He looks at me with adoration, as if he really appreciates me asking that question. “Of course. But thank you for asking. I actually don’t mind when people drink around me. I’m not sure what it was but my sobriety just clicked one day. Honestly, it seemed like a miracle or some sort of divine intervention.” He shrugs. “I know it’s different for everyone but for some reason I feel no desire to drink, even if those around me are.”
I nod, contemplating his words. The more I get to know him, the more impressed I am by Anders. He’s overcome a lot to be where he is today. He’s accomplished, passionate, and for some reason, wants to spend more time with me. My brow furrows and he reaches up immediately to smooth the divot that forms.
“You are thinking very loudly right now,” he chuckles.
“I just—”
“Anders,” a voice booms and Anders immediately tenses. “There you are. We’ve been waiting for you to get here. Let me grab you a whiskey.”
“I don’t drink anymore, Dad. I’ve told you this,” Anders responds, barely turning toward the towering man that has joined us.
Erik Olsson looks put together, but his rosy cheeks indicate that he’s had plenty to drink tonight. He’s tall, like his son, but he’s blonde to Anders’ bright auburn. They have the same striking green eyes, which disarms me as the eldest Olsson’s land on me.
I’m reeling from the fact that Erik Olsson doesn’t support his son’s sobriety, which makes all the more sense as to why Anders was so surprised when I asked if he was okay with me drinking tonight.
Before I get a chance to say anything, Erik’s overpowering voice cuts in again. “And who is this lovely lady?”
Anders angles his body in front of mine. “This is Bex. You remember my friend Gabe? This is his sister.”
Erik’s eyes flash back and forth between us. “Sleeping with your best friend’s sister? That’s a new low for you isn’t it, son? She is nice to look at though,” he notes, lifting his whiskey glass in a mock toast.
My whole body flushes and I can feel Anders fuming. “Back away, Erik, before I make a scene. You know Mom wants us to look like one big, happy family.” When he doesn’t move, Anders takes a step closer. “Again, I suggest you back the fuck off.”
Erik lifts his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t mind me! I’m just impressed you listened to me for once. Keep that up and I might actually sign over your inheritance.” He turns to walk away before throwing over his shoulder, “Nice to meet you, Brooke.”
Anders immediately turns to me, eyes roaming my face to gauge my reaction. His hands come up to run comforting circles up and down my arms. “So… that was my dad. As you can see, I’m not his biggest fan.”
I am hearing Anders but my mind is whirling with the implications of what his father just said. He might sign over the inheritance? It feels like there is something I’m missing here and I really don’t like that feeling. I try to shake it off so I can enjoy the rest of the evening with Anders.
“I’m fine,” I say, even though he didn’t ask.
“Okay… that’s, uh, that’s good. Do you want to talk about it?”
I down my champagne and turn back to Anders. “Not right now. What I really want to do is dance with the handsome man who brought me here tonight. Can we do that?”
A smile skates across his face. “Of course we can, Rebecca,” he replies, offering me his hand.
Anders leads us to the dance floor, spinning me around once we get there. His hand lands on my waist and the other delicately holds my hand out to our side. It’s then that I realize that I have no idea how to dance to the fancy string quartet playing a waltz maybe?
Anders must see the look of panic on my face because he leans in and whispers, “Just let me lead, okay?”
And so I do.
And Anders does. He leads me around and around the dance floor like he was born for it. Which, I suppose he kind of was.
My skirt twirls, surrounding us, and I feel like an actual princess with my knight in shining armor rescuing me from my poor waltz skills. He just laughs when I accidentally step on his toes, eyes lighting up with mischief right before dipping me so low, I feel like I’ll tumble to the dance floor. But Anders has me, like he always does.
My nervousness over this evening melts further away with each spin we take. I really start to listen to the song and realize they are playing modern songs, Bridgerton style. This one I recognize as “You and Me” by Lifehouse, which is beautiful on the strings.
I relax enough into our dance that it dawns on me that Anders is really good at this. “Was waltzing a part of your elite boarding school education?” I tease.
“Well, I didn’t go to boarding school, but I did have to take some dance classes as a part of my theater undergrad,” he explains. “Knowing how to move your body across a stage is a necessary skill, and obviously musical theater includes all different genres of dancing, so we had several classes to introduce us to the basics.” He shrugs. “And maybe I enjoyed it and took a few extra classes on my own.”
“Anders Olsson! You did not take dance classes on your own,” I giggle in surprise.
He smirks. “I have. Still do occasionally. But I’ve never enjoyed dancing with a partner quite as much as I enjoy dancing with you. And you know what they say about dancing being the best form of seduction,” he says, adding a wink to punctuate that statement.
“I am feeling rather seduced… maybe we should just head back up to our room?”