Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Mace scooted to the far side of the seat to allow me room beside him. My eyes narrowed at all this closeness as he gestured for me to sit, wondering what had taken over my guy’s body.
Chapter 21
Slade
As the night wore on, the small restaurant and bar came alive. Balls were knocked around pool tables, the dart board had a decent line of throwers waiting for their chance to play, and the jukebox never wavered in blaring out various music tunes.
“Drink up,” I encouraged Mace from my seat beside him in the booth. Austin hadn’t lied, Kitt could dance and did so willingly. They’d ditched us about thirty minutes ago for the dance floor. Since Mace had lit up, happy to be sitting here with me, I did what I did best and pushed for more. “I wanna dance with you.”
“I told you I’ve barely danced in my life, and that includes all the weddin’s I had to attend as a boy. This isn’t gonna turn out however you have in your head. I’m not gonna be good at it.” While I had a slight slur in my voice, Mace’s was stronger.
I slowly watched Mace turn into the man he was the first night he was at my home. Fun, happy, and present. His palm rested on my thigh, his face turned to better see me.
“We’ve got all night for me to change your dancing skill,” I said. I had the length of my arm rested on the back of the booth seat as I caressed a palm over Mace’s shoulder. “Take a long drink and come out there with me.” I gently scooted the beer bottle closer to Mace with my other hand.
“No,” he said firmly. Some might say that his tone left no room for argument. “You’re a trained dancer. I’ll embarrass you.”
“Not gonna happen. Come on.” I loved to dance. It very rarely happened these days, but every time I found the chance, I took it. I had a natural rhythm, or so I’d been told often enough, and a lifetime of extensive training, all of which made me the ideal partner for Mace. I could teach him. Decision made, I scooted out of the seat, extending my hand to him.
Not that shocking, Mace didn’t budge or accept the offering.
“I really can’t dance,” he said and lifted the beer bottle to drain its contents.
“Liquid courage. Come on.” I stretched my hand farther. “I’ll handle the rest.” With reluctant hesitation, he did finally scoot out of his seat. He bypassed my handhold, so I took his to give myself a small twirl, but he denied me that too, so I stepped into him to gather him in my arms. “Texas two-step. Two small steps to the right, one larger one to the left. I’ll guide.”
“This isn’t country music,” Mace said, standing rooted in his spot when I began to move.
“I know,” I said and nodded encouragingly. “It’s ‘No Room for a Saint’ by Dom Dolla. The F1 movie I starred in. I feel like my boyfriend should know things like that. Now concentrate.” I took him into my arms again and tested a step.
Surprisingly, Mace did move his feet with me, his gaze locked on his boots.
I’d give him a minute before I lifted his chin to focus his gaze on mine.
=♥=
Mace
It didn’t take long until I was laughing, having a great time, as we boot-scooted across the floor.
Four songs later, sweat trickled down the side of my temple. Slade had lied. He was more than a dancer. He was a professional who happened to be on the dance floor. I had no idea how I looked executing these moves, or if I truly kept up since I was now walking backward in front of him, but Slade Whitaker continued to whisper all breathy in my ear, telling me exactly which moves were coming and how to handle each step of the way. Sometimes the tip of his tongue nibbled at my earlobe. I liked that move a lot.
Honestly, that might have been the best night of my life.
“I need a drink,” I yelled against the amped-up volume of the jukebox.
“You dance better than you claimed,” he said, this time his lips pressed against my ear, sending a sudden shiver racing down my spine. His arms locked tightly around me, bringing me flush against his chest. “I’m having a good time.”
“Me too, but I need a drink. Probably water to help sober me up,” I answered, putting both my hands on his biceps to push out of his hold.
He fought to keep me locked against him.
“Everyone’s starin’ at us, Slade.” This time I had more success at escaping his hold, but he followed, untroubled by the minimal distance between us.
“Everyone’s staring at you,” he countered, winking, and that made me laugh right in his face.