Stone glanced at Jackson, sitting to his right. “And you?”
Jackson shook his head. “Nah, I live nearby. You all should come over sometime. I splurged on a pool table whenBite Megot renewed for two more seasons.”
“Glad to hear you’re not getting staked yet,” Stone joked. “Or taken out with a silver bullet.”
Jackson made a show of huffing in indignation. “For your information, it would take a silver-tipped stake to kill my character. Needs to be both.”
Stone and Alan laughed, and Stone found himself feeling more relaxed than he had since he’d left Alaska. Or maybe it had been longer than that. He didn’t tease his brothers often—Reed got too mean, and Winter was sensitive to perceived criticism—and it had been a while since he’d lived close enough to his old friends to meet for drinks like this.
It was… nice.
Stone ordered an IPA on tap and a platter of wings to share. He had realized the best way to avoid letting something slip was to keep the others talking about themselves, so he peppered Alan with questions about his training regimen and quizzed Jackson on the number of dance classes he’d taken as an actor.
“Not as many as you’d think,” Jackson admitted. “Unless there’s a week where we tap or do jazz hands. Ballroom’s a whole other beast.”
“How about you?” Stone asked, turning to Alan. “Any dance experience?”
Alan shook his head. “Running is my life. I thought the training would’ve prepared me for this, but damn, dancing ishard.”
Stone chuckled. “I hear you. I’m exhausted every day.”
“I don’t know how these dancers do it,” Jackson chimed in. “Moving nonstop for hours on end, and aiming for perfection every time.”
“The perfection part I understand,” Alan mused. “Otherwise why do it?”
“Okay, Mr. Three-Time-Gold-Medalist, we see you,” Jackson said with a grin. “What’s your partner like?”
“Rhianne?” Alan shrugged. “She’s a drill sergeant. Aren’t they all?”
Jackson nodded. “Lori kicks my ass and I love it. I haven’t worked this hard since I was in drama school during the day and waiting tables at night.”
“What about you?” Alan asked Stone. “How are you getting along with Gina?”
Before Stone could answer, Jackson slammed his empty glass down on the table and gaped at him. “Are youblushing?”
“No. Absolutely not.” Stone ducked his head and drank deep from his beer, hoping it would cool his face.
It didn’t.
Jackson leaned in, squinting at him. “Youare.”
Stone tried to steer them away from talking about Gina. “It’s just… you don’t find the whole dancing thing a little embarrassing?”
To his surprise, the other guys shook their heads.
“Dancing is a sport,” Alan said. “Just as much as track or football.”
“And this show is going to make us famous.” Jackson’s voice was as serious as Stone had ever heard it. “The Dance Offhas ten times as many viewers asBite MeandLiving Wildcombined.”
Alan pointed at Stone with a hot wing. “But I don’t think that’s why you’re turning red.”
“I agree.” Jackson flagged down the waiter. “I saw you two at the salsa club. That didn’t look like practice to me.”
“We’re—” Stone broke off, not sure what he was about to say. Ever since that night, Gina had been all business, as if their near-kiss at Club Picante had never happened. The cameras probably wouldn’t pick up on it, but he could feel the difference between them. While he missed her easy warmth and joking manner, it was for the best. He didn’t need the distraction.
“She’s a good teacher,” he finally said.
“So are Lori and Rhianne,” Jackson pointed out. “But you didn’t see us blushing when their names came up.”
