Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
And that was fine. Good. At least he wasn’t bored and miserable.
Where the hell was Boogie?
Somehow, Zac must have sensed my approach because his eyes instantly swung toward me the second I got close enough, and I saw the truth. He was smiling, but it was his polite smile, not the real one that was so bright it lit him up from the inside out.
I smirked.
One corner of his mouth hooked up higher than the other.
His new companions must have seen him stop paying attention to them because when they spotted me making my way over, two of them pushed their chairs back and got up, which was weird, but okay.
“There she is,” Zac called out as I stopped behind the chair that I’d been sitting in and sucked back my leftover watered-down lemonade.
He held his own glass up toward me, and I took it and drank it all too. I was thirsty.
“Sorry, ladies,” my friend said as he got to his feet as I set his glass on the table. “I owe someone a dance.”
He did?
“She’s so busy I had to schedule it in,” he lied as he shoved his chair under the table.
He was using me as an excuse to get away. All right. My feet hurt, and I wanted to sit down, but I wouldn’t leave him hanging.
I made eye contact with my second cousin, who had been one of the people surrounding him and the only one I recognized, and waved.
I didn’t like the curious face she made back at me, but whatever, she still waved in return. I looked back at Zac as he got to my side, grabbed my hand, and led me out to the floor as—like it had been freaking planned—a country song came over the speakers.
Zac grinned as he reached for my free hand once we were on the edge of the dance floor and set it on his shoulder. “Still remember how to two-step?”
A blurry memory of him teaching Boogie—and me—how to dance a lifetime ago filled my head and made me smile. “Shit.”
He beamed down at me, his hands warm and mine probably even hotter, as he led me straight into it, moving around the floor, spinning me around from time to time, and thankfully not stepping on my toes a single time. “Kiddo, you’re better at this than I am,” he called out loudly, his pink mouth wide with laughter.
“I’m better at a lot of things than you are,” I joked. “You’re rusty.”
“Rusty?” he had the nerve to ask. “I’ve been doin’ this since you were in diapers, Peewee.”
“Eh.”
I wasn’t sure if he specifically pulled me in or if it just kind of happened as we moved, but we were right up in there together, our thighs constantly brushing together. Zac twirled me around right at the end a few times, and he made a face to warn me as he dipped me back right at the end, with a laugh that had me choking one out too as blood rushed into my nose.
When another country song started right after that, he spun me around the floor some more, putting it all into it like I’d offended him or something during the first song.
If he’d expected me to trip over my own feet or step on his toes… he would have been in for a real surprise.
I knew he was impressed when his gaze caught mine, forehead furrowing as he asked in a voice that I barely just caught, “Who you been dancin’ with like this?”
I caught a glimpse of my sister’s face as he spun me around, and I waited until we were facing each other again—well, I was facing his chest more than his face until I lifted my head—and answered back loud enough for him to hopefully hear, “People.”
I’d spent a Saturday a month going to country clubs with one of my old coworkers. My ex used to hate me going, but since he didn’t like to dance, I didn’t listen to him. My favorite partners had always been the older men whose wives were so busy dancing with other people that they were pawning their husbands off on strangers. Those men knew how to dance.
Just like Zac did.
Fluid and almost sinuous, a lifetime athlete who knew every movement of his body. Strong and secure.
I wondered for a second how many partners he’d had that he’d gotten so good at it with.
Whatever.
Apparently, my answer hadn’t been enough for him because the second we were facing each other again, he ducked his head to speak into my ear, his breath a tickle along the sensitive skin there, “What people?”
My mouth was inches from his chest. I could smell the sweet, clean scent of his cologne. “People at the club, buster. Good teachers, huh?”
His breath was still in my ear. “What club?”