Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Oh fuck. “That came out really bad,” I stammer while racking my brain for some way to reclaim the easy, playful conversation we were having.
What kind of misogynistic asshole says something like that?
“I didn’t mean that you can’t be pretty, because you obviously are, or that you can’t be smart and pretty, like together, because you’re both, obviously.”
Oh my fucking god what is wrong with me? “Obviously, I’m an idiot. If you want to throw a drink in my face, I’ll buy it for you.”
After a moment that goes on way too long, she finally flashes me a cute little smirk. “Why would I waste a good drink like that?”
I huff out a shaky laugh. “Would it help if I bought two? One to enjoy and the other to put me in my place.”
She cocks her head. “Or we could just keep dancing?”
I offer her my hand. “I like that idea a lot.”
She accepts, stepping in to my hold again. The warmth from her touch coupled with gratitude that she’s not just pretty and smart but also forgiving makes me feel ten times lighter.
Since getting sober two years ago, I’ve had to navigate things like a night out with a totally different roadmap. I can no longer rely on alcohol to make me confident, or interesting, or less anxious, or a better dancer.
It’s just me as myself. That used to scare the fuck out of me. It still does sometimes, like right now when I’m trying—and failing—to not put my foot in it.
She gazes up at me. “What’s the new job?”
“It’s top secret.”
“Um, what?” A surprised laugh bubbles out of her.
“What’s your name?” Maybe if I keep her guessing, she won’t pick up on my total lack of chill.
She scrutinizes me for a long moment, rubbing her lips together. “Linnea. Most people call me Linn.”
“Nice to meet you, Linnea.” Fuck, even her name is pretty. “I’m CJ.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Is that short for something?”
“I’m afraid that’s top secret too.”
Her jaw drops open, which makes me laugh.
“What do I have to do to get the answers?” she asks, her nostrils flaring, but based on the playful gleam in her eyes, I think it’s all show.
The song’s final notes wind down. “We can keep dancing. If you’re lucky, I might let them slip.”
She laughs again, shaking her head.
“What? Too forward?” I give her an exaggerated cringe, biting my lip.
“I just…I’m not…” Her expression turns apprehensive.
“Here to get hassled?” Gently, I release her. As much as I’m loving this, I’m not the pushy type. “Totally understand.”
“You’re not hassling me,” she says in a rush, her soft blue eyes turning earnest. “Just…I need you to know that I’m not hookup material, okay?”
Kind of bold, but it’s refreshing. “And you think I am? I take offense to that.” I give her a playful wink.
The band kicks off a Dolly Parton cover, and the tension in Linnea’s expression softens. “Okay, CJ, let’s dance.”
Linnea grabs my hand and leads me closer to the front.
I like her slender hand in mine, and that she wants to keep dancing.
And yeah, I like the sight of her cute ass in those tight jeans and the exposed bit of skin at the curve of her waist. And the way her long hair sways between her shoulder blades, shining like spun honey beneath the lights.
The music’s louder up here, which means we won’t be able to talk, and it’s more crowded, but I don’t mind either of those things because Linnea steps in close and starts to move.
It's not a slow song, so I don’t have a reason to reach for her, but it still feels intimate.
Now I’m kicking myself for withholding my job as Idaho Fish and Wildlife’s newest conservation officer, but would she be so carefree with me right now if she knew we might have to work together someday?
That’s a giant presumptuous leap but it’s too late to take back.
I’ll just have to make tonight count by treating her right.
Drunk CJ would have failed miserably at such a plan. In fact, drunk CJ would have already moved on in search of someone a little less authentic. Someone who would appreciate the kind of casual fun I had down to a science.
I rub the spot at my hip pocket where my two-year sobriety coin is attached to my keychain. Grateful I get to be fully present for this instead.
I soak up Linnea’s smile and the way the light makes her crystalline blue eyes sparkle.
The crowd boxes us in, but Linnea doesn’t shy away.
When she spins and gives me a look over her shoulder, I put my hands on her hips, my thumbs and index fingers grazing the bare skin at her waist. A heavy, pleasant warmth sinks through me as we move together, our bodies not quite touching.
She’s close enough now that I get a hint of her scent.
It’s fresh like apples, maybe a little earthy.
I want to bury my nose in her honey-gold hair because if she smells this good after an hour of dancing in a crowded bar, then…
I shut down that line of thinking and refocus on the way her ass brushes my thighs, dangerously close to where my dick is taking notice. That’s another thing about sobriety. I’m completely in my own skin, feeling everything in real time.
I don’t miss being too drunk to screw, but being acutely aware of everything has taken some getting used to. Right now, it feels like being hit by a truck.
Dancing not too far away from us are Bear and Linnea’s friend, their attention completely locked on each other. I’ve lost track of Taylor and Kyle, but they’re likely back at the bar.
To keep my hands from wandering, I take Linnea’s hand and spin her around.
She laughs, and that light inside me starts to glow a little brighter.
She’s having fun dancing with me. We’re just two people enjoying the music and each other’s company, for however long it lasts.
It’s wild to experience so much joy from something so perfectly simple.
Another wave of gratitude peaks inside my chest.
When the band drops into a slow song, Linnea doesn’t even hesitate or look for someone else; she steps in close and wraps her arms around my neck.
To quiet the nerves fluttering up my chest, I cradle her waist, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin beneath my touch.
She gazes up at me with a look of calm curiosity.
Her lips are a glossy pink in the low light, and her pale cheeks are flushed.
To stave off the sudden urge to kiss her, I swivel her hips and reach for her hand, spinning her slowly.
When she returns, she’s laughing again, amplifying that pleasant tension thrumming beneath my skin.
This time, when I grasp her waist, she gets close enough that her breasts press into my chest. Can she feel how hard my heart is pounding?
Because she feels good this close to me. I get a dose of not just her strength, but her softness.
I pegged her as an athlete the second I laid eyes on her. It’s the way her thighs fill out her jeans and the taut muscles in her torso tensing beneath my touch, and the way she carries herself. But she’s also feminine in all the right ways too.
This girl just keeps getting more interesting.
The music picks up again and we dance and move, never getting too far apart from each other.
A Willie Nelson cover gets us both singing, then laughing.
Several songs later, Bear catches my eye and smirks, but I return my attention to Linnea and the way we’re swaying.
When the song ends, I lean closer to her ear.
“Looks like our friends have hit it off.”
An expression I can’t read flickers in her eyes. “And I haven’t even learned your secrets yet.”
“Good thing the night’s not over.” I spin her again, making her laugh.
“That sounds dangerously close to an invitation,” she says with a look of playful scrutiny that’s cute as fuck. Her nose wrinkles, and her lips twist.
I fake a casual shrug because that sounded an awful lot like she wanted an invitation. “We’ve got a couple of rooms at The Shore Lodge.”
Linnea leans back to size me up. “You’re too rugged to be rich.”
I grip her waist as I laugh. “I can’t be good looking and loaded?”
She tries to hold in her grin. “I didn’t say good looking. I said rugged.”
True, but I think it’s working for her. “Hate to break it to you but I’m not loaded.” If Bear’s mom didn’t have spare travel points to help offset the cost, we’d be bunking on the floor of his current house flip project.
“Money doesn’t mean shit to me.” As if to underline this, her tone has gone frosty.
“Tell me how you really feel?” Maybe we’re finally getting to this existential crisis.
She gives me an exaggerated wince that flashes her pretty, white teeth. “Sorry. Forget I said that.”
I will…for now.
The band breaks into another tune, so I lean in close. “Tell me what does matter to you.”
“Honesty,” she says, not missing a beat. “Your turn.”
I laugh to cover my panic. Not telling her about my job isn’t exactly lying, but damn it. Quit fucking this up. “Kindness.”
She smiles. “I like humble.”
I cock an eyebrow. “I like confidence.”
She spins around again to rub that sensational ass against me. “A guy who’s competent.”
Competent, huh? I can think of several ways to demonstrate just how competent I can be. I cradle her waist. “A girl who’s adventurous.”
Glancing at me over her shoulder with a sultry shine in her eyes, she says, “Good with his hands.”
Did someone just turn up the heat in here? I move in so my lips brush the back of her ear. “Good with her mouth.”
We’re not exactly dry humping but there is a lot of rubbing going on as we move.
“A good kisser.”
“A good cuddler.”
A surprise laugh bursts from her lips, and she folds forward a little, taking me with her. I’m not sure if it’s an accident or if I just can’t help myself, but my lips land on the exposed patch of skin behind her ear.
She sucks in a breath, and my world tilts on its axis.