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“You sound surprised by that. What did you think it would be like? A bunch of people chasing pigs through the mud in ripped jeans and line dancing?”
“No. . . Well, maybe a little.” Giggling, he laughs with me. “But no. I'm just used to weddings that are. . .” Letting my voice trail off, I try to pick my words wisely. I don't want to offend him. This is where he lives.
“Built for the rich and famous?”
“Yeah, basically.” Agreeing, I catch Jenna making a beeline for the house. “Huh,” I say under my breath.
“What?” he asks, following my gaze.
She runs up to the house quickly and disappears inside. Mark looks around the room, and that's when we see Ryder talking to one of Jenna's and my friend, Tara. She points to the house, and he nods, sending him in the same direction as Jenna.
“Hm, wonder what's going on,” Mark says into his drink.
His lips make a slurping noise, drawing my eyes right to them. Lowering the glass, he licks his lips with deliberate slowness. Biting on my bottom lip, my mind starts to twirl with thoughts of his lips against my skin. Kissing my neck and moving down my throat until he finds more exposed skin to taste.
Mark coughs, drawing me out of my daze. My eyes move up to his and he smiles coyly.
I'm caught.
Bashfully, I twist my head in the other direction, embarrassment flushing my cheeks. “Yeah, I have no idea, but they both ran off quick.”
“I'm happy for them. You know, I honestly thought me and Ryder were going to be bachelors forever. Boy was I wrong, huh?” He chuckles to himself, looking deep into the liquor in his glass.
“Yeah, well I thought Jenna and I would be drinking mimosas every Sunday morning for at least another two or three years before she got swept away for her design career. I don't think that's happening anymore. Looks like we were both wrong.”
He laughs again and holds his glass in my direction. “To change,” he says.
Clinking my glass against his, we both finish what's left. “So, what about you? What are your plans now that you're going solo?”
Shrugging his shoulder, he sets the glass down on the table. “I don't plan on a changing a thing. I'm a mechanic, and that keeps me busy enough.” He sounds slightly bitter. His voice is flat, but I can see it in his eyes. “What about you?”
“I don't know. I'll figure it out. It'll just be weird for a bit is all.” Glancing up at the house, I look to see if they're coming back, but they're not. “I'm happy for them too, everyone deserves to find someone who makes them happy.”
“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, shaking his head. “You want to dance?”
I don't have a chance to answer before Mark grabs my hand and pulls me to the dance floor. The small stage is built with pallets and plywood. The surface is laminate tiles that look like wood, and there are strings of lights wrapping the beams overhead.
Mark takes my hand and holds it, placing my other hand on his shoulder. His thick fingers curl around my waist as he tugs me in closer. He starts to sway to the music, leading me in a circle.
“You ever listen to country in the city?” he asks, sweeping me elegantly around to the beat.
“No, not really. I went to a line dancing bar once with a few friends to check it out, but it wasn't really my thing.”
“That's because you need to know how to dance first, before trying that.”
Arching a brow, I smirk. “Are you saying I can't dance?”
“I'm not saying anything, your feet are.” He looks down. “You've stepped on me twice.”
Giggling, I smack his chest. “Hey,” I snap playfully.
Mark tightens his arm around my waist and dips me unexpectedly. “Lucky for you, I know what I'm doing.”
I can't stop from smiling as he holds me, letting me hover dangerously close to the floor, but I'm not scared that he's going to drop me. I can feel it in his touch, and see it in his eyes, he won't let me go.
