5. Jake #3
The moment we step onto the hardwood, our energy changes.
I slide my right hand onto the small of her back, and she goes rigid.
She’s tall, but without the assist from her fancy shoes, and standing up close, she barely reaches my chin.
Whatever scent she’s wearing, something that smells like the forest after a clean rain, cuts through the bar’s smell of stale beer. Perhaps I’m simply tuned into her.
“Just follow my lead,” I murmur, leaning down so she can hear me over the fiddle. “Don’t think about the steps. Just watch my chest.”
“Easy for you to say,” she mutters, her left hand resting tentatively on my shoulder. I can feel her body vibrating with nerves, so I squeeze a little tighter.
“I’ve got you.”
I don’t give her time to overthink things, jumping right into the first step and guiding her along with the beat.
At first, she’s a little stiff, fighting against my pull, her sneakers catching slightly on the worn wood.
But I’ve been doing this for a while, and I’ve won over many a woman by spinning them around this very dance floor.
I put a little weight into my hand at her back, guiding her through the quick, double-step pattern, steering us around a pair of older regulars.
Campbell’s eyes widen as we whirl around them, like a kid taking their first ride at Disneyland.
Within a minute, something shifts. Campbell relaxes.
She catches the beat, her feet finding the cadence, and when I guide her into a smooth, easy spin under my arm, she executes it perfectly, coming back to my chest with a breathless, genuine laugh that reminds me of that damn dancing movie my mom’s obsessed with, the one with Patrick Swayze and some actress named Jennifer Gray.
Campbell’s eyes meet mine, bright and wide with a mixture of shock and exhilaration.
“Oh. Okay. I see you, McKinney,” she says.
“Told you,” I say, a genuine smile breaking across my face.
I can’t remember the last time I smiled like this.
It feels good. She feels good. This feels good.
She matches my stride like we’ve been doing this for years, and for a few fleeting seconds, the stress of the season fades into the background.
It’s just the music, the hardwood, and her.
The fast-paced fiddle track notes swell and finally fade out, the crowd offering a smattering of applause. Campbell takes a step back, her chest heaving a bit.
“I clearly need to up my cardio,” she laughs out, her hand flattening on her chest.
She smooths down the front of her hoodie while her eyes continue to dance. “You proved your point. You can dance. Now, about that interview?—”
Before she can finish, the jukebox drops into a slow, dreamy song. The opening chords of a steel guitar fill the room, and the fast-stepping couples suddenly step in closer to one another.
Campbell freezes, realizing the shift in atmosphere. She looks at me, her professional guard instantly trying to re-erect itself. “We should go back to the booth.”
I don’t let go of her hand, though. Instead, I pull her back in, closing the distance between us until the heat radiating from her front matches mine.
“Let’s talk out here, over a slow one,” I offer.
“Jake,” she whispers, her eyes darting around the room, looking for an escape, but her fingers are still wrapped around mine. “We had a deal. One dance.”
“We had a deal for the interview,” I correct softly, sliding my hand back to her waist, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her sweatshirt. “This one is just for me.”
She swallows hard, her gaze locking onto my lips for a fraction of a second before lifting to my eyes.
She’s fighting it. I can see her hesitation, the awareness of how risky this is for both of us.
But she doesn’t pull away. Slowly, she steps closer, letting the side of her face rest against my shoulder as we sway to the seductive, dragging beat.
I tighten my grip around her, burying my face slightly in the crown of her hair, ignoring the dull ache in my shoulder.
Right now, the only thing that matters is the feel of a beautiful woman in my arms. My heart hasn’t raced like this since my first kiss.
Fuck, it may have not beat this hard for another person ever.
There’s something fleeting about this moment, too.
I realize that. And for once in my life, I’m going to hang on to it for as long as I can.
We move in silence until the final notes of the song fade into the ambient noise of the bar.
When we finally break apart, the space between us feels cold.
Campbell clears her throat, pulling her hoodie tight around herself again, though her eyes are dark with an emotion I think she’s trying like hell to hide.
She enjoyed that. I see it in the pink on her cheeks, and the bead of sweat on the nape of her neck.
“One interview,” she says, her voice steadying as she reclaims her ground. “Just you and your dad. We see how that goes, and we take it from there.”
I hold her gaze for a few quiet seconds. I knew the deal. Hell, I’m the one who offered it. I look down at her, a slow, quiet smirk playing on my lips as I slip my hands into my pockets.
“One interview,” I agree. “We’ll see how it goes.”