Page 3 of Flirty Pucking Wolf

“Hello, Nancy,” Sophie says.

The way she keeps her voice neutral is amazing. In the few days we’ve known each other I’ve heard her scream like a banshee, I’ve seen her be snarky. This is the first time I’ve seen her hold her anger.

“We only have Trevor for an hour and a half before he has to go do hockey things, so what do you want us to do first?”

“Well, we already have the footage of you meeting at the announcement. Let’s have you tell him about the dance,” Nancy says. “Have you done any choreography yet?”

“I’ve started on it,” Sophie says. “I want to discuss it with Trevor.”

“It’s your job to tell him what to do,” the bitch says. “You’re the pro. Act like it.”

Before I spout off, Sophie jumps in. “Nancy, I know my job. Trevor is mypartner. He’s allowed to have thoughts and input.”

Ooh, I like it when Sophie uses her snark for good.

“That’s not how Ian does it.”

What is up with this woman? How is this professional behavior?

Sophie shifts her weight and puts a hand on her hip. “Well, I’m not my brother.”

Is it wrong I find this display of sass sexy?

“Yeah, you’re not. He wins.” Nancy gives that ‘so there’ sniff and looks down her nose at Sophie from her greater height. She’s a good six inches taller, and she’s trying to use that as an intimidation tactic. Sophie refuses to be intimidated. This is fun to watch.

“Yeah, he does. Those that can, dance. Those that can’t, produce.” Sophie gives her own ‘so there’ face right back.

I realize Nigel is surreptitiously recording the exchange on his phone. I don’t know what he’s going to do with it, but the wink he gives me when he realizes I notice what he’s doing is giving me hope he isn’t going to use it against Sophie.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s get started. Sophie, tell me what our dance is. I trust you. I’ll follow your lead and make you a winner.”

She holds up her hand for a high five. She’s short, so it’s really a mid-five for me, but I appreciate the sentiment. “Makeuswinners.”

I like how she says us. I know she doesn’t mean it the way my brain does. This is our first rehearsal. We’ve known each other less than a week, and other than that kiss on New Year’s, nothing has happened between us. There isn’t an us. That’s okay. Nigel is ready with his camera, and Nancy nods for us to start talking.

“So, our first routine is a cha-cha,” Sophie says.

“That’s a Latin dance from Cuba with sharp hip and leg action and footwork, right?” I ask with a wink.

The way she pops a dimple while trying to hold back a smile is adorable.

“How much experience do you have with choreography?” she asks. I shrug. “I’m used to counts and memorizing choreo from cheerleading, but there aren’t tempo changes the same way there are in dance. When I dance, it’s usually contemporary, so there’s choreography but not the same rules.”

Nancy stands next to Nigel, tapping her toe, lips pursed. I hope she’s just here for this first rehearsal and leaves us alone most of the time after this.

“You were a cheerleader?” Nancy asks. “Like with pom-poms?” The disdain she feels is evident. I don’t know if she’s anti-pom-pom, anti-male cheerleaders, or anti-people in general.

Next to me, Sophie stiffens. I’m so used to the question it doesn’t bother me, but I appreciate Sophie’s reaction.

“No pom-poms,” I tell her. “I was the muscle. Lifting, throwing, tumbling.”

“Can I continue?” Sophie asks. It takes a lot of effort, but I hold back the chuckle that’s trying to escape.

Nancy flutters her hand like she’s granting royal permission. I can’t stand this woman, and I don’t want to work with her. I need to go over my contract again. An advantage of my law degree is I know my way around a contract. I don’t have a say in my partner, but I think I can request a different producer.

After taking a deep breath, Sophie gives a bright smile that’s as fake as Nancy’s tan and starts her spiel.

“The cha-cha is all about rhythm, energy, and having a great time on the dance floor. Yes, it has that signature hip action. As we move, let your hips sway a bit.” She demonstrates, and I’m transfixed by the metronomic motion of her hips. When she keeps talking, I force myself to pay attention to her words and not just her body’s hypnotizing sway.

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