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“What’s going on there, Cowboy?” I tease, allowing myself to lean into him.
I can feel his breath on the back of my neck when he huffs out a laugh. “I don’t remember what direction you go after this.”
I giggle, my eyes meeting the instructor’s as he shakes his head and walks off. Finding another couple to help, I suppose.
“I think he’s given up on us,” I whisper. “We are too terrible at this.”
When Finn leans down, my body still tightly tucked into his, my pulse quickens. I’m reminded of the kiss all over again and how much I want to repeat the entire thing. I’d even be willing to find another toilet if we must. Lennon’s judgment be damned.
“He’s given up on us, Ellie,” he affirms. “We are a lost cause.” His hands let go of mine, moving to grip my shoulders over the flannel he gave me, but he doesn’t move.
“I rather like this shirt,” I say, trying to hide the way my voice sounds breathless–the winding tension in my lower stomach. I can’t be this close to him right now.
“Thanks,” he says, and I can feel his smirk. “It’s my dad’s.”
Whipping around to face him, I note the look on his face and realize he wasn’t lying. “You gave me your dad’s shirt for this? That’s not romantic at all!”
Griffin’s grin widens. “I didn’t realize this was supposed to be romantic.” He steps forward, looking down into my eyes. I can see the green flecks in his, the hazel color shining brightly. Fairy lights look good on Griffin Peterson, that’s for damn sure.
“Well, I mean–” I don’t finish the sentence, a flush of embarrassment slowly working to my cheeks as I realize what I just said. We kissed the other day, but it hasn’t happened again.I’m not entirely sure I know what’s happening between us. All I know is that I can’t get enough of it.
“If you wanted romance, why didn’t you just tell me?” Finn lifts his hand to gently run those long fingers along my cheek and my breath catches in my throat. He’s leaning closer, lips inches from mine.
I can smell his spearmint gum, and I’m pretty sure I’d give anything to get closer.
Finn doesn’t move, his mouth hovering just near mine as he whispers. “I’ll give you romance, Ellie,” he whispers. “I can’t imagine giving it to anyone else right now.”
I wait for the kiss to come, but it doesn’t. I’m left hopelessly frustrated as Finn takes a step back, smiling in a way that makes me want to drag him closer and wipe the expression right off his face.
Wes marches his boots up the stairs and onto the stage at the far end of the ranch, his cowboy hat looking slightly more fitting than the one on Finn’s head. I use that as my chance to grab it, placing it on my head instead.
“Looks better on you,” Finn says, wrapping his arm around my back and pulling me to stand closer to him.
“Well, folks,” Wes announces, with a microphone now firmly clasped in one hand. His deep drawl echoes through the entire space. "That concludes our swing dancing lessons today. We sure hope you stick around for the rest of our Country Christmas celebration. Drinks are available at the bar, and Josh is headed over to the back of the room to start up that there mechanical bull. If your legs aren’t tired, you might want to take it for a spin.”
With that last statement, he’s staring at us, and I’m now certain we are the worst swing dancers in the entire county. We are the ones with the tired legs.
“The mechanical bull,” I say, turning to my head to face Finn. I’m certain the excitement in my eyes is shining so brightly, he’ll be blinded in no time. “‘Bout time I got to ride something.”
Finn does something that falls somewhere between choking on his own spit, and laughing. I’m not sure which it is, but whatever he’s done, it immediately makes me think back on my words and regret them with a vengeance.
I turn away, my body flaming like the sun. It’s the type of embarrassment that burns so hot it outshines any other emotion you may have been having before–if only for a moment.
When Griffin sees my reaction, his grip tightens on my waist just briefly.
“‘Bout time,” he repeats.
Nineteen
Griffin
Ibought Ellis a hard seltzer from an old woman tending the bar directly below the giant bear’s head hanging on the wall with Christmas lights wrapped around him. I’m not sure if thedecor was meant to be festive, or threatening. The bear looked like he was being held hostage by a giant glowing rope.
Ellis named him Herold.
Standing in line for the worn down mechanical bull, I find two very important truths. One, driving an hour out to a country Christmas celebration in the middle of nowhere is a fantastic idea. The second thing I realize is Ellis looks damn good in a cowboy hat.
“Have you ever ridden a horse?” Ellis asks, pulling the drink to her lips and drinking. I try not to watch her mouth part over the lip of the can, but ever since her little slip up about riding something, I’ve turned into some kind of horny teenager.
