“I’ll take you.”
She glanced nervously at her friend who was flirting with a new guy with ripped abs and a tight Speedo. “Sam,” she said as she touched her friend’s arm.
Sam turned back, quickly understood what was going on, then lifted her phone to snap a couple pictures of me. “One more of your driver’s license.”
“What?”
“If you’re going off somewhere with my girl, I want some photographic evidence of who you are.”
Huh. Not a bad idea. I complied, setting down the pitcher before pulling out my license, which she captured with clean efficiency. I watched their faces closely, hoping to catch a glimpse of recognition. This would be so much easier if they were fangirls, but no such luck. I wasn’t in a small town in Nebraska anymore.
“Stay smart and text me all the details!” Sam said, blowing Heidi a quick air-kiss. Then she turned back to the Hispanic dude who was slowly edging out the dull-witted Speedo guy. But I only had eyes for Heidi. Was she really about to go to dinner with me?
Meanwhile, Heidi stretched up on her toes to see beyond the crowd. “Is it good crab?”
“No idea. Never been there. But it’s got to be less crowded than this.”
She nodded. “I need to get more clothes on.”
Not on my account. But I liked the idea that she didn’t want to strut around in a rapidly drying shirt.
“My bag’s in back,” she said. Together we moved through the crowd to where the bartender had stowed the contestants’ purses. It was hard going, but I pushed my way forward to force everyone back. She seemed to appreciate it, as she pressed tight to my side.
Warm woman, sweet curves. My hard-on started throbbing in hunger, but I ignored it the best I could. This was about spending time with her, at least for now. Maybe, if I was really, really lucky, things would go my way later on. I had a brief moment of confusion as to why I was taking such care with her. This sure as hell wasn’t my usual MO. But then I pushed it aside. She was what I wanted right now, and I was happy to delay some gratification to hang with her.
She shimmied on a pair of shorts right there and I got to enjoy the sight of her body slinking into soft cutoffs. She looked over her shoulder at the bathroom, but it was the opposite side of the bar, so I touched her arm.
“There’s a bathroom at the restaurant,” I said.
She nodded and then pulled her beach bag tight to her chest as if hiding behind it. It wasn’t large enough and I didn’t like the way she hunched forward, as if suddenly embarrassed. I leaned in because of the noise and spoke into her ear.
“What happened to that bold dancer on the stage?” I asked.
She turned enough to arch a brow at me. “The tequila wore off.”
Not true. The Asian glow still brushed her face and neck with red, but I let it go. I’d already guessed she’d done the contest on a bet and now the daring was wearing off, not the alcohol.
“You were amazing,” I said.
“They’re just breasts,” she said as she hunched a little farther.
“Amazing breasts,” I countered. “And I liked you even without the wet tee.”
She unfolded enough to flash me a confused look. “Really?”
“It was the way you danced,” I said, struggling to put words to my thoughts. “You liked moving that way, and we just happened to be there watching.”
Her mouth opened as if she were about to say something, but then we got bumped by a guy lurching toward the bar. I’d seen him coming and moved to block him. That meant I took the brunt of his two hundred-plus pounds as he pushed me into Heidi. Not a hardship, and also not exactly accidental on my part. I liked wrapping her protectively in my arms. Better yet, I liked the feel of her against me as we maneuvered through the crowd out to the restaurant.
Sadly, that didn’t last long. Ten feet beyond the bar, we could move freely. I had no excuse to press her slim shoulders to my chest and let her scent tease my nostrils. Ginger spice barely noticed beneath vanilla sunscreen. I loosened my hold and should have released her shoulders, but I didn’t want to. She let me keep touching her until we got to the restaurant, and she visited the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later in the same outfit, except underneath, she was now wearing a bra. The tee was thin enough that I could just make out the outlines of pink lace, but that was all, and disappointment flared for a moment while we were escorted to a table on the terrace.
For something called a “shack,” this restaurant was more high-end than my meager bank account could afford, but that didn’t seem to matter when Heidi gave me a shy smile from over the menu.
“My treat,” I said before fiscal responsibility reared its ugly head. She was worth it. “So are you a dancer back home?”
“What? No. I’m a junior at Butler University. Journalism and philosophy major. You?”
“Math at Nebraska, but my real major is baseball.” If anything was going to give away my identity, that would do the job. But instead of a sudden gasp of recognition, she tilted her head in confusion.
