Page 34 of Dancing Struggles


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His mouth comes in, so close, but he doesn’t kiss me. And everything in me is focused in on that. Our breaths mingle, and I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a kiss more in my life.

“Or maybe we’ve met.”

“I’d remember.”

He dips in, but the words are cold water all over me, and I push him away.

Leland’s eyes narrow. “Sarah?”

“I don’t want you touching me or kissing me.”

“Sarah?” He catches hold of me as I turn to go and pulls me back. “What’s your problem here?”

I pull off his jacket and slap it against his chest. “You’re hot. You know it. I’m not interested, okay?”

“Fine.” He steps back and pulls on his jacket. “Deny what we have between us, that it’s not burning brightly, if you can.”

“I can.”

“I said if. Because you want it.”

I raise my chin and take a step back. “I might be attracted, but that’s it. I don’t like your type—”

“You don’t know my type.”

Bitterness stings my mouth. I do. That’s the thing. I very much do. “Tell me when your last long-term relationship was, Leland.”

He frowns. “What the fuck has that got to do with anything? Are you looking for starred reviews?”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s all you’re going to get.”

“You mean you haven’t really had one, maybe not since you were a teen, and maybe not even then. Or did some lucky girl get to call you hers while you were in college? See, I’m betting you’ve coasted on those looks to get all the pussy you want. I know you, and I know your kind.”

“Fuck you. You don’t know shit.”

He turns and stalks off before I can say another word, and to my horror, standing there is Dakota, her smile and glow replaced with shock.

“Tell me,” she says, “you don’t have a problem with him.”

“I . . .”

“Because from where I’m standing, you most definitely do.” She shifts and walks up to me, giving me a hug. “I came to show you the ring and to thank you for planning this for Lawson. But I just . . .”

I breathe out and hug her back. “Congratulations, Dakota. If anyone deserves this, it’s you. And . . .” Releasing her, I step back and lean my ass on the rail, way too aware it’s where Leland looked out at the night-soaked land. I sigh. “I don’t.”

I do, and we both know it.

Folding my hands in front of me, I shrug. “I’ve got a problem with men. All men in general.”

“The not-so-ex? I-I called Leland to talk to you about representation, and maybe I shouldn’t have. I didn’t tell him anything. That’s up to you, but . . .”

“Hey,” she comes up and leans on the post near me, “Dakota, I’m not mad. You were looking out for me, but you need to realize I don’t need help.”

“You do.”

I ignore her. “This is your night. Don’t worry about me or anything else. Go be with Lawson.”

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