“Did you just call me weak?” He nudged her.
“It’s the only part of you that’s weak.” She smiled and glanced down to his fly. “Everything else seems top-notch.”
That top-notch part of him she stared at stirred under her scrutiny.
“Glad you approve.” He stepped aside so another woman with a VIP bracelet could get to the table.
Rachel tossed back the shot like it was apple juice, but then the fire of the moonshine must’ve punched her in the gut, because her eyes bugged and she gripped his shoulder.
He didn’t like that she learned the burn of moonshine the hard way—she should’ve given it a little sip first—but he liked that she leaned against him for support and held on when she needed it. He practically felt the warmth of the distilled liquor in his own veins. Except his hit wasn’t near as bad as hers must’ve been.
“Smooth,” she managed to finally say on a cough.
“Maybe I should try some,” he said.
She shook her head. “Take it from me—don’t do it.”
That wasn’t what he’d meant, though. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her lips. She sighed and parted her lips, and he went for a taste. Rachel, and fire, and spirit.
He broke the kiss. “Tastes fine to me.”
“Dance with me?” she asked, not moving.
“Always.” He touched the indent of her mouth with the pad of his index finger.
It was either that or take her to the car, put down the seats in the back, and find a secluded spot to devour each other.
“That’s not entirely true,” she said. Suddenly, it was as though everything but his face held her interest. She didn’t meet his gaze. “The always thing.”
“Then what’s the truth?” he asked. That moonshine sounded like it had been a good idea, given the tone of her words.
“There’s what I thought was the truth and what I realize now is the truth,” she said.
He could relate to that.
They weren’t dancing, yet. They weren’t even touching. But there was only a wink of space separating their bodies.
The space seemed to stretch for miles in the silence as Rachel started and stopped, started and stopped.
“Forget about it.” She gave a halfhearted wave of her hand.
Her hand brushed against his chest. He reached for it and held it there.
“I would’ve danced with you before this trip, Rach.” He lifted her hand and kissed the end of each and every one of her fingertips.
“I wouldn’t have danced with you.” Her words were quick. “But I will now. And I’m not really making much sense, so we should just get to it.” She paused for half a beat. “The dancing thing.”
“What you’re trying to say is you didn’t always like me?”
She nodded. Gulped. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Well, the feeling was mutual.” He pulled her to the dance floor. A slow country ballad came through the speakers. He wrapped her in his arms, keeping enough space so he could study her face as she responded. “I know what my problem was. Why didn’t you like me, though?”
“I know better than to listen to what other people say. But Gavin had always talked about you like you were shallow.”
That sounded about right.
“I took his word for it.” She looked up at him from under her lashes. “I shouldn’t have.”
