Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
So I dance with him. I laugh because I’ve had a couple of drinks, and they’ve definitely taken the edge off. I laugh, smile, let him touch my hips and show me how to follow him. Then he trails my arms up until they’re around his neck, and we gyrate together in a kind of dirty-dancing style. I drift with him, slide with him, angle my body with his.
It’s kind of fun.
It would be more fun if I were doing it with someone who actually wanted to dance with me, but hey, a girl takes what she can get. Not my normal MO, but after three drinks? Whatever.
One glance toward our table, and I see Isabella and Gigi are still all smiles. Gigi is especially hooting the loudest for me to “get in there.”
I laugh and look back at the hunk’s face. He’s quite handsome, of course. Brown eyes, a brown goatee, and the long brown hair and man bun. Add a sculpted jaw line and I let myself go. I move with him, slide into the dirty dancing…
I can’t help myself.
I look toward the table once more, just to revel in the fact that Isabella and Gigi are jealous of—
Uh-oh.
My heart flips at the beautiful face I see.
Jackson is here.
He’s glaring at me.
What occurs next happens so quickly, I can’t quite put it together in my mind.
One second, I’m dancing onstage.
The next…Jackson’s imposing presence makes the dancer back off and move away from me.
“Get down from there,” Jackson says.
I can’t actually hear him over the loud music, but there’s no mistaking the movement of his full lips. Though he’s being dominant and ridiculous, I can’t help myself.
I obey him.
No communication in a month, and I obey him.
I obey him without question, even against my better judgment, as my heart races and I tremble. Jackson is here. For me. Is he finally ready to admit there’s something more than friendship between us?
Once I’m off the stage, he takes my arm and leads me through the crowd.
When we’re outside the club, Jackson covers me in his jacket—a new one, since the old one’s in the dumpster behind my building.
“What were you doing up there?”
“Dancing.”
He scoffs. “I’m not sure that’s what I’d call it.”
“It’s a male revue. I’m supposed to have fun.” I let out a huff. “For God’s sake, Jack, it’s Frankie’s bachelorette party.”
He grips my shoulders. “Damn it, Mandy.”
“It wasn’t my idea. The guy pulled me up to the floor.”
“You didn’t have to go.”
“You’re right. I didn’t. No one held a gun to my head. Maybe I wanted to go, Jack. Did you ever think of that?”
“This isn’t like you.”
I move one of his hands off my shoulders and shrug free of the other one. “How do you know what’s like me and what’s not? I haven’t heard from you in a month, Jackson. A month.” I can’t help the break in my voice on the last word.
“The phone works both ways,” he says softly.
I hold his gaze. What was he saying? He was waiting on me to call him?
He drops my arm, and a look of—I’m not sure—sorrow? crosses his features, landing in those gorgeous green-gold eyes.
He’s quiet for a few seconds, until— “Do you still want to go to the club?”
I’m so shocked, I can only blink up at him. It’s nearly one in the morning, so the club is probably still open. But do I still want to go with him? If the pounding of my heart is any indication, I know the answer.
I nod as I text Frankie that I’m leaving. I don’t want her to worry.
Jackson hails a cab, and before I know it, we’re settled into the back seat and pulling away from the curb.
He pulls a velvet choker out of his pants pocket. “You’ll need this.” He secures it around my neck.
“Maybe I don’t need it.” I hesitate a moment. “Maybe I want other men to pay attention to me at the club.”
“Damn it, Mandy. You really have no idea what this is all about, do you?”
I rest a hand on his arm. “You don’t give me enough credit for knowing my own mind,” I say. “When will it stop, Jack? I don’t hear from you in more than a month and—”
“The phone works both ways, Mandy.”
What, is he stuck on repeat? His words only frustrate me further.
“You’re the one who should’ve reached out. You’re the one who refused to answer my question that night.”
He seems to have no answer for that, for which I’m grateful. We spend the rest of the cab ride in silence.
Continuing in silence, we exit the cab, and I’m still wearing Jackson’s jacket. It’s a brisk night, and he must be cold.
And you know what? I don’t give a damn.
He pulls the blindfold out of his pocket next.
“Mandy—”
“Yeah, yeah. I know the freaking drill. Put the damned thing on me.”