Chapter 30 #2
“In some of the earlier emails, before he resorted to stalking, he mentioned my brother wouldn’t talk to him from prison. I think he just sees me as the only available link. Though if he threw some money or a love letter at my mom, she’d probably tell him everything he wants to know.”
“Have you spoken to your brother about this?”
I lean on my elbows on the table, resting my chin on the backs of my clasped hands.
“The last time I talked to my brother was before he was arrested. When I heard that he and my mom were trying to lure Whitney back to Arizona so they could coerce her into giving him the life insurance money, I washed my hands of the whole family. I told the police there everything I knew.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was awful, but I don’t regret it. I’d do anything to keep my best friend and my niece and nephew safe.” I take a drink of my crisp Diet Coke. “The last time I saw my brother, I was on the witness stand. There’s no reason to talk to him about this.”
Sutton relaxes in his chair, resting his arm across the table where he runs his finger along my forearm. “Maybe not. But if it’s possible for him to forgive you, he might not like the idea of someone poking around your business.”
“Not much he can do from a prison cell.”
Sutton flags down a passing server and closes out the tab. I don’t even bother going for my wallet. He made it clear he’s taking me out tonight, and I’m not in the mood to start an argument. If this isn’t a date—and I’m still not convinced it is—he should work on sending the right signals.
Sutton drinks the last of his beer and rises to his feet, extending his hand. “Come with me.”
My fingers slip into his warm grasp, and I let him lead me back inside.
The dance floor is even more packed than the last time, filled to the edges with cowboy hats and boots stomping to a country song. Sutton finds us an open patch of wood near the rustic rail and stops suddenly. He steps behind me and drops his wide, heavy palms on my hips.
“What are we doing here?” I turn my chin over my shoulder and shout above the music.
“I want you to teach me.”
I pivot in his hold, meeting his intense, serious gaze. “You want me to teach you?”
He leans down so his mouth is close to my ear, his hand sliding into mine and curling my fingers around his thumb in my palm.
“You love this. I watched you do it once, and I was mesmerized by how damn good you are. I want to learn.” The stubble along his jaw scrapes gently against my temple. “I want you to teach me how.”
His request renders me speechless.
Sutton is stony and confident and strong. He’s always struck me as the kind of man who doesn’t ask anyone for anything. He’s more of a figure it out myself kind of guy, yet here he is asking me to teach him simple dance moves.
Not because he’s curious.
Because he wants to learn.
Because he knows it’s something I like to do.
No one has ever done this for me. Not an ex, hell, not even my friends. I always had to meet new people at The Saloon with Archie because I could never convince my own friends to join me.
I lick my lips. “I feel like there’s an ulterior motive here.”
Sutton straightens, giving me a panty-melting smirk. “Besides the fact I get to touch you and claim you in a room full of people? Nah, no motive. Except that I won’t be forced to watch you dance with another man, because I’ll be the one right beside you.”
The flutters in my stomach intensify, and I melt against the solid wall of his chest. My fingertips tap out a nervous rhythm.
“Stop making me feel things for you,” I murmur.
He tips my chin with his free hand. “You feel things for me?”
I shake my head, denying the obvious truth.
Sutton brushes a loose curl behind my ear. “I like you, Alice. Like you a lot. I want to see where this goes if you’re up for it.”
“I thought I drove you insane.”
“You unravel me,” he practically growls with his whole chest. “And for some reason I don’t understand, I like it.”
God, I like it too. I search his smoky-blue eyes, not knowing if I can trust it.
I force away the thoughts. “Okay, Sunny, let’s see what you’re capable of.”
The next song is “Flex.” I think it's perfect for him to get started on. The lyrics will guide him on exactly what to do.
I position myself at his side and feel dwarfed by him, the nearly foot height difference making itself known. I point down at my new cowboy boots. “Watch my feet.”
Sutton nods, his intense focus on the floor. He gets the first steps easily enough, but when it comes time to turn, he moves in the wrong direction and slams into me. His arms wrap securely around my torso, keeping me from crashing to the floor.
“Sorry,” he grunts, brows knitted together.
“It’s okay. Try again like this.” I demonstrate the move slowly. “You have to hop with it and then keep your heel planted and turn.”
Sutton keeps the beat by bobbing his head and gives it another go. We don’t smash into each other, but he stumbles over his own boots. His bashful grin nearly melts my heart. And then he bursts into laughter.
I swear the music stops as his deep, masculine laugh wraps around me like a warm blanket beside a bonfire. The rich sound settles somewhere deep inside. I stare at him, wondering exactly how I can get him to do it again.
“Am I disappointing you?” He stops and tucks my messy hair behind my ear.
“That’s the first time I heard you laugh.”
His nostrils flare.
“I’m anything but disappointed, Sutton.”
He picks up one hand and guides me into an intimate circle as we sway together.
With a playful smile, he twirls me away from him before expertly catching me and dipping me low.
My leg rises instinctively, and he skates his warm palm up my thigh, the other around my back, holding me steady.
He kisses me softly before returning us vertical.
“I thought you couldn’t dance,” I tease.
“I never said I couldn’t dance. It’s the organized group variety I’m unfamiliar with.”
Just then, the song switches to “Footloose,” and it’s my turn to laugh.
“What’s funny?”
“You’re not going to like this one.”
“Why not?”
“It isn’t exactly beginner-friendly. I have an idea.”
I position myself in front of him, pressing my back against the solid plane of his chest. Picking up his hands at his sides in each of mine, I bring them beside us as I start to move.
“Just follow my direction.”
I don’t bother showing him the specific steps, remembering how long it took me to get this one down.
Sutton follows my body's movements. We laugh loudly, stumbling over one another as I heel and toe kick us around our space on the dance floor for song after song. We dance until I forget that I’m supposed to teach him, and sweat sticks our clothes to our bodies, and we collapse into each other’s arms.