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Sheena, a stylist at the House of Hair, has tried to work her way through us since we came to town. But we’ve all been smart enough to leave her alone.
Until now.
What the hell is Wyatt doing?
Sheena’s trouble. Stilettoed, murderous, cold-blooded trouble.
I swear when I spy Fallon. She floats through the room like a shark, eyes narrowed, her slender body tense as a rod.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
Talk about the triangle of doom.
“Charlie?” Ruby’s soft voice calls me back. “What is it?”
“Nothin’,” I say, not wanting her to worry over Wyatt’s bullshit.
The faint strum of guitar strings catches my attention. Marvin’s butchering an old Alan Jackson song.
Fuck this. Fuck worrying about Wyatt. Fuck work.
Time to get this girl in my arms.
I slip Ruby’s hand into mine. “You wanna dance?” I ask, lifting a brow. “Check off that to-do list?”
I’m rewarded with a smile brighter than a hundred suns. “Yeah. I’d love to.” Her adorable nose scrunches. “I just don’t know how—”
“I got you.”
Before she can slide off her stool, I pick her up by the waist and set her next to me, my hand on the small of her back. She gasps when I whirl her into a spin.
Montgomery men aren’t shy about knowing their way around a dance floor. It’s what we were raised on—country music, two-stepping, and honky-tonks. Dancing gets your boot in doors, gets beautiful women in your arms, and right now, I’m a happy man.
“Scoot your boots, baby,” I drawl, locking my hand to hers.
Ruby laughs and hangs onto me. She’s light in my arms as I bring her into an easy two-step that she soon gets the hang of.
One song turns to two turns to three.
We cut our own private square on the dance floor, burning it up like wildfire. Tightening my hold on her, I keep her close, careful to keep her away from other idiots on the dance floor. Some asshole knocking into Ruby isn’t happening.
“Charlie,” she breathes, her smiling growing. “You’re going to spin me out of my shoes.”
I grin down at her.
The hem of her sundress flares up, and in that moment, I know God invented dance floors just so he could watch Ruby twirl in a skirt.
“That’s how you know you’re doing it right,” I murmur against her lips.
I hold her tight to my chest, pushing her into my body, wanting all of her against me. She giggles as I give her a twirl and rest a palm on her ass. Taking her hand again, I spin her out. When she comes back into me, I dip her low, tipping her head back until her hair meets the floor. Her lithe frame snaps back up, and all I can do is marvel. She’s gorgeous as hell, with her messy hair and flushed cheeks, all carefree and wild and blooming.
But then Ruby’s pulling away, her eyes wide and fearful. “Oh,” she gasps. “I need to stop, Charlie.”
Before I can grasp what’s happening, she tears out of my arms and grabs our table, rocking our second round of drinks. Beer sloshes over the sides of the glasses.
I don’t think. I just move.
I’m by her side instantly.
