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“Okay, I’m just going to say it,” Blake muttered. “Those two want to fuck.”
Kristen made a choking noise in dismay. “No way. Tori made a similar comment, and I figured she was way off her rocker. I mean Tori’s just cranky and pushing his buttons, and James… I don’t know what’s wrong with him, honestly.”
“Seriously?” Blake narrowed his eyes, realizing just how blinded to it she’d been. “You really are new at this, aren’t you?”
“Stop it.” She slapped him playfully on the chest with the back of her hand but didn’t pull her hand away. Her eyes widened slightly, and her fingers splayed, seeming to test just how firm he was again before she pulled back.
“So, um, what’s the plan, wingman?”
Good question. “I’m thinking an actual club. There’s one I know of that’s open on a Sunday and has dancing.”
“I can dance.”
“I remember.” He also remembered the way she’d gotten jumpy when his hand had strayed low on her back.
If she was hell-bent on seducing some guy, she needed to get over that.
“So, let’s find us a club.” He started the vehicle and headed for downtown.
All too soon they were in line outside a popular club, the bass from the techno music inside damn near thumping the sidewalk they stood on.
Damn. He hated clubs. He really did, and yet here he was.
Why?
As they paid their covers and slipped inside, he couldn’t quite answer that. He’d promised not to sabotage her efforts in meeting someone, yet the idea of it made his stomach sour.
“Can I get you a drink?” she offered, making her way to the bar.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Ah yes, you’ve gotta drive. Always the Boy Scout.” She smiled over her shoulder and went to order herself something.
Blake stepped back and glanced around the club, taking in the mass of bodies moving to the trance-like songs. He kept an eye out for any men checking out Kristen and picked up a few right away.
One at the end of the counter seemed especially interested. The man tossed back a shot of alcohol, slammed it on the counter, and made his approach.
Blake’s teeth snapped together. He hadn’t figured it would happen this fast. But maybe he should’ve.
A second later, the two were talking. Kristen’s gaze darted over to Blake, and he forced himself to raise a brow and give a slight nod.
“Hold this for me?” she murmured, slipping Blake her fancy drink before disappearing into the crowd with the new guy.
Blake glanced at the drink and sighed. He’d have to remind her to pace herself tonight. With the guys and with the alcohol.
He caught sight of her dancing with the guy, and her expression seemed a bit pained. Was she into him? Hated the song? Just nervous?
The urge to rush onto the floor and rescue her hit hard.
Nope. You’re doing exactly what you said you’d do, Blake. She sure as hell doesn’t need rescuing.
When the DJ spun one song into the next, she slipped away from the guy and came rushing back to Blake.
“Hey”—she grabbed her drink and took another sip—“do you think you could dance with me and help me loosen up? I tense up every time a guy puts his hands on me.”
The tightness in his muscles eased, and he gave her a slow smile. “So, you want me to help you practice dirty dancing?”
“Yeah, if you’re up for the task. I mean, I remember last night you said you’re not a fan of the fast stuff, but—”
“I’m up for it.”
