We continue dancing silently through the next slow song, enjoying the music. My body shivers as his fingers graze the soft skin between my top and jeans.
When the music changes to something faster and even more people crowd onto the dance floor, I ask him if he wants to go back to the table for a drink. As much as I am enjoying being held in his strong arms and drowning in his scent, I know it’s dangerous and I need to create some distance.
This time it’s Ryan who takes my hand and leads me back to the table. We pass April and Vaughan dancing together, lost in their own private bubble.
Once we take our seats, Ryan pours us both generous servings of whiskey neat.
“You normally nurse one drink all night when we all go out to Bob’s,” I note. “What’s different about tonight?”
“Have you been watching me, Beck?” He smirks as he teases.
“I have eyes.”
Lifting one shoulder, he takes a drink. “I’m not a big drinker. Normally I volunteer to drive everyone home, but tonight, I just need to make it across the parking lot. I can have a couple.”
By my count, he has had more than a couple, but I’m not calling him out on it if he’s having fun. He could stand to have more fun.
Farrah approaches the table again and asks, “May I pour you another glass of champagne?”
“No, thank you. None for me.” I cover my flute with my hand and shake my head.
“What about something from the bar?” she suggests.
“Oh, I would love a cherry margarita with extra cherries, please.” Turning to Ryan, I ask, “What do you think, Pretty Boy? Do you want to do a shot with me?”
He hesitates briefly before saying, “One.” He holds up a finger. “I’ll do one shot.”
“Yeah,”—I dance in my seat—“Ryan’s going to get messy with me.”
“Settle down, Trouble. I said I would have one.”
Turning back to Farrah, I say, “Can you bring over a bottle of tequila, salt and limes, and four shot glasses as well, please?” April and Vaughan will be back at the table soon. I may as well get enough for all of us.
“Do you have a preference as to what kind of tequila?” she asks, looking between Ryan and me.
I glance to Ryan for the answer. I don’t know; we drink whatever Bob is serving back home.
“Gran Patron Platinum would be great. Thank you, Farrah.” He gives her a megawatt smile, and I feel a twinge of jealousy. I want to be on the receiving end of those dimples.
Farrah blushes and says, “Right away, sir.” We watch as she spins and rushes towards the bar.
“You have a new fan,” I mutter, reaching for my tumbler of whiskey, taking a sip. The taste is rich and smoky, with hints of vanilla and spice. As I swallow, the heat smooths out, spreading warmth throughout my body.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and he tracks my tongue as it sweeps along my bottom lip. Clearing his throat, he looks away.
“Did you have time to pick up Nana’s car today?” he asks, raising his own glass and bringing it to his lips.
“Carson dropped it off at the studio this afternoon. The tank is full of gas, and he has already paid the insurance for the year. You don’t know what a relief it is not to have to worry about finding a new car. Dillon even did a safety check on it, so hopefully you won’t have to rescue me on the side of the road again anytime soon.”
A piece of his hair has fallen over his forehead, and I resist the urge to push it back in place.
“I’m glad it’s all working out,” he says.
Farrah returns to the table with my margarita and the tequila. Ignoring me, she beams at Ryan as she fills all four shot glasses and slides one towards him. “Can I get you anything else, Mr. Sampson? Mr. Sinclair told me to take good care of you this evening.”
“No, that will be all, thank you,” he says, dismissing her as he raises his whiskey glass to his mouth.
“I’ll check back with you soon in case you change your mind,” she says, turning from the table, sashaying away with a deliberate sway of her hips.
