On the Slopes of Tahoe (Love Along the Way #2)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Rory

J amie dragged us down the street to another bar where he said the dancing would be better. Fine by me. I caught Breck with his eyes on the sky, taking in the bright lights of the town all decked out for the new year. It’s chaotic and crammed with people right now, but it’s mine, and I love it.

I’m standing at the bar between Breck and Jamie. Their protective stances keep me from getting shuffled around by the crowd. The bass reverberates down to my very bones, perfect for a night where all I want is to let loose. With each drink I forget a little more about my job, my parents, the hurt I was harboring over Breck’s words. I want to start the new year not worrying about anything but me for a change.

Breck turns from the bar with a margarita for me and a beer for himself at the same time Jamie turns with his scotch. There’s something relaxed in Breck’s demeanor now. Maybe he’s got ideas for starting the new year fresh too. He hands me the glass, fingers sliding over mine. I blush under his watchful gaze and ignore the flip in my stomach.

Jamie breaks the spell between us. “Dancing?”

I turn to beam at my best friend, grabbing his free hand with my own. “You get the first dance, Jameson.”

His exaggerated eye roll makes me laugh out loud. He hates when I use his full first name, but I love it. Just like I love calling my brother Wessy . There’s some savage pleasure in needling the people you love a little bit.

We wander through the crowd toward the mass of moving bodies. They’re playing “Sweet Child of Mine” and I spin on the spot before stopping to jump a little as I sing along. Dancing has a way of making me feel carefree, like the weight I seem to always be carrying is lifted for just a little while.

I gulp down my drink in an effort to not spill it, and the burn of the tequila mixed with the chill of the ice makes me shiver. Breck leans against the bar top watching us—watching me—his dimpled smile disappearing behind his frothy glass.

Another song later and Jamie excuses himself to the bar. He was making eyes with a girl at the other end and I’m not going to hold him back from enjoying his evening. One of us should have someone to kiss at midnight.

I continue to sway despite the heat pressing in from the crowd around me. I’ll be glad later for the heavy tights I have on under my black flippy skirt and my heavy sweater when I have to walk home, but damn, it’s hot in here. I pull my hair up with my hands, letting the slightly cooler air caress the back of my neck.

With the alcohol running through my veins, I lean into the freedom I feel on the dance floor, smiling. I feel loose and uninhibited. That is until I slip on someone’s spilled drink and lose my balance.

A pair of strong hands grip my waist from behind. I’m instantly taken aback by the possessiveness of the gesture, but my brain quickly catches up and I’m grateful not to be sprawled on the dirty floor right now. Spinning, I come face-to-face with Breck, my arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. His eyes are wide and there’s a glint of something there, like he might be pleased at this turn of events.

The heat of his hands at my waist intensifies. My sweater rode up when I flung my arms around him, so his hands are grazing bare skin. His gaze roams my face, landing on my mouth, and I feel a pull low in my belly. His stare burns into me and I lick my lips. He lets out a wicked chuckle, shaking his head and breaking himself out of a trance. Same here, buddy.

“Thanks.” I tell myself the breathy quality to my voice is from the exertion of dancing, but it’s a lie. I’m flustered by his proximity. “For not letting me fall.”

“You’re welcome,” he husks in a low voice. It’s growly, a little undone, and I like it.

I begin to move my hips in time with the music. Hips that Breck’s strong hands are splayed over.

His eyes widen a little more, as if surprised I’d choose to dance with him after my outburst earlier. That’s the last thing on my mind right now, and it’s my turn to flick my eyes to his mouth. The buzz around my brain wonders how his lips would feel on my skin. The top one is the perfect bow shape and the bottom is slightly fuller than the top, perfect for…

I snap my eyes back to his, finding them smoldering in the low light. He moves closer, pulling our bodies flush, and heat rushes through me. He’s warm, and the muscles of his torso press into mine as we move. I have no idea what I’m doing, what I’m thinking, but this feels good. It doesn’t feel lonely, and it doesn’t feel like I’m doing it for anyone but me.

I haven’t done anything in a long while that was for me and me alone. I don’t care that he’s Wes’s best friend. I don’t even care that he’s a dad or that he’s from Australia or that he’s leaving soon. I just don’t care, and it feels damn good.

His hands tighten on my waist, thumbs firmly gripping me under my sweater, and I feel that touch like a brand. With my arms around his neck this way, I could have my fingers tangled in his hair with only the slightest movement. It’s not the first time I’ve had that crush-fueled fantasy. I spent years as a teenager wondering what his hair would feel like.

The music changes, giving us an ideal opportunity to separate, get some space. For me to stop fantasizing about running my fingers through his silky strands. I glance to the bar and see Jamie happily ensconced with a blonde, head dipped toward her ear. He catches my eye over her shoulder and winks. I likely won’t be seeing much of him for the rest of the night.

Every time my eyes meet Breck’s, I wish I could read his mind. I can’t reconcile the Breck of the last few weeks with this man who’s warm and inviting and wearing a smile that is one hundred percent in the “panty dropper” category. I wonder if this is the Breck that Wes knows, the one who was fun-loving and full of life. The one Talia broke.

Was he this way with her?

Why do I care?

It’s an excellent question, because I shouldn’t. I like this carefree version of him and want to let myself believe it’s a version that’s just for me. Tonight, I don’t want to be Wes’s little sister. Or Jamie’s best friend or my parents’ biggest disappointment. I want to be a woman with a man looking at her like he doesn’t want to look anywhere else.

And Breck doesn’t. His eyes never waver. They’re just for me. I don’t know how long we dance like that, smiling, laughing, touching, watching, but we’ve slowly migrated to the far end of the bar. Without the crush of people, I can hear my breathing, fast and labored from the exertion.

I press onto my tip toes and it drags my body along his. “Another drink?” I ask against the shell of his ear, and I swear he leans in, like he wants me that close… closer. I slide away and his hands slip from under my sweater, making me miss the roughness of his palms. I grab his hand, pulling him up beside me at the bar, and order two tequila shots. Looking up from under my lashes, I take my bottom lip between my teeth and his grip on my hand tightens.

I’m going all in tonight. I can’t remember the last time I took a shot. College?

The smirk on Breck’s face says he’s onto my game, or at least that he’s willing to play. The bartender sets down my order, and I slip him some cash before he walks away. Before I lose my nerve, I grab a glass, lick my hand and salt it, and lift it in a salute toward Breck, expecting him to do the same.

He moves his hand, but not to grab the second shot. Instead, he takes my hand and brings his mouth down to lick the salt from it before his lips find the shot glass and he shoots it back.

I’m sure the look on my face is priceless, my mouth gaping open. My brain attempts to turn itself back on after being thoroughly short-circuited, but to no avail. Especially when he reaches for the lime wedge and pops it between his lips to suck the juice through his teeth. The visual pulls at something deep inside me and a shiver rolls down my spine. He hasn’t broken eye contact since he first touched my hand and is staring at me now with a look of triumph… and heat.

Oh. My. Lord .

Breck’s lips tick up on one side and just the one dimple appears. “Your turn.” His low voice caresses my skin even from a foot away.

This night has veered off in a completely different direction than I anticipated. Breck reaches for the other shot while my mind whirs out of control. His tongue darts out to wet his hand before he salts it, and I nearly expire on the spot. Damn, that was hot.

Am I doing this?

I’m so doing this.

I set my shoulders, smirk at his handsome face, and opt for reckless bravery. Sliding my hand up his wrist, I feel every inch of the sinewy muscle of his forearm where his shirtsleeve is pushed up to his elbow. When I lower my head, I don’t just lick the salt. I suck at his skin, eliciting a groan from deep in his throat. I smile and release him, having gotten exactly the reaction I was hoping for, and lift the shot to my lips.

I don’t even taste it, too focused on his eyes, which are like molten lava. I bite down on the lime he holds up between us, the tartness dancing across my tongue. A drop of the juice slips from between my lips and Breck catches it with the knuckle of his forefinger. The touch makes me lose my mind entirely as I close my lips over it, sucking the last of the juice off.

“Bloody hell.”