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She wanted to give him a show and I wanted to hide. But I thought about her words earlier. About how she thought I was snobby and I was giving her more mixed signals than her first boyfriend. I didn’t want to be that way. I didn’t want to be that girl. But I also didn’t know how to be anything but what I was.
And a big part of me just wanted to fade away. But another part of me was begging to be set free. It was a small part, but it was enough that I wanted to try.
I wanted to be better than this. Than what I’d become. Because life had fully ruined me. And I was sick of being miserable and jailed by my circumstances. So I took another healthy sip of my drink and grabbed Miranda by the arm, dragging her from her stool. “Come on, then. Let’s go.”
Fuck it.
The first minutes on the floor, I had to admit, were awkward as hell. But a little more alcohol and Miranda grinding against my backside made me throw caution to the wind.
My face felt hot from the drink, but I felt good. Loose. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t worrying or sad or scared to death.
I felt like a weight had been lifted from my chest in those few precious moments of dancing. They seemed so few and far between now.
I moved on the dance floor, gyrating my hips, the liquor making me feel giddy and young, and I hadn’t felt those things since I’d last seen Andy when he’d come home on one of his deployments. Miranda joined me, Coke in hand, her ass shaking, and I giggled.
She was fun and silly and I could tell the night out was good for her, too. Although, I did wonder how long it would be before Holden showed up to drag her ass out of this club. I’d been surprised he’d encouraged our night out. He didn’t seem like the type of guy to let his woman out of his sight for long. Oh well, I decided we had better live it up while we could and gave Miranda’s jiggling ass a smack.
Her head flew back in laughter. Raising my arms above my head, I bounced my forty-year-old ass like it was only twenty.
I rolled my body and Miranda raised her glass in the air with a, “Get it, girl!”
That was when I felt them. Hot eyes on me and I turned my head back to the bar when the dark-headed gentleman with even darker eyes was still seated and sure enough, those midnight orbs were zoned in on my ass and hips.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t hate a man looking at me.
A man was checking me out. And I wasn’t plagued with guilt or disgust. Instead, my body warmed all over and what felt like molten lava ran through my veins. My skin prickled beneath his gaze.
So, instead of turning away and pretending I didn’t see him watching me, I watched him, too, my eyes daring him to do something.
What? I didn’t know. I was severely out of practice and he looked like he was very much out of my league. But the alcohol made me brave or maybe dumb.
Who the hell knew? But for the first time in years, some male attention didn’t sound awful. It actually sounded fun and I deserved some fun, right? That was what people kept telling me, anyway.
But were dark men with even darker eyes who rode motorcycles fun? I knew one thing for sure. They weren’t my type.
I thought of Andy and his blond hair and blue eyes. How he was tall and lanky and goofy and loved his girls more than anything in the universe. How when he laughed he did it with his whole body and soul.
That guy at the bar didn’t look like he’d ever laughed in his life. He looked exactly how I felt on the inside. And maybe that was why I didn’t look away. Maybe I couldn’t. His darkness called to mine.
He was the first to break eye contact and I smiled as he slipped off his stool and slithered off into the dark. I’d won. I hadn’t backed down.
Take that, sucka!
Approximately twenty seconds later, I was attempting to twirl Miranda when she stopped me by grabbing my arm. My eyes shot to hers in question because I had no idea what the hell was going on. She gave me big eyes and looked up and to the right side of my head. My first inclination was to ask her if she needed to go to the bathroom, but I got my answer swiftly when I felt two large warm hands land on my waist and a wide male body hot against my back.
I felt a smile creep across my face as Miranda’s big eyes looked up and up some more before they became dreamy. And then I knew.
Before I even felt his large hands land on the span of my hips, I could tell by the sheer look of joy in Miranda’s big brown eyes that it was the good-looking man from the bar, the one who’d let me win our staring contest so that he could come and get me.
And despite how awkward and unprepared I felt with the first bit of real male attention in a long damn time, I pulled myself together. I hadn’t had a man’s hands on me in years and never any other than my husband. Despite myself, I didn’t turn around and look at him like I wanted to. I didn’t freeze up or panic either.
Instead, I handed Miranda my drink and placed my hands over his on my hips and ran my small fingers over his rough ones. It was obvious from the feel of them that he was clearly a man who worked with his hands and surprisingly I liked how their rough warmness felt under mine.
I gave Miranda a soft smile to let her know I was good and she gave me a head nod before turning back toward the bar, away from us.
After all, I’d invited him over here with my eyes and I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I was good. I could do this, I told myself. I was a grown woman with a kid. I could dance with a man in a bar. A very sexy, dark, scary man.
