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A surge of jealousy ran through me remembering Callie with Andrew, his hand over hers. I told myself it was the professional thing to do. To prevent her from deciding she was tired of staying in and seeing Andrew. Again.
“Fine. We can go, have a couple of drinks tomorrow. As long as it keeps you from doing something like you did today.”
“I’m looking forward to it!” she said, flashing me a bright smile.
I wasn’t looking forward to it. It was going to be fucking hard to keep my distance in a crowded bar. I had to stay close to protect her. And the more time I spent with her, the more I wanted her.
And the less I wanted to hold myself back.
15
CALLIE
The next daypassed like molasses, with Blake busy at work and getting home late. He asked me about any more threat messages—there weren’t any—and if anything else out of the ordinary might have happened. It hadn’t.
When Blake came in the door, I was already showered, made up, and dressed for a night out.
I wore a black knee-length dress similar to the one I’d worn the night we met with low pumps. This dress was lower cut, so the pendant hung just above the dip in the neckline.
I put my hair up in a loose bun with a few curled strands trailing down my neck on both sides. I felt dressed up, but not too formal since it was a smokehouse and not a fancy restaurant.
“Wow,” he said when he saw me, smiling slowly. “You look…ready for a night out.”
I didn’t think that was what he meant to say, but the impressed look on his face was compliment enough. “Thanks.”
“Let me shower and change, just be a minute.”
It really only took him five or ten minutes. He came downstairs in black denim jeans and a fitted grey shirt that showed off his muscular physique.
“You look great. Am I overdressed?” I asked.
He scoffed, tilting his head, like he couldn’t believe I’d asked, and motioned for the door. “Nope. Don’t change a thing.”
The Smokehouse Saloon had a nice atmosphere and a pretty good crowd, especially at the long L-shaped bar.
And it had a dedicated dance floor. It was roped off and empty, but a banner hung on the wall that declared it “Swing Night” starting at eight o’clock.
“Looks like dancing starts in half an hour. I didn’t know we’d be dancing.” I was even more excited about my night out.
“We won’t be. I didn’t realize it when I picked this place. Used to only have it on the weekends.”
“Come on,” I said. “Don’t be a spoilsport. You can’t bring a dancer to a dance night and expect her to just sit and watch everybody else.”
We sat at one of the several tables, Blake pulling out the chair for me, the one with its back to the dance floor. On purpose, no doubt.
Dinner was delicious, and instead of the red wine I might have ordered somewhere else, I ordered the same bottled beer as Blake.
When the music started, I couldn’t help but turn around to watch the dancers having fun. After two songs of me watching and absorbing some of the repeated moves, I turned and gave Blake my best pleading eyes.
“Come on, Blake. Dance with me.”
He sat with arms crossed. “Not really in the mood.”
I watched and clapped and laughed along as different couples broke out and drew crowds as they showed off their skills. Occasionally, I glanced back at Blake with puppy dog eyes, but he didn’t budge.
“I’ll get us another beer,” he said.
He tried to flag down the waitress but gave up and let me know he’d be right back before he went to the bar for the drinks.
