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“Thanks for that. I’m not sure what’s going on with Jeremy. He’s usually not so—”
“The guy’s a dick, Rox. I swear, if he fucking touches you again, I’ll demolish him.”
She opened her mouth to make some sort of sarcastic comment about Joe being a macho neanderthal, but the raging fire in his eyes gave her pause. The man was practically pulsing with anger, and it hurt her heart.
“Hey,” she said softly, drawing out the word. Lifting her hands from his broad shoulders, she framed his face. “Calm down. Please. He didn’t hurt me.”
“He had his goddamn hand on you,” he hissed, blue eyes alight.
“But he didn’t hurt me.” She ran a thumb over his pursed lips. “He’s not worth your anger, Joe. Don’t give Jeremy another thought. Please.” After a moment of silence, she flashed him a teasing grin and linked her fingers behind his neck. “Instead, think about how you—the mighty, anti-dancing Joseph Buchanan—are on the dance floor this very minute. In the center.Willingly, I might add.”
He sucked in a long breath, and on his exhale, a grin spread across his handsome face. Just like that, the tension drained from his shoulders. “Yeah, well. It was either dance with you or Mrs. Green. I chose the lesser of two evils.”
She chuckled. “Surprisingly, you’re notthatbad of a dancer. You’ve only stepped on my toes twice.”
He scoffed. “In your dreams, baby.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him not to call her baby, but before she could, he pulled her closer. His arms tightened around her waist, and for the second time that day, she had to remember how to breathe.
They danced to a slow song in comfortable silence, heads tucked together. His fingers began tracing lazy circles on the small of her back, just above where the material of her dress ended, and goosebumps erupted over her bare skin. She relaxed into his chest, begging her mind to be quiet. To let her enjoy this moment.
She didn’t want to think about how comfortable it was to be wrapped in his arms. She didn’t want to think about how the soft, woodsy scent of his aftershave soothed her. But most of all, she didn’t want to think about how he’d been looking at her right before he’d tucked her into his warm embrace.
Roxie did not understand what was going on between them. This newfound attraction unnerved her. And yet, at the same time, it sent butterflies fluttering about her stomach in anticipation. Of what, she wasn’t quite sure.
Taking a deep breath, she molded her body more completely to his. He held her tighter, and heat bloomed low in her belly.
They were playing with fire. And she had a feeling they both knew it.
CHAPTERELEVEN
What the hell were you thinking last night?
Biting back a groan, Roxie pulled her neon-green running jacket over her head.
Dancing with Joe had been amazing. Flat-out exhilarating. And despite the ballroom’s tacky overabundance of glitter and tulle, there’d been an electric charge in the air. The entire night had had a magical quality to it that she would never forget. Especially since, without saying anything out loud, she and Joe had acknowledged this ridiculous new attraction between them.
After their dance, they had stuck together for the remainder of the evening, invading each other’s personal bubbles in very non-friendly ways. Like his hand lingering on her lower back. Or her leaning against him as she’d grown tired.
Now it was a new day. There was no live band, no balloon archway, no fancy clothes. Now, she had no idea how the hell she was supposed to act around the man.
She felt awkward. And shehatedawkward. But even worse?
She was nervous. Stupidly nervous. Avoid-him-for-the-rest-of-her-life nervous.
A bit dramatic? Absolutely. But it was also the truth.
With unsteady fingers, she laced up her running shoes. Her plan for the day was to avoid Joe at all costs—because the for-the-rest-of-her-life bit was unfortunately unrealistic.
The first step? Sneaking out for her morning run. Because she was mature like that.
Roxie queued up her loudest playlist, then slipped her phone into the leg pocket of her running pants. After taking care to silently shut her bedroom door, she crept toward the staircase.
Her blood hummed in anticipation. She’d missed her morning runs, the peace and solitude of only having to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. The cold, crisp air of the sea and the earthy scents of the forest always worked wonders on resetting her mind. Afterward, she’d tackle whatever the day threw at her.
Running made everything better. Well, except for the other day.
She paused mid-step.
