I rolled my eyes and spun away to get outside for some air—and maybe a Tiger’s Blood snow cone—and smacked into a wall of muscle.
I knew it was Ian before his strong hands steadied me. The scent of his cologne permeated the air. Woodsy pine and rich amber had me leaning in before I could stop myself.
I could see damp perspiration in the vee of his neck. He’d taken off the bandana and stuffed it into his back pocket at some point in the night. And, thank the good Lord for that, because what a shame it had been to cover up the long line of his throat or any part of that sharp jawline.
“Whoa, there,” Ian said.
“If you call me ‘little lady,’ I’ll deck you.”
He grinned like I was hilarious. “Actually, I wanted to see if you’d like to dance.” I opened my mouth to say no, but he continued, “I know you don’t line dance. I asked the deejay if he’d play something slower.”
Just then, the opening of an old Tim McGraw song filtered through the dance hall.
“What do you say?” Ian wasn’t smiling now. In fact, he looked very serious. The masculine throat I’d been admiring moved in a hard swallow.
There were a hundred reasons why I should say no. It was wrong to encourage this—whatever it was. He was young and temporary. We were more opposite than we could ever be alike.
But when I’d been thinking of Ian earlier, and how he hadn’t made a single move since admitting that he wanted to date me, I’d been ... well, I’d been disappointed, truth be told.
Maybe weweretoo different. His life was one I could never fit into. But I liked him. Had for a while now. He was charming and funny—which didn’t impress me much—but he was also humble and kind. A good man who loved his nephew and valued the people in his life.
If most women went for charisma and sex appeal, then I wasn’t ever going to be most women.
Integrity was what I valued. Loyalty was sexy as hell, in my book. Dedication was what did it for me.
So when Ian wiggled his fingers in invitation, I slipped my hand into his and nodded.
There was a moment—brief and humbling—when surprised delight flickered across Ian’s features. Something subtle, there and gone in an instant, but very clearly tinged with relief.
It felt like I’d made the right decision—the honest one.
He led me onto the center of the dance floor. No wallflower hovering on the fringes. Dozens of eyes focused on us as Ian slipped one arm around my waist and brought our linked fingers to rest against his chest.
Our movements were smooth as he guided us. It seemed unfair that a body that big and masculine should be graceful, too. He was warm as we shifted together, heat radiating from his tall frame.
“I noticed you weren’t partaking,” Ian said lightly.
“Not tonight. Someone has to get these drunk disasters home.”
Our attention strayed to the booth at the same time. And Jesus Christ, all six women were staring right at us. Immediately, they burst into a flurry of activity to appear nonchalant. Candace grabbed a bar menu the size of a postcard, and she and Bonnie both attempted to hide behind it. Larry and Corie turned toward one another and pretended to be deep in conversation. Mac, inexplicably, looked up at the ceiling as if she was expecting some rain any minute now. And Becca, God bless her. Becca grinned and gave us a little wave.
Ian chuckled even as I grumbled under my breath.
“You have good friends,” Ian said.
“You’re just saying that because they’re all on your side.”
“Whatever do you mean?” he playacted dramatically.
I snorted. “You know that if you kissed me right now, they’d stand up on that table and cheer.”
His eyes, still somehow bright and tempting, even in the spinning strobe lights, sparkled as he regarded me. “Ah, but what would you do, dear Joan, if I kissed you right now?”
I read the challenge in his words, the dare. But even though my brain knew he was teasing, my body didn’t. My throat went dry at the prospect. My heart rate kicked into a gallop.
He didn’t give me the chance to answer. Instead, he shook his head. “No, I know you better than that. You don’t have to worry.”
“Oh, really?”
