Chapter 6 #2
And soon her shoulders are doing more than relaxing. She’s actually leaning into me a little, and a smile’s hovering on her lips.
“Enjoying yourself?” I lean closer.
“No,” she says, although she’s smiling when she says it.
“I think this is one of the worst experiences of my life. Worse than the time Annie attempted to take me ice-skating and I took out a family of skaters. Worse than the time Mrs. Hamburg’s rottweiler humped my leg so aggressively I had to sedate him.
Worse than when my luggage got searched at the airport and when they opened my bag half my underwear tumbled out everywhere. ”
I laugh. “You seem to have a habit of landing yourself in trouble.”
“You have no idea and if you let go, I’m guaranteed to end up on my ass.”
“I won’t let go,” I growl. “You’re safe with me.”
It’s hot in the bar, especially hot on the tightly packed dance floor, and soon there’s a fine sheen of sweat on her neck and shoulders.
My own shirt’s sticking to my back. It’s sending my imagination wild – giving me ideas about sliding my tongue up her neck, tasting that salty flavor that’s bound to be lingering there, getting a good lungful of her sweet honey scent.
She’s not wrong about having two left feet.
The girl’s getting most of the steps wrong, and the ones she does get right trail a second or two behind everyone else.
Not like the girls in the front row – the ones who come every Friday night in their skimpy jean shorts and even skimpier tops, hips swaying, butts jiggling, every step damn faultless.
They’re pretty tempting, and if I’m honest, I’ve been tempted with more than one or two of them.
However – I have to confess – the little Omega getting it all wrong beside me is a hell of a lot more tempting. A hell of a lot. And with my arm wrapped firmly around her waist, I have her moving in the right direction.
That is until we’re forced to turn to the right sharply. She should have two feet on the ground like everyone else, making this move easy. Unfortunately, she’s balancing on the toes of her left foot, and the sudden change in direction has her wobbling, toppling, and slipping from my grasp.
She shrieks, arms flapping frantically in the air like an out-of-control windmill. Everyone’s gaze snaps our way. Her eyes widen. She looks to me in desperation, and, as if in slow motion, I see her tumbling backwards to the floor.
I dive forward, skidding onto my knees, and catch that girl like she’s a football and I’m intercepting a pass. She lands with an oomph in my arms and stares up at me in disbelief as everyone around us breaks into applause.
“Got you,” I say with a big grin.
“Got me?!” she squeals. “I nearly landed on my ass like I predicted!”
“You didn’t though, did you?” I say, looking down to where her ass is now resting in my lap.
“True,” she says, arms around my neck. “Thank you,”
I tip her back up onto her feet and scramble up myself. Everyone’s still looking at us, and I frown at them. Some of those front-row girls are giggling.
“Nothing to look at here, folks. Get back to dancing.”
I don’t need to say it twice – they’re all snapping back round.
“I don’t know what happened,” she says.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say, shaking my head. “Still having fun?”
She nods with a grin, and off she sets again, stomping her feet, clapping her hands, completely out of time with everyone else. I scurry back to her side, swearing I’ll take better care of her this time.
When the song ends, I’m a hell of a lot disappointed about it.
“Wanna stay for another?” I ask her.
“I’m exhausted,” she says.
I guess my face must show my disappointment.
“But that was fun. Actually fun,” she tells me.
“Actually fun as opposed to …”
“Mandatory fun.”
“Not familiar with that kind of fun.”
She makes a face. “Mandatory team-bonding or tedious family-gatherings.”
“So nothing pre-determined or obligatory?” She nods. “I’ve taken note.”
I reach for her hand and lead her off the dance floor, but we stand close by, watching the next dance.
“Oh,” she says, “the steps aren’t that different.”
“No,” I say. “Once you know the basics, you can pretty much do them all.”
She tips back her head and looks up at me. “You dance really well.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Not many men I’ve met are willing to dance, let alone are any good at it.”
“In a town like this,” I tell her, “if you wanted to get a girl, you had to learn to dance.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I find it hard to believe you needed to learn to dance to get a girl.”
“Oh yeah,” I say grinning, pretty pleased with that compliment.
“I mean,” she waves her hand in my direction, “you have the whole cowboy thing going on.”
“Every dude round here has the cowboy thing going on,” I admit. Although I don’t admit that me and my packmates do it best – I don’t want to come across as an arrogant asshole. Not when I like the girl. Not when the girl apparently has a problem with alphas.
“You’re from here then?” she asks me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Grew up in this town too. Me and Clay have been best friends since kindergarten.”
Her face softens, and I take it she thinks that’s sweet. I don’t mind. I’m happy to gain all the kudos points I can.
I’m about to do some more sweet talking, crack open the classics, when Annie comes pushing through the crowd. She grabs Hollie’s hand from mine.
“There you are!” she squeals. “Come on, Travis is making us cocktails!”
And then she’s pulling her away, and I wonder how soon it’ll be before I can get my hands on that little Omega again.