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“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of her. But they look awfully familiar, don’t they? I...I’ve never seen him like that with anyone.”
If I didn’t hate him before, I loathed him now for being the reason her voice was tight like she might cry. I’d fucking kill him, the dumbshit. He couldn’t be this stupid—he had to know what he was doing to her. And if he knew how she felt and he was doing it anyway, he deserved the broken nose I was primed to give him.
On realizing I was a heartbeat away from beating the shit out of Hank in my place of employ, I grabbed Jessa’s hand and pulled her toward the crowded dance floor.
“Come on, Duchess—dance with me.”
She followed silently, and when we reached the dance floor, I spun her once and pulled her into me. Her body fit against mine so neatly, I nearly heard a click. She slipped into the two-step with me, but her mind was a thousand miles away.
“I didn’t know you could two-step,” I said.
“Oh,” she leaned back to look down at our feet. “I didn’t know I could either. You’re that good of a dancer, I suppose.”
“Don’t tell anybody. I’ve gotta keep the bar low.”
She chuckled, our bodies meeting once again. She softened a little in my arms, more still after a sigh.
“You all right?” I asked.
“Yes. I . . . I’m just surprised, I think.”
“Who wouldn’t be? For some godforsaken reason, you’ve had a crush on that shitass for a decade, and he showed up for Cass’s wedding with a date nobody knew about. You’re entitled to a little surprise.”
She thought about that for a moment, then nibbled her lip. “It very much seems like they’re together, doesn’t it?”
I shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe Hank is just touchy-feely with everybody. Or he’s the world’s greatest prick.”
“Do you think she’s his girlfriend?”
As we rounded the bend of the dance floor, I got a good look at them. She was practically sitting in his lap with her arm on his shoulder, the two of them talking to another group with shit-eating smiles on.
My face must have given it away because she groaned, shaking her head.
“I’m such a fool,” she whispered.
I would have stopped dead if there was a chance we wouldn’t get trampled. Instead, I widened my gait, stepping us in an oblique toward the bar where there was space to stop, turning us as we went. She was breathless, her eyes bright as we danced, the speed spinning us with solid force. A little smile played at the corner of her lips, Henry forgotten.
I stopped once we were free of the dance floor, but I didn’t let her go. With my free hand, I thumbed her chin, lifting it so she’d meet my eyes in the hopes that she’d really hear what I was about to say.
“Jessa, you are a great many things, but a fool is not one of them. Don’t you dare let that dumb motherfucker’s error hurt you. Don’t let him hurt you. He’s done enough of that.” I looked in the asshole’s direction, pleased as fucking punch that he was watching us. And I had another genius, moronic idea. “You know, he’s not the only one who’s here with someone else. I think it’s high time you show him what he’s missing.”
Her lips parted softly, her eyes flicking to my mouth, sparking electricity where her gaze lingered.
“Make him jealous?” she asked quietly, her eyes still on my lips.
“Remember how mad he was at the fair? Make him think we’re dating. He’ll go crazy.” I’ll go crazy. Hell, we all might go crazy.
“I don’t know if you’re brilliant or mad.”
I shrugged. “Bit of both.”
She laughed, and anticipation shook me. I calculated a number of things—the distance between us and the wedding party, the wager I was so desperate not to lose, the pain I’d seen on her face, the way she felt in my arms, the way I wanted her—and I made a decision with intentional idiocy.
“All right,” she said. “How should we go about it?”
“Well,” I started, watching my hand stroke her jaw, “there’s one easy way.”
“Yes?” she breathed.
