Page 38 of Keep Your Guard Up
I groaned. “We’re actually having a really nice time together, for once, and you choose to throw a nuke at it?” I tossed back another swig.
“You’re not close, I take it?” He gave me a sidelong glance, wariness lining his gaze.
“Nope.”Not anymore, that little voice said. I took another gulp, the whiskey starting to lose its burn going down my throat. “One day, I’ll stand at his grave and be filled with the regret of the times we didn’t have. But today isn’t that day.”
Chance stared at me for a long moment, those blue eyes scattering across my face as if he was reading a book.
“Righto, my turn,” I said.
“Uh-oh.”
“Tell me how a big-time UFC fighter, impeccable record, thousands of adoring fans … ended up here.”
“What’s so strange about here?”
I gave him a long look. “Come on. You’re from the city.Mr Darlington Harbour. You can’t possibly mean to tell me that small-town Soggla is better than that.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Sunny.” A playful smirk broke out across his pink lips. “I love it here.”
There was not a single part of me that could ignore the warm feeling inside my chest that sprouted from hearing those words.
Chapter 19
Mari
We reached the gym in what somehow felt like both hours and minutes. We had taken many,manyaccidental reroutes. Chance, I learned, could hold his whiskey much better than I could. He was still walking perfectly, catching me swiftly whenever I stumbled. Only the slight slur in his voice gave him away.
“What now, Sunny?”
I grinned and held up a finger for him to wait while I whisked over to the radio. The switch flickered when I pushed it into full blast. Turning back towards him, I found his eyes quickly snapping up to mine.
Sneaky, Chance. Very sneaky.
“Come on.” I waved a hand towards him, gesturing him forward.
His brows ticked up in silent question.
“Dance with me, Chance.”
His blue eyes darkened, and he stiffened.
After a moment, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
He cleared his throat. “You’ve never called me that before.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, until the song changed. “Tennessee Whiskey” by Chris Stapleton filled the room.
“I love this song.” The alcohol coursing through my veins fused with the music. I hadn’t even felt myself slip into a sway until strong arms swept me up.
We fell easily into a thankfully simple slow dance, my left hand curling and brushing over his scarred knuckles and calloused fingers.
“Such a pretty dancer, Sunny baby,” he murmured.
His face was so close to mine, the dim light shining off his lips.
“I could say the same thing about you,Twinkle Toes,” I teased.
He bowed his head in laughter and the warmth of his breath caught on my lips.
