“The magic of social media,” I say with a self-satisfied shrug.
The band starts playing a song that I freaking adore. It’s a super upbeat song called Las Tapas that’s so much fun. The bar is crowded, but Iggy and the other bartenders have it under control. I suddenly need to dance with my wife.
“This is one of my favorite songs. Want to dance, mi vida?”
Her smile is lit from within when she nods.
“Iggy, I’ll be back in five, ok?” I say, jerking my head toward the dance floor so he’ll know where I am.
“You got it!” he replies with a nod.
I lead Celeste through the throng of people to the dance floor and pull her in close, before startingto lead her through the steps. My head bends down toward her neck, breathing in her floral shampoo, before stopping at her ear.
“Have I told you how stunning you look?”
“You have now,” she says back in my ear, and I can feel her smile. “Thank you,” she adds.
“Always so polite,” I murmur.
“You know I am far from always polite,” she says with a hilariously impolite snort.
Heat courses through me thinking about how not polite she was asking me to get on my knees.
“I love it when you’re not polite,” I whisper before pressing a kiss to her hair.
Our feet move in tandem, our hips swaying together as the music takes over our bodies. She feels so perfect in my arms. When the song is over, I give her a little dip and kiss her, and she outright giggles. Her face is so relaxed and happy that my heart is testing the limits of my ribcage.
“I better get back behind the bar,” I say ruefully. “You want some food and a drink? My stupid ass had you out on the dance floor before you even had a chance to order anything.”
“I’m fine, I wouldn’t have wanted to dance on a full stomach anyway. I’ll have a margarita and some arepas now. Let’s go before poor Iggy is overwhelmed.”
We walk back toward the bar hand in hand when I notice an older guy eyeing Celeste with a glare. I can feel her clock him, too, because she freezes and lets out a heavy sigh.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she groans.
I don’t even get a chance to ask who he is when he comes charging over looking pissed.
“Hi, Harry. Pants are staying dry nowadays, I hope,” she says sweetly.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he sneers. He’s clearly a nasty fucker, and I am on high alert. Who the hell is this guy talking to my wife that way? My mouth opens to tell him off, but Celeste is already handling it herself.
“It’s a local bar near where I work and live, it’s not very hard math to do,” she snaps. “What brings you here on this lovely evening?”
“I wanted to see what all of the fuss was about,” he sniffs.
Harry then turns to me.
“If she threw water on my pants for only giving her a pat on the ass because she did a good job, I can’t even imagine what she’d do in a bar off the clock. Be careful with this one,” he warns conspiratorially, clearly thinking this is some kind of bro moment.
Everything in my freezes, and yet I see red at the same time.
“You did what now?”
I don’t even recognize my own voice, because I’ve never spoken so coldly to anyone. My fists are clenched at my side.
“All I did was pat her ass, it wasn’t a big deal, and she threw water on me. Made me and my friend have to leave the diner,” he says defensively, starting to read the room and realize I am two seconds away from decking him.
Unfortunately, punching his teeth out isn’t possible. It would be a liability and legal nightmare if I actually put my hands on him, so kicking him out will have to do. I’m in his face in the next second, trying to keep my anger as leashed as I can. It’s hard when I know how his unwanted touch must have made Celeste feel.
