Page 31 of Awaiting the Storm
“Not anymore. I only came tonight to get my sisters off my back.”
I glance down at the black lace covering her hip.
“They strong-arm you into that dress too?”
Her gaze sharpens. “You got something to say about the way I’m dressed?”
“Only that I might owe them a thank-you.”
That earns me the barest twitch of her lips.
“You’re smooth. Do the ladies usually fall for that charm?” she asks as she swirls the dark liquid in her glass.
“No,” I say, then add, “Sometimes.”
She takes another sip, eyes scanning the crowd, avoiding mine. “What are you really doing here?”
“Would you believe me if I said I came for the music?”
“Nope.”
I nod, accepting that. “Then let’s just say, I’m curious.”
“About what exactly?”
“You.”
That finally pulls her gaze back to me, calm and steady.
“Curiosity,” she says, “kills the cat.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“No?” She smirks. “Maybe you should be.”
“You mean afraid of you, I’m guessing.”
She doesn’t answer, but the look on her face says I’m not wrong.
Onstage, Wildhaven Junction strikes their first chord, and the crowd roars their encouragement. The floor starts filling with boots and denim.
Charli and Shelby jump up immediately and drag Cabe with them, leaving me alone with Matty. The moment stretches between us.
“You dance, Galloway?” she asks, not looking at me.
“I can.”
“Can or do?”
I finish the last sip of my bourbon and set the glass down. Then I stand and offer her my hand. “Let’s find out.”
The lights on the dance floor shimmer through the smoky air, and Caison’s hand presses against the small of my back like it was made to rest there. His other hand holds mine, steady and warm, his fingers rough in a way that makes my skin tingle. We move with the beat of the music, in swift circles, his boot brushing mine from time to time, like we’ve danced together more than just this once.
I don’t know what I expected when I let him lead me out here. Maybe something stiff or overly rehearsed. But he’s confident, sure of himself—not cocky, not showy. Just easy. Steady. The kind of man who won’t step on your toes or let you fall.
And Lord help me, he smells good. Clean leather and sandalwood, with a hint of something warm and smoky. Whatever it is, I like it.
I shouldn’t be dancing with him. I should be reminding myself of who he is, what he wants. But right now, for the length of this song anyway, I just let myself go with it.
