“I know,” she said. “Still…I just have this feeling about him.” She took a long drink.
“Yeah. Me, too,” he admitted.
The band started a new song, a cover of Patsy Cline’s “Crazy.”
Lily popped up and grabbed Ethan’s hand. “I love this song.” She tugged him a few steps away from the table, hooked her hands behind his neck, and started to move to the music.
He put his hands on her waist, when what he wanted to do was wrap his arms all the way around her and pull her right up close. He couldn’t do that, but she kept inching closer, and he wasn’t doing a very good job stopping her. She turned her face up to his, and her breath smelled like that beer, and her eyes sparkled.
His arms tightened around her waist all by themselves. A sigh escaped, or maybe he’d squeezed it from her. God, she was beautiful.
Oh, he was in so much trouble, here. The place was dim and smoky, the music was good and yearning, and she was warm and sexy in his arms.
He wanted to kiss her, and he thought she knew it. She pressed a little closer, and their hips moved together from side to side in time with the singer’s deep, dulcet heartache. Around them, a handful of couples hugged close, heads rested on shoulders and cheeks against cheeks. Somebody was smoking at the bar. Nobody cared. His arms closed around her a little more.
She took one of his hands in hers and put it right on her butt, and he squeezed without even meaning to. His hand just acted on its own. She laid her head on his chest. “This is nice.”
“What, uh—” His voice came out all raspy. He cleared his throat. “What happened to hands-off at work?”
“This look like work to you?” She didn’t lift her head as she spoke. “Try pretending there’s nothing else in the world right now except the two of us and that song. There’s only one more verse anyway.”
Ethan heard her and felt the suggestion straight to his bones, which surprised him because he was feeling so much else at the same time. Arousal, mainly, but with a healthy dose of fear and trepidation.
“It’s just a dance, Ethan,” she whispered.
He sighed, releasing all his resistance with his breath and deciding to take her suggestion. Pretend there was nothing else. Stop being afraid of this, just for one dance.
He wanted his fingers in her hair, so he moved his hand from her waist to the back of her head and threaded them there. Her hair’s herbal scent wafted up, and he closed his eyes and breathed her in.
“Nice, right?” she asked softly.
“Nice,” he said. “But we?—”
Her finger was across his lips faster than a quickdraw. So he shut up and relaxed into the dance. The song ended, and she smiled up into his eyes. “That was amazing.” Then she returned to her chair and drank deeply of her beer.
Ethan didn’t order a second beer. He got a sweet tea. He didn’t trust himself to drink around her even though he rarely got a buzz from beer.
He looked at his phone again. Watching for that text from Willow, telling him it was safe to head back to the cantina. Hell.
“I was probably out of line on the dance floor,” Lily said.
“You were wonderful on the dance floor.”
She lowered her chin. “If a guy acted like that…” She didn’t finish, just shook her head. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“The only discomfort you gave me was the kind a cold shower’ll fix,” he said.
Her cheeks got even redder. “I’m not usually so…I mean…”
“You were fine,” he said. “You are fine.”
A waitress came by to plunk two bowls on their table. One held pretzels, the other, Cajun mixed nuts. She leaned low to put the bowls down, as if her arms wouldn’t reach unless her chest was at Ethan’s eye level. She took her time about it, too, moving the bowls, turning them, as if their positioning had to be perfect before she straightened again. She had lovely round breasts, elevated by a red pushup bra, the lace edges of which were visible in the scooped neckline of her tight, tight blouse.
“You’re Ethan Brand, aren’t you?” she asked.
“That’s Fred Brand, Ethan’s brother,” Lily said. “A true fan would know the difference.”
“Oh.” She shrugged and walked away.
