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Twist,grab, flick the wrist, tug her back, and dip, I silently chant, pressing my hand against Kate’s back. I wasn’t kidding when I said it’d been a while since I’d practiced any country dancing, but I wanted to make Kate happy, and with the massive grin on her face, I’d say it’s working.
The lights are dim, and the scent of smoked meats hangs in the air, but the dance floor lacks any peanut shells––for now––and we figured dancing before dinner might be a smart idea. After a single drink at the bar, which she assured me was fine, she insisted I teach her some moves, and here we are.
“Okay, what now?” she asks, turning to me.
I grab her hands but keep my elbows tucked at my sides. “All right. Step one. The basic step. You keep your hands on top, and I keep mine on the bottom. Got it?”
“Yup.”
“Good. Take your left foot and step in front of me while angling it to your right.” She does as she’s told, and I follow suit, causing our legs to mirror each other as I help her pull away slightly, then tug her back to me. Slowly, we move in a circle as she gets used to it. Once she’s comfortable, I announce, “Now, let’s do the back slide.”
“Okay?”
I demonstrate it, and she slides her hand against my lower back, stepping behind me as I catch her palm, spin her around, and bring her back to our original position. The girl’s a natural and pieces the moves together almost instantly. We practice it a few more times when she says, “Okay. Next move.”
She’s a quick learner. And soon, we’re both spinning around the dance floor. She looks so carefree like this. Happy. Relaxed. Another song comes on, and I can’t help but pull her close, leaning forward and murmuring, “Trust me?”
She nods. “Yeah, why?”
“I have another move in mind.”
“Okay?”
“We’re gonna do another dip, but this time, I’m going to grab your throat.”
“Oh, really?” She quirks her brow, intrigued.
“Hold onto my wrist with both hands when I bring you to the floor and keep your legs straight instead of bending your grounded leg. Got it?”
“Grab your wrist and keep my legs straight. Got it.”
Around and around, we go, twisting and turning and backsliding as the beat turns a little darker. Sexier. I spin her around, grab her throat, and dip her. Down she goes, the lights casting shadows along her gorgeous parted lips. I pull her back up and kiss the shit out of her, my hand still wrapped around her throat. I can’t help it. This girl. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met. And seeing her come out of her shell? Seeing her break down those walls?
Fuck.
I might love her.
She slips her hands around my shoulders, tangling her fingers in the short strands of hair at the nape of my neck, and scrapes them gently against my scalp. I nearly groan. The feeling shoots straight to my groin as we sway back and forth. When a throat clears, it breaks through the haze we’d been lost in.
As if she’s been caught sneaking out after curfew, Kate jerks away from me, folds her arms, and leaves a solid foot of distance between us while I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, finding a worried Rowdy behind me.
Confused by the interruption, I clear my throat. “Uh, hey, Rowdy. Sorry, if we––”
“A girl who looked a shit-ton like Hazel just ran out of here, man,” Rowdy warns. His cowboy hat is pulled low, but it doesn’t stop me from noticing his eyes darting toward the exit. “Figured you’d wanna know.”
My brows furrow. “Hazel? M-my Hazel?”
Rowdy nods.
“Crap,” Kate mutters, looking shy and nervous as shit, twisting her hands in front of her as she stares at the exit.
Scrubbing my hand over my face, I shake my head and stride back to our table, finding my keys and ushering Kate to the car. If Hazel saw me with Kate, she’ll be pissed. She might even think I orchestrated it or some shit, and our relationship is already shaky enough as it is.
There aren’t any texts from Hazel, Summer, or Miley when I check my phone, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I need to talk to Hazel. I need to explain. I need to make sure she’s okay.
Hazel’s contact info lights up the screen, and I push the call button after I turn on the car. I need to clear this up. I need to fix this.
“Pick up, Haze,” I mutter. “Please pick up.”
