Page 70 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO
“You’ve still got moves!” Maya teases, bumping her hip into mine.
“And you’ve still got no rhythm,” I shoot back, grinning.
She gasps in mock offense. “Rude!”
Grace joins in next, her arms in the air as she bounces to the music. “Now this is what we needed!” she yells over the noise.
After a while, the song shifts to something slower but no less engaging. The crowd sways together, and I close my eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over me.
When I open them, I freeze mid-step. My heart stumbles in my chest when I spot Liam standing just a few feet away with a group of people. He is watching me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Hazel,” Grace whispers, her eyes darting to Liam. “Isn’t that…?”
“Yeah, it is,” I say quickly.
Maya follows our line of sight. “Interesting,” she whispers, her voice dripping with suggestion.
“Not a word,” I warn.
She smirks but mercifully leaves it alone, spinning away to continue dancing.
Before I can process what is happening, Liam breaks away from his group and starts walking toward us.
“Hey,” he says, stopping a few feet away. He looks at me, then at Grace and Maya. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Likewise,” I say, forcing a casual tone. “What brings you to a music festival?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Music, mostly. And the fact that it is a festival is reason enough to be here, don’t you think?”
“You’re having fun,” he says.
I arch a brow. “Is that a question or an observation?”
“A little of both.”
“Well, I’m having fun,” I say, crossing my arms but unable to stop the grin creeping onto my face. “What about you?”
“I’m getting there,” he admits, glancing toward the stage. “You still got the moves, though.”
“Oh, I know.” I flip my hair dramatically, raising a brow. “Who do you think I am?”
“A cocky little thing,” he says with a shrug.
I gasp, feigning offense. “Rude! You have clearly forgotten who you're talking to.”
Liam snorts, shaking his head. “Oh, I remember, all right.”
“Well, Mr. Observer,” I say, stepping closer and poking a finger lightly into his chest, “let’s see if you’ve got any moves yourself.”
He raises a brow, “I’m pretty sure we’ve established that dancing isn’t my thing.”
“And I’m pretty sure you didn’t give a damn back then with your one-legged dancing…,” I counter, grabbing his hand before he can retreat.
“That was a long time ago.”
“There are no excuses here. Let’s go.”
“Hazel…”
