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Elsewhere, people are beginning to abandon their tables and move to the dance floor. Conner disappears for a few minutes. When he returns, he extends a confident hand my way.
“It’s our time,” he says.
“For what?”
He grins. “To make everyone here jealous.”
I fidget in my seat. Nothing appropriate comes to mind.
Conner drops to one knee. “Haven Marchenko,pleasedo me the honor of accepting this dance.”
There are now quite a few people ogling the scene.
Dani nudges Gage. “Come on, let’s all take to the dance floor. Tess just dragged Micah out there.”
At first Gage looks less than thrilled about being ordered to dance, but ultimately he gives his wife a smile and gathers her in his arms.
Conner watches them. “See? Everyone’s doing it.”
It’s no big deal. Just a wedding dance. And it won’t kill me to give him the benefit of the doubt for a few minutes.
I stand up without accepting his hand. “Let’s go.”
Conner grabs my hand anyway and pulls me to the center of the dance floor. He wastes no time transitioning to some ballroom dance pose and marching me around.
“What are you doing?” I’m already getting whiplash.
“We’re waltzing. This is a waltz.”
“This is NOT a waltz. I don’t know what this is.”
He is unconcerned. He’s also a cheerfully terrible dancer. “Maybe it’s a tango.”
“Well, take it down a notch or you’ll be waltzing by yourself.”
He laughs and slows down, sliding an arm around my waist. “Better? I love this song. I asked the DJ to play it. Are you a fan of Napoleon Dynamite?”
Maybe he’s already drunk. “What?”
Conner spins me in a circle. We narrowly miss colliding with Dani and Gage. “Napoleon Dynamite. Great movie.”
“Never heard of it.”
His arm tightens around my waist. “That’s too bad. This song is played at a very pivotal moment when Napoleon’s date ditches him at the school dance while he’s in the bathroom eating a snack.”
I’m distracted by the pressure of his arm around my waist. I haven’t quite figured out what to do with my hands so they’re kind of awkwardly propped on his broad shoulders. “Who the hell goes to the bathroom to have a snack?”
“Can’t answer that. I don’t want to ruin the plot for you.” He abruptly dips me and I’m so startled that I let out an odd squeak.
Conner’s steady hands return me to an upright position. We’re closer now, much closer. My breasts are pressed against the concrete wall of his chest.
Fuck, he’s hot. Outrageous. Unfair.
A flash of fire curls in my belly and settles lower. I blame the fact that I haven’t been fucked in half a year, a significant dry spell. And this is a bad time for a fragment of an old conversation to replay in my head.
“I want to keep going. Conner, I want to do it.”
Someone should have invented some kind of brain scraper to get rid of humiliating memories. I would clean out my savings to rid myself of the one where I’m begging Conner Wiseman to screw me at a high school party.
