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I can’t help chuckling. I take her hand and pull her toward the dance floor. “No jitterbug or other bouncy songs. Got it.”
I turn to face her and immediately step in close, resting my hands on her hips. I can sense she’s hesitant about this and I don’t want to give her a chance to get away. It’s a strange instinct, but I feel it strongly.
She takes a little breath that seems almost resigned and puts her hands on my shoulders.
“You know I’m feeling very cocky right now, don’t you?” I ask her.
“Just right now?” she asks. “I get the impression that’s kind of your usual state.”
Yes, I really like her. There’s no coyness here. She’s not flirting. She’s just telling me what she thinks. And I’m not so sure she’s all that impressed by me. In spite of that being very unusual, I chuckle. Or maybe because that’s very unusual.
“Fair enough. But I made the grumpiest girl…maybe the grumpiest person…in the room laugh and smile, so I’m feeling especially good about myself.”
“Okay, but I also get the impression that you do that a lot too.”
I’m surprised. That almost sounds like a compliment. “Thanks. You seemed like a tough case. And I’m not sure I’ve got my A-game tonight.”
“No? Damn.”
“So what was that about anyway? You really that down on romance and weddings?”
“What? No. I’m thrilled by the wedding.”
She glances at the bride and groom and I realize that Charlie is also her sister.
“Other than the scratchy dress and stick-on bra and pinch-y shoes, I’m fine with the wedding.”
I’m doing really well not looking at her breasts every time she mentions her bra, but I kind of need her to stop talking about it or I’m going to lose the battle. “So what was all the frowning about?” I ask.
“Oh that.” She rolls her eyes.
“Yeah, that.” I grin. “And you are an expert eye-roller.”
“Thanks. Lots of practice.” She sighs. “I just hate my job and was explaining that to my sisters. Nothing new or unique.”
“Sorry,” I say sincerely. “That sucks.”
“It does. And I really want to quit but, to make matters worse, I have two fabulously amazing older sisters who are very successful and who would be very disappointed in me and a mother who would be very worried about me and…I’m weighing which would be more irritating—staying at a job I suck at or dealing with annoying family members.”
Wow. Maybe that’s what’s drawn me to her. We have a lot in common it seems.
“What?” she asks after a few seconds.
I realize I was staring at her. “I just…know exactly what you mean.”
“You do?”
“I’m in the same boat.”
“You hate your job too?”
“Very much,” I say. “And I, too, have incredibly successful siblings and a mother who will worry—and a grandfather who will be pissed—if I quit.”
“Family business?”
That’s one way to put it. “Something like that.”
“Well, what makes mine even worse…I’ve only been at my job for two months.” She grimaces. “I’m just not cut out for sales, I guess.”
