17. Dove #2
I barely heard her snarky comment because I was too busy looking at my reflection.
There was nothing drastic about it, like she’d promised, but everything she’d done seemed to make all of me…
more. My hair cascaded past my shoulders in soft, smooth waves, and my eyes were lined with kohl and smoked out just enough to give them a hint of sexy, making the blue of my eyes look damn near electric.
My lashes looked miles long, curled up and coated in the blackest mascara I’m sure Reverie could find. And my lips…
Wow. Were my lips really that full?
I turned to her in awe. She shrugged.
“Just enhancing what you already have, babe.”
Then she turned and marched out of the bathroom, calling, “Now it’s time to pull it all together!”
I cast myself one last look in the mirror before following her, a little nervous at just what she had in mind.
The bar was hazy when I walked in, smoke swirling and dancing in the lights across the large wooden dance floor. The place wasn’t completely packed yet, but it was getting there.
I tugged at my top self-consciously, eyes scanning the room for a familiar face.
Excited chatter came from behind me, and I took a few more steps in, letting the new arrivals skirt past me.
A part of me wanted to turn tail and run, texting Reverie to swing back around to pick me up because I changed my mind.
I couldn’t do this. This wasn’t me.
Was I really about to seduce my stepbrother?
Lord, I needed a drink.
I weaved in and out of the crowd on the edge of the dance floor as I aimed for the bar along the opposite wall, thankful Reverie hadn’t tried to talk me into something as outrageous as heels. I felt far more myself in boots, the nicer ones I saved for special occasions, not my work pair.
I chuckled to myself as I imaged what Reverie’s face would have looked like if I’d even suggested wearing those.
When I saddled up to the bar, the bartender was busy on the other side, so I patiently—anxiously—waited for him to see me. I needed some liquid courage, damn it.
“Come here often?” a dark, silky voice purred in my ear.
I tensed, a shiver trailing down my spine like playful fingers, and I nearly gasped from the sensation that settled low in my belly.
When I turned, Josh stood behind me. My heart leapt at how delicious he looked in the dim light, the strobe briefly outlining his broad frame.
As he settled beside me, resting his elbows on the bar, my eyes darted down to where he’d rolled his sleeves up to expose his strong, tan forearms. I followed a defined, raised vein until it disappeared into the fabric of his shirt, and I nearly licked my lips, remembering the gloss just in time.
He said something, but it was lost in the music and the haze of arousal I was in just from him standing next to me.
“What?” I asked, pitching my voice louder to be heard over the music.
He leaned in, and that familiar masculine, alpine scent of his had my mouth watering, eyes itching to roll back at how seductive it smelled.
“I said,” his voice dropped low, smooth like honey right in my ear, “you decided to come out after all.” He looked around. “Is Rev here, too?”
My hair swished around my shoulders as I shook my head. His eyes dropped to it, then descended lower, taking in my attire. Or lack thereof.
I fought the urge to cover myself.
Damn you, Reverie.
“You look nice,” Josh complimented mildly, but there was a tight edge to it, as if he was biting back what he really wanted to say. Like maybe he liked what he saw but didn’t approve .
I could practically hear Reverie cheering in my mind.
“Thank you.”
It was a nice outfit; it just wasn’t something I was comfortable in.
The shorts, although high-waisted, rode up in the back, rhinestones on the pockets glinting in the light at the curve of my ass.
The halter top that draped at my breasts and exposed my cleavage was so far out of my comfort zone I’d laughed when Reverie held the scrap of it up, thinking she was joking.
I’d never worn something so revealing before, comfortable in simple T-shirts and shorts that covered me up well.
I’d always been curvier and heavier than my peers.
Taller, too. Busty since middle school, I’d experienced envy for the tinier waists and smaller, perkier boobs all the girls in the locker room seemed to have.
It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my body, but I’d seen the types of clothes they all wore and knew they wouldn’t look the same on me, so I never even tried.
Over time I became content with what I normally wore, and that was all that mattered.
But seeing myself in the reflection of Josh’s hungry eyes had me rethinking it all. Maybe I could pull off wearing this type of stuff.
Another point to Reverie.
“Sorry.” The bartender rushed up to us breaking our spell. “What can I get you two?”
The bar slid cool along the skin of my belly as I turned to lean against it, facing the harried man.
“Can I buy you a shot?” Josh asked. His arm brushed mine and my stomach swooped.
“It’s your birthday.”
“But I missed yours,” he countered, regret deep in his voice, and a silence settled over us that stretched the length of those three years he was gone.
He’d missed more than just birthdays.
The bartender cleared his throat impatiently. “If y’all aren’t ready, I can come back…”
“Yes,” I breathed in permission, looking at Josh. “But I get the next round.”
“Deal.”
Josh rattled off an order of strong shots, and drinks. Lager for him and a local hard cider for me.
We stayed quiet as we waited. The music thundered from the speakers so loud it vibrated in my chest, but not loud enough to distract from what grew in our silence, making my skin tingle and my pulse quicken.
It was a niggling awareness of his proximity, of his large stature beside me, even if all he was doing was just standing there.
His gaze roamed curiously across my flesh, near tangible as it darted greedily over the slivers illuminated by the flickering lights, igniting a trail of fire as my skin burned in its wake.
When the man returned with our drinks, I exhaled shakily, relieved that Josh’s intense stare was finally broken, his attention shifting elsewhere. I suddenly understood what it must feel like to be a butterfly pinned to a board—beautiful, but utterly unaware of its fate.
Josh laid some bills on the counter, waving away the change before sliding a full shot my way. I picked it up carefully, not wanting to spill a drop. I’d need every bit of it.
The clink of our glass rims together was lost to the music, but the drawl of his deep voice wasn’t.
“Happy twenty-first, Dove,” he said, even though I was closer to twenty-two now.
“Happy twenty?—”
“Don’t you dare,” he growled, his eyebrows drawing together sternly. He nodded to the glass in my hand. “Take your shot.”
I ignored his order. Exaggerating a pout, I felt brave enough to flirt just a little bit even without the encouragement of alcohol.
Reverie would be so proud.
Holding the shot glass loosely in my grasp, I made no move to drink it as I watched him shudder through the burn of alcohol and lick the remnants off his bottom lip.
I wanted to be the one licking the taste away.
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of your age,” I paused before adding coyly, “old man.”
“Old man?” He scowled. “Take that, then I’ll show you how much of an old man I am.
We both knew he wasn’t much older than me, but I couldn’t help but enjoy the playful banter—and the gruff order, laced with just the right amount of innuendo. I tossed back the shot, letting the burn as it slid down mask the full-body tremor he’d triggered in me.
Easier to blame it on the alcohol.
He grabbed my hand the moment the bottom of my shot glass hit the bar.
“Our drinks,” I protested as he pulled me away to the dance floor, which was full but not crowded enough to feel claustrophobic.
“ Leave them .”
My hand was engulfed in his larger one, his palm hot against mine as he tugged me along.
We ended up in the middle of the floor as the song bled into a familiar guitar riff, an upbeat country song, which was always a favorite around these parts. The people surrounding us hollered in excitement, singletons forming loose lines while couples swung each other around as the song crooned on.
I tried to slip my hand from Josh’s, uncertainty making me hesitant, but he just held on tighter, bringing me in closer to his body as he started to sway.
At first it was just a simple series of steps, a pattern I was familiar with from years of practice at local shindigs and parties.
Everyone knew how to line dance around these parts.
It was practically a requirement for a town as rural as this one.
You couldn’t escape going to a barbecue or pig roast without someone cranking up the music loud enough to have the whole party moving.
I’d never danced this close with anyone.
Never let myself. Because I’d always known exactly who I wanted to dance with—and while dancing might seem harmless, I didn’t trust myself to be that close to him.
Not when I knew it would mean more to me than it would for him.
So, if I couldn’t dance with Josh, I was better off dancing alone.
Which meant this moment was like a dream come true and my heart floated, light and untethered, as my feet followed his, each step a quiet echo of his own. We weren’t doing anything fancy, but I was having fun, content to let him lead.
Until his hand slid up my back to raise my arm—twirling me around and around—the dance floor becoming a blur of dancing bodies and flashing lights.
“Josh!” I yelped, coming to an abrupt stop as he spun around me in a flurry of impressive footwork.