Page 121 of Bling

“I was planning to wait until later to ask, but yes let’s go.”

He led them to the dance floor and rested a hand on her hip. The song was perfect for a waltz, so he started the patterned footwork, leading them around the dancefloor.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed. “You can dance. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

He chuckled. “Just be a good girl and let me lead and you’ll be just fine.”

Two more trips around and she’d mostly picked up the footwork.

“When did you have time to learn to dance?” she asked on their third rotation.

“One of the many skills picked up in boarding school. They deemed it an essential skill for young men. It’s come in handy at an inaugural ball or two, but that’s about it.”

“Well, it’s so getting you laid later,” she giggled.

“Doll, I’m pretty sure I was getting laid whether or not we danced.”

“True story,” she said.

When the song was over, he said, “Now I think you’ve earned another drink.”

They walked to the bar and ordered two more margaritas since he was not at all buzzed anymore. She took a small sip and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

He wasn’t ready to admit that he was glad to be here just yet, so he grinned and said, “I’m sure you’ll find a way to show your appreciation later.”

The early evening flew by with Garrett assisting her in a game of poker where she walked away with fifty dollars. She was slower with her drinks but was delightfully tipsy by the time ten o’clock rolled around.

The music and lights changed, and the DJ announced that children were no longer allowed on the dance floor.

The DJ leaned into the mic and said, “I’m excited about this next announcement. I’ve been DJ-ing for years at these things without getting to party myself. We’ve brought in an up-and-coming DJ for the rest of the night to play some more modern tunes for all you young folks. I may not know the dances, but I’ll be out there trying anyway. Help me welcome DJ Xion.” The crowd seemed confused at first, but when the new DJ stepped up to the mic and kicked up the volume on the latest dance mix, a sizeable group of younger people cheered and flooded the dancefloor.

“More of your meddling?” Isabelle asked pointedly. “You’re lucky you helped me win at poker or I might be mad at you. But also, I like this song. Can we dance?”

• • •

She couldn’t believe the nerve. He’d hired one of the hottest new DJs in the country. How he’d worked that magic she had no idea, but the poor guy had to be hating playing a family reunion when he could have been in a hot club somewhere.

If he was disappointed, he wasn’t showing it, though, which spoke to the amount of money Garrett must have been paying him. He had the crowd hyped and grooving just a half a song in. Now she was dragging Garrett onto the dancefloor to dance while she was buzzed enough to not be embarrassed. The dancefloor soon became a mob of arms, legs, and butts bumping against each other as cousins, siblings, aunts, and uncles at various stages of inebriation joined in the party.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” Garrett asked as he held her with her back against him and moved their bodies in time with the music. He was certainly a better dancer than she was.

“Maybe not mad. Just irritated. I specifically asked you not to meddle and you did it anyway.”

“I believe you demanded that I not meddle with no room for me to negotiate or give you my opinion.”

“I really don’t think you always have to be right,” she muttered. But he didn’t seem to hear her over the beat of the music. As the song faded into another, she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I want another drink.”

“Good news, I happen to know a guy,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes but let him lead her off the dance floor to the bar where he ordered two more margaritas.

“Can we get two shots with that?” she asked the bartender who looked at Garrett. He sighed and nodded. “Fine.”

He quickly set up two shot glasses with salt and lime and filled them with expensive tequila.

When they’d done their first shot, she’d been pleasantly surprised to discover that her tequila shooting skills had diminished none. Part of that could have been the expensive brand she was drinking. In college it had been whatever was cheap.

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