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I patted my leg. “If I had them everywhere, I’d have a thigh strap with a blade right here, buddy.”
At that, he quirked a brow but said nothing.
Poppy leaned in. “Ian, she’s a soon-to-be romance writer, staring at a dance floor and thinking about love and relationships. If you’re a smart man, you’d be asking your friend to dance right now.”
Ian blinked, and so did I.
Silence coated the space like a heavy blanket, and just like that, I got dragged back down that hallway again. A hard chest and big hands, the way he ran up the stairs and yelled my name. God, a weaker woman might swoon, but I was working triple-overtime to keep my thoughts in check. Keep them locked the hell down in the metaphorical dungeons where they belonged.
Did I want him to ask me to dance?
Yes. And no.
Not here. Not now.
Even through the throbbing tightness in my chest, I gave Ian a wry grin. “Don’t worry, I have no hopes for that. Ian has never asked me to dance.”
His eyes stayed steady on mine.
Poppy gaped. “What? Not even at prom or anything?”
“Never.” I set my chin in my hands and stared at my best friend. “What’s up with that?” I asked. “You have two left feet or something?”
“Or something,” he murmured.
Poppy gave her brother a look of such disgust, I burst out laughing. “It’s okay, Poppy, really.”
She stood from the table. “Men are stupid,” she declared, then held her hand out to me. “Let’s go show them how it’s done.”
With clasped hands, Poppy and I turned each other in circles, twirling around the dance floor. And the whole time, Ian stayed in his seat, his eyes on me while I spun to the music and laughed.
Chapter 17
Harlow
What did one wear to your kid’s first flag football practice when there would be pro football players in attendance? Not leggings and a ripped-up T-shirt, that’s for damn sure. For the first time in months, I threw on some nice jeans, a tank top, and a white sweater with a wide V.
My hair was actually down. A few coats of mascara and some blush made me feel like I’d done something for an event like this.
Sage was exiting the bathroom when I left my bedroom, and she stopped. “Wow, you look fancy.”
“That’s just because I look like a troll most days since I’m home working.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, you don’t.”
“Trust me, it’s better that way. Then when I make an effort, people are incredibly surprised at how nice I can look when I try.” I tugged at the sleeve of her green and white Jets shirt. “You’re one to talk. You trying to make a statement with this thing?”
Sage shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
What bullshit. My little rebel had eyes practically glowing with a healthy mixture of excitement and nerves.
“Want me to do the two braids?” I asked. “We’ve got enough time.”
“Yeah.” She sat crisscrossed on her bed, and I stood behind her. “Will you teach me how to do these someday?”
“Of course. We may have to watch some videos first, though. I can’t really teach you on my own head, but we’ll figure it out.”
She nodded.
