Chapter 30
I can’t believe she’s in one piece after so much time with Dad. Not red-eyed or shaky. In fact, she’s smiling brightly. I always knew June was special, but I think I underestimated her.
Fuck, I think my crush on her has just grown. A lot.
Doesn’t help that she’s in that tight sweater dress and knee boots. It’s not revealing at all, but it shows off her shape, and I can’t help but think about her naked. Of course, I was doing that before I picked her up, but now it’s much worse. The dress is a beige that could be mistaken for nude, so my mind keeps making her naked in my head. The boots? I want to see her in just the boots and nothing else.
The problem is, she hates me. I owe her money. And cannot think of a way to seduce her yet. Spending time with her enemy’s family is not the aphrodisiac I need it to be. Maybe we can get a drink after all of this and see where the night takes us.
Dad stands, and she follows suit. He cocks his head, then smiles. “Time for the dance.”
“The dance?” she asks.
“The dance?” I ask flatly, trying not to whine.
He chuckles. “Yes, Anderson. The dance.” Then he walks past us to find Mom.
“What dance?” June asks.
“It’s a family tradition on my mom’s side of the family. When they get together, there’s dancing. It’s just a thing they do, sort of a way to break the ice for the new people and reconnect with everyone.” I shrug. “We can try to skip it, but they will hunt us down.”
“Well, if it’ll make a good impression on them, I’m game. I enjoy dancing.”
“Oh. That’s great.” I put my arm out for her. “Shall we?”
She smiles and takes my arm. “Lead the way.”
When I was a boy, I had fantasized about having a girl with me for the family dance. After I met June, that fantasy was always her. Seeing her laugh and twirl and have fun with my mom’s side of the family. They are much more easy-going than Dad’s side. Still as proper as ever, but if someone spills their wine, it’s more likely to earn a happy laugh than a scolding.
Taking June to the small ballroom, I eat up the look on her face. She lets out a nervous laugh. “Oh my god, you two were not exaggerating.”
“No, we were not. This ballroom is smaller than the one at my parents’ home in Brookline, but it suits our purposes.” The ballroom is large enough for everyone to be on the dance floor at the same time, and with dark wood floors and ivory walls, it gives the impression of a dance studio more than a ballroom. Wide windows show off the city and a small band plays jazz standards in the corner.
“This is so much fancier than I’d expected, Anderson.”
“Be glad we’re not at their Brookline house. You’d have to wear a gown.”
She laughs, and I take her in my arms. It startles her, but she presses herself to me in a stance, before we begin a turn around the dance floor. As we dance, it is so hard to remember the real reason she’s here. That it’s not for me. It’s for the money. Any other person, I would want to keep things transactional between us. That’s easier—less messy. No attachments is a simpler way of life. But if I’m honest with myself, I hate it. Simpler, yes, but meaningless. I want her here for me. It would be so easy to let myself get swept up in this farce—I want it to be real. I want all of this to mean something.
Funny how a family tradition I hated now gives me the chance to have June in my arms. Even if it’s only for the money, at least I finally get to have her here like this. I get to hold her and imagine what it would be like if she were here because she wanted to be.
It’s the fantasy I had as a boy, but it’s tainted by our agreement. She’d never be here of her own accord. She hates me. I’ve given her no reason not to. But maybe if she has an enjoyable time, then she won’t want to run away after all of this is over. If I can make this fun for her, then she might want to stay. Or maybe I’m just telling myself what I want to believe.
A slow version of, “There will never be another you,” plays, and I worry she’ll want to sit it out. But instead, she loops her arms around my neck, so I press against her low back, and we sway. This feels so right. I never want it to end.
June murmurs, “Been a long time since I slow-danced. Sorry if I step on your feet.”
I laugh and she smiles up at me, and my breath catches in my throat as she presses her head to my shoulder. This is everything I have ever wanted. “You’re doing just fine, June.”
“Thanks. This is nice, Anderson. Your family is a little?—”
“Intense?” I offer to mitigate her word choice.
She giggles. “I was going to say passionate, but yes, intense works, too. Explains a lot about you.”
“How so?”
“Well, forgive the phrasing, but you’re like a dog with a bone when it comes to going after what you want.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“It’s nice.”
I gulp. “It is?”
“Since you stopped being an asshole, yeah.”
I snort a laugh.
“This is not news to you.”
She smiles again. “The point is, you come from passionate people, and that’s a good thing. It means that I know what you want. I don’t have to guess with you, and that’s a nice change.”
Part of me hopes she can tell what I want, but the other part of me worries she’ll think it’s absurd. Must change the topic. “Other men leave you guessing?”
“Oh, definitely. They’re all cowards. They don’t tell you a thing upfront, like every interaction with them is a merger, and they’re trying to get the best deal they can. It’s exhausting.”
Better to ask than to guess wrong. “So, what is it you think I want?”
She chuckles and whispers, “The account.”
In that last three minutes, I’d completely forgotten about the account. She was the only thing on my mind. It was a nice three minutes.
“Right. The account.” I twirl her, then bring her close. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves, right?”
She smiles and comes close again. “Right.”
I don’t blame her for keeping her eyes on the prize. In her case, it’s a literal prize. But her words bruise me. I didn’t want to be brought back to reality. Not here. Not now. Maybe part of me wished she was in the fantasy with me, wishing this was real for her own reasons. Guess it doesn’t matter. I know what’s on her mind.
The money. Not that I can blame her for that.
“Autumn Leaves” comes on, another slow version. “I’ve always loved this song.”
She looks up at me. “Really?”
“I’m a sucker for a melancholic love song.”
“You?”
“And what did you imagine I liked?”
She gives a little shrug with a smirk. “Out of this kind of music? Mack the Knife.”
I laugh hard. Can’t help it. “A song about a killer for hire? I’m flattered.”
She beams up at me. “Or maybe Hard-Hearted Hannah.”
“Another murderer?” I spin her and hold her tight and still, staring into her eyes. Her cheeks flush and her eyes fall to my lips. I murmur, “What must you think of me?” Then, I start us up again. Slower this time.
“I was thinking you’d like songs about people who know what they want and go for it.”
“Hmm.” I wonder if that’s the real reason. “Suppose that’s not so bad, then.” Feeling her soft body against mine, a rush of heat shoots low. I’d been holding it back this whole time, but it’s becoming impossible. Knowing what she thinks of me—and that it’s not all bad—appears to be an aphrodisiac, and I struggle to keep things PG around my family for the moment.
“Never knew you were a secret romantic, Anderson.” The way she says my name is too much. Like she’s savoring every syllable.
“The Nearness of You,” begins, and I’m sunk. Why is the band playing so many slow songs in a row? Doesn’t matter. I’m struggling not to fall into the music. If I do, things between me and June are going to be much more complicated.
I swallow, trying to ignore the way my heart warms when she stays so close to me. Feels like I’m on a knife’s edge, and I’m about to get cut. “We all have our secrets, don’t we, June?”
“I guess we do.”
As the band plays on, I hardly hear the music. Only the steady drumming in my chest. She and I fall silent, swaying to the rhythm. I don’t know when the song ended or if anyone else is in the room. All I see is June. The way her lips call to me. The unsure look in her eyes as they keep glancing at my mouth. I am drawn to her—I don’t care if this is real or not. The desire is plain on her perfect face. Just as I tip my head down for a kiss, the room breaks out into applause.
Apparently, the band is taking a break, and so are we.
She blinks and smiles around the room, but when she looks up at me again, there’s that desire again. I don’t know if it’s real or if she’s the world’s best actress. Only one way to find out.