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We walk in companionable silence. I’m trying so hard to keep things impersonal that I don’t even know what to talk about. What topic is safe? Certainly, not our real jobs.
“Where are you from?” he asks, as if sensing my conundrum.
“I was born in New Jersey but moved to Boston for college. I live in the suburbs now and work in Boston but I’m considering getting an apartment so I don’t have to commute any longer.” I hadn’t actually decided that until this moment but now that I’ve said it, I know it’s true. I’m sure Marion will let me stay at her apartment until I figure things out, but after that I think living in the city will be good for me.
Also talk about word vomit. Why did I just tell him that?
“Ah, a Jersey Girl. I should have known.” His eyes twinkle as he looks at me.
I nudge him with my arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
His eyes crinkle. “Oh, all that sauciness you were giving me earlier makes more sense now.”
I laugh out loud and people around us turn and stare. I cover my mouth and shake my head. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“Good, I don’t want to be like any of the men you’ve met before.” His eyes meet mine again, and I inhale as if I’ve just come up for air after diving into the ocean. That’s how it feels with him. Dizzying, intoxicating, and free.
I’m honest. “You’re not.”
I stare up at the stars. It’s warm outside and the breeze sways the palm trees around us. I can hear the ocean, but it’s a mere shadow only highlighted by the moon. Warm fire dances on tiki torches lining the path that we walk.
Cash stops walking and stares down at me. “Dance with me?” he says smoothly, holding out his hand.
“What?”
His dimple pops again. “Dance with me.”
I look around. “But there’s no music. And people will stare.”
He shrugs his eyebrows, unconcerned. “Fuck ’em.”
A surprised laugh leaves my throat, and I lean into his embrace, surprising even myself. “Do you always woogirls by dancing with them?”
His laughter tickles my ear, his warm breath caressing my soft sensitive skin. We start to move slowly, my hand in one of his hands, my other arm around his neck—proper dancing, not like we’re in middle school. I find myself caring less about the people around us than I normally would. “I don’t normally have to work this hard,” he says in a low voice near my ear.
“Where do you live?” I ask, breaking one of my rules. If I’m not careful, I’ll have incinerated the rule book by the time this dance is over.
Cash’s thumb moves back and forth over my hand, and his other one holds the small of my back tightly, his five fingers splayed flat against my back warming me. “In the city. Grew up there actually.”
“That must have been fun.”
He laughs softly in my ear. “My brothers and I certainly had a good time.”
“You have brothers?”
“Yup, Carter, my older brother, and Chase is younger. I also have a sister, but she was in boarding school for a while, so she didn’t run around with us as much.”
I smile and his grip on my back tightens. “What are you smiling about?”
“Just that I was clearly right.”
He raises his eyes. “About?”
“That you come from money.” I look at him pointedly and he shrugs his shoulders.
“Something like that. So, what are you running away from this weekend?”
My shoulders stiffen. “Why do you think I’m running from something? Are you?”
