Page 106 of Bottle Shock
My jaw clenches so hard it could crack. He’s talking to her like she needs a favor.
Scottie’s expression doesn’t change, but I know her well enough to know she’s not interested. “That’s really kind of you, but L.A. wasn’t for me. Thanks, though.”
Andy smirks, smarmy and condescending. “Well, I guess not everyone is cut out for it. Takes a certain type to make it in Hollywood. Not everyone’s got it.”
I answer before she has to.
“She’s been incredibly successful. And your ‘buddy’—who you conveniently didn’t name because he’s probably a nobody—isn’t going to help her with anything. If she wanted to, she would.”
Maggie clears her throat—pointedly. “Andy. Leave these people alone.”
He laughs. “I’m just making conversation.”
That’s not what he’s doing, but fine. I let it go. For now.
Carl stands, dusting sand from his hands. “Fire’s perfect. If anyone wants to grab the stuff for s’mores, now’s the time.”
Scottie perks up. “I’ll get it.”
She starts to get up—but Andy stands at the same time.
Is he fucking serious right now?
“Let me give you a hand,” he says, reaching a little too close to her elbow. “I know where everything is.”
Yeah, over my dead body is he going somewhere alone with her.
I rise without thinking, every muscle tight. “We’ll figure it out.” I step between them just enough to draw a line.
Scottie looks up at me, her lips lifting at the corners as she slips her hand into mine.
We head up toward the house, hand in hand, leaving Andy in the dust and the bonfire behind us.
Inside, it’s still, but there’s the faint sound of music drifting through the air. Something on the guitar. Maybe from the neighbors, or someone left a speaker on inside.
The s’mores supplies are right on the counter in a small woven basket, so we obviously didn’t need the greasy-haired douche to help find anything.
I grab it to head back out, but stop when I notice Scottie. Her palms are flat on the kitchen island, eyes closed, head tipped back as she sways gently to the music.
The cardigan sleeve is falling down her arm, hair slipping over her shoulders.
So pretty.
She opens her eyes and finds me already looking at her. Color rises in her cheeks.
“Sorry,” she says, laughing a little. “I love this song.”
I set the basket down and step closer.
My hand slips to the small of her back as I guide her hand up to my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We fall into a slow sway, fitting together without effort.
Her smile spreads, soft and delighted. “That was sneaky. I didn’t even notice you were easing me into a dance.”
I grin down at her. “I’ve got a few moves. Us nerdy guys only break them out when absolutely necessary.”
She laughs softly, the sound warm and breathy, and I feel her smile against me. “If by nerdy you mean glasses and brains, then I guess I’ve always had a thing for nerds. One in particular.”
