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The pink returns to her cheeks when I drop my hand to her hip and wrap my other around her back, pulling her close. She has to look up to meet my gaze, standing a good six inches shorter than me.
“Hey, Lucy,” I call over Finley’s head toward the bar. “Turn up the music. And play me a slow one, would ya?”
“’Cause I’m not trying to work or anything,” she hollers back, shaking her head at me. I flash her a smile and a wink, knowing she’ll do it anyway, before looking back down at the beauty in my arms.
“I thought you were calling my bluff. Everyone can slow dance.” Finley narrows her gaze at me and I have to fight the urge to laugh.
For someone who comes across so sweet, I’m learning very quickly this girl has no problem calling me on my shit.
“Not everyone.” I grin, pulling her in closer until her body is resting flush against mine. The sweet smell of honey and vanilla invades my senses and I pause, breathing in the intoxicating scent.
The music kicks on moments later and I can’t help but smile at the opening chords of Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.” I should have known Lucy would choose this song. She knows I’m a sucker for a good Van Morrison song.
Resting my face against the side of Finley’s head, I begin to move, swaying much slower than the tempo of the song, which isn’t very fast to begin with.
She melts into my embrace and allows me to lead, laughing when I step back, give her a little twirl, before pulling her back into my arms. I swear her laugh is the most incredible sound in the world.
I’ve never met someone like Finley. Someone, who after only a few short minutes of conversation, has me completely smitten. I don’t know what it is about her. What it is that makes her so different from so many countless others. But I do know one thing–I sure as hell plan to find out.
