and laughter.
Flint’s still at the table, his jaw tight, eyes locked on me like he’s seconds away from combusting.
“Uh-oh,” Russell sings, spinning me again. “Daddy’s getting restless.”
“Stop calling him that.”
“You stop looking at him like that.”
