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It was only then that I realized that I still had my hand in his shorts. “Oh crap.” Cheeks flaming, I quickly yanked my hand free and grinned up at him. “Oops.”
“Oops,” he mimicked affectionately, hands resting on my shoulders.
“Why can’t you take being touched there?”
“Because I have the worst tickles known to mankind on my hole.”
“Tickles.” I arched a brow. “On your ass?”
“Yep. So bad.” He nodded eagerly. “I lose total control of my limbs. Seriously. Try it and I’m like a ninja with a black belt.”
“And how do you know you have a tickly ass?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that question.”
“Uh, no,” I confirmed with a grimace. “On second thoughts, don’t tell me.”
“Come on.” He chuckled, draping his arm over my shoulders. “Let’s take that moonlight stroll.”
“This is entirely inappropriate behavior.”
“Duly noted. Should we continue?”
“Of course.”
“Okay then.”
“Hey, remember that song about the summertime?” Entwining my hand with his, I twirled out of his hold before returning to his side. “The one our dads used to play all the time when we were little.”
Shifting our bodies so that he was behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned in close. “‘In the Summertime’ by Mungo Jerry.” Mimicking the singer’s voice, he broke into the chorus, giving me a hilarious rendition of one of my favorite childhood songs. “Is that the one?”
“Yes!” Biting down on my lip with sheer delight, I gripped his forearms for dear life when he began to swing me around in circles. “Oh my god,” I squealed, feeling safer in this boy’s arms than anywhere else on earth. “Please don’t let go.”
“Never,” he vowed. “Not in a million years.”
7
Lord of the Dance Beach
GIBSIE
Several hours later, the tunes were cranking on Feely’s boom box, and the drink was flowing. My valiant efforts of manifesting a good day seemed to have worked because not only had the Viper steered clear of me all night, but she taken to her tent with Lover Boy over an hour ago and hadn’t resurfaced since.
Taking it as a nod from my old man in the sky looking out for me, I had decided to celebrate by necking half my weight in cider. To be honest, I pitied Feely, the poor misfortunate bastard, for having to share a tent with me later, but I was having too much fun to care—or stop.
“And here we have it, folks,” Feely declared, turning up the volume on his boom box to the maximum. The familiar beat of Gaelic Storm’s “Irish Party in Third Class” boomed loudly, causing every limb in my body to react on instinct to the sound of the bodhran as it played a tune in rhythm to the beat of my eternally Irish heart. “Baby Biggs and Lord of the Dance himself.”
My eyes were bleary and unfocused, but I would have to be blind not to see her. Ringlets of golden sunshine bounced in the air as she moved around the campfire like she had been put on this earth to dance with me.
Keeping my hands rigid by my sides, I concentrated really hard on keeping my back straight and my body upright, not an easy feat after a slab of cider, but the girl dancing in circles around me was worth the effort.
Grinning devilishly when it was time to join her, Claire offered me a knowing tilt of her chin and off I went, flying through the air like a demented fucking lunatic with perfectly pointed toes.
“They’re going to fall into the fire,” Hugh slurred, pointing with his beer canto where I was standing precariously close to the flames. “Gibs, you better not burn my baby sister!”
“Shush you, they clearly know what they’re doing.” Katie laughed, slapping at his hand. “Keep going, guys. You’re amazing. Like the couple in Riverdance.”
“Except blond.”
