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“Yes.”
“Well, you were right. I could’ve chosen any woman in Chicago to accompany me here. Instead, I chose you. Do you know why?”
“Because I was your only option. I’ve already told you this. Remember? In the car on the way here? When I said Cam told me and you said he had a big mouth.”
“I remember. And Cam’s full of shit. That’s not why I brought you.”
“So why did you bring me?”
“I saw the dress.” His eyes sweep me from head to toe. “This dress.”
Spin.
Spin.
I don’t scold him. I’m too anxious to hear what he says next.
“While you were on the phone with your mother, Alfred brought it up. And I just couldn’t get the image of you in it out of my head. That’s why I asked you, Penelope. Because I had to see you in this dress. Then I did. And in that moment I knew there was no fucking way I was coming to this party without the most beautiful woman in Chicago on my arm.”
Go away, weird feeling. Go away. Go away. Go away. Take them flapping ass butterflies with you. And get me some water for this dry mouth. And a tissue for my watery vagina.
“I-I don’t know what to say.”
Spin.
Twirl.
Spin.
Spin.
Stop….
Dip.
“Nothing, Penelope. You don’t have to say a damn thing.”
I’m hovering above the floor. He’s leaning over me. His arm muscles stretched tight against the fabric of his tux. Those lips slightly parted and a hairsbreadth from mine. Gray/blue/green penetrating. His nose skims my nose. Our breaths mingle. Mine labored. His controlled.
He straightens—pulling me with him. I’m lightheaded. More from his admission than the spins and awkward bent back position I was just in. I don’t let go of his arms. He doesn’t release me. He stares one second longer then turns toward the gathering crowd and smiles.
I lick my dry lips. Try to control my breath. Slow my heart. Smile. Not look like a love-struck idiot. It’s harder than it sounds.
Then a flash of color appears. And the strange feeling dissipates, replaced with overwhelming excitement at the sound of the Irish accented voice.
“So I hear someone has some pretty bad ass dance moves.”Chapter Twelve“No, Cam. This isn’t cowboys and Indians. You don’t make the pew-pew sound when you pull out the finger guns. You can make that clicking sound with your tongue and wink, but that’s it.”
We’re in the back of the limo. Me and Victoria—Cam’s date—on one seat, Cam and Jake on the seat across from us.
Cam shoots me with his finger guns. He makes the pew-pew sound. Blows the smoke off his revolvers. Holsters them. Then tips his imaginary hat. “That’s how it’s done, little lady.”
I laugh so hard my side hurts and I lean against Victoria. She cringes and edges away from me. I laugh harder. Cam laughs too. I guess he’s confident he’s getting laid tonight no matter what he does, since he paid for it. Jake on the other hand? He doesn’t laugh. Actually, he hasn’t said or done a damn thing since we got in the car other than fuck me with his eyes.
At the party, he was a completely different person. We both had too much to drink. But Jake handled it better than I did. Where I’m carefree and charismatic and awesome all the time, it took him an ungodly amount of fancy liquor to get that way.
After Ed’s performance, I’d shown him my river dance moves. He showed me some of his own. Jake seemed proud to introduce me as his date. We laughed. Danced. Joked. He kept his arm around my waist when I was near. I leaned against him just to feel his grip tighten. Then I’d watch as he ignored whomever he was talking to, to look down at me and see if I was alright. When he discovered I was, he’d smile. Sometimes he’d wink. And I’d get that feeling.
But now that he’s gone silent and brooding and all sexy-eyes, I have another feeling. It’s not warm. It’s hot. Fire hot. Horny hot. Crotch-about-to-set-the-seat-on-fire, hot.
I shake it off and turn back to Cam. “You ready for the next one?”
“Yep. If it’s good, you get the guns.” He shows me his finger guns. “If it sucks, you get the fingers.” He flips me both his middle fingers.
“Put those away, cowboy. This is a pistol shooting rhyme if I’ve ever told one.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Are we almost there? I’m getting a headache.”
I turn to Victoria and level her with a look. “Victoria. Are we giving you a headache?”
“Yes,” she deadpans.
“Well, lucky for you, I have something that will help.”
“Oh, thank God.” She straightens in her seat and holds her hand out to me.
I shake my head and tsk her. Downside of me drinking? My mouth loses its filter. “Laughter is the best medicine, Victoria.” I hold my hand up. “And before you start getting splinters from that stick in your ass, just hear me out. If you don’t laugh at this one, I won’t say another word the rest of the ride.”
