“I was thinking about how easy it would be to kiss you,” I admit somewhat sheepishly.
Her security guard follows us into the room, and then he finds a place to loiter away from everyone. “You really can pretend he’s not there, huh?” I nod toward where he’s standing.
She brushes a hand through the air. “You get used to it.” She winces. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries. Whatever it takes to keep you safe. So, who do you want me to say you are?” I ask. “Do you want people to know you’re Wren Vasquez from Fallen from Zero?”
She smoothes her hair. “Dressed like this, I seriously doubt anyone will recognize me. We’re safe.”
When she and her sisters play music on stage, they dress very casually, in a punk-rock-chic kind of look. Classy but wild. Heavy makeup and big hair. This version of Wren I like a lot.
Suddenly, a voice booms out, “Mick, you must introduce us to your date!” I look over and find my boss and his wife barreling toward us.
“This is my friend, Wren,” I say, as she extends her hand. I settle my hand on her hip and she doesn’t move away. In fact, she leans solidly against my side.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
We chat about nothing for a few minutes, and then I hear my boss’s wife ask, “What is it you do for a living, Wren?”
Wren’s eyes meet mine, twinkling. “Music,” she says. “I work with music.”
And I think I just fell a little bit more in love with Wren Vasquez, or whoever she is. The girl in the red dress who smiles at me like she doesn’t have a care in the world. That girl. I’m falling for that girl.
All over again.
“You’re a lucky man, Mick,” my boss says quietly.
“I know,” I say, and I take a sip of my drink and stand back and watch Wren as she charms everyone around her.
Wren
A hand encircles my waist, the pressure light and gentle, and I lean into it, recognizing his scent immediately. “Can I steal you away?” Mick asks close to my ear.
I lean closer to him. “Depends. Do you need me for something?”
His dark eyes grow even darker. “Just you,” he says. He takes my hand and tangles his fingers with mine, giving a gentle tug.
“Excuse me,” I tell his coworkers. “I think someone needs me.” I make it seem like a terrible inconvenience, but, honestly, I like it. I like it a lot. My belly flips as he pulls me onto the dance floor.
“Do you know how to dance?” he asks, as he pulls me close to him and lifts my hands to rest on his shoulders.
I scoff. “Pffttt. Do I know how to dance! Of course, I know how to dance.”
The toe of my shoe bumps his and I nearly trip him, but he catches himself. “Good, because I don’t know how to dance a single step,” he admits with a grin. “You might have to lead.”
“We could always do the prom sway,” I suggest.
“How does that go?”
“Just like this,” I reply as I rock from side to side. He falls into a rhythm with me.
“Are you having any fun at all?” he asks as his thumb draws a circle on my hip.
“Your boss and his wife are very nice. I’ve liked everyone I’ve met so far. Except for the redhead who keeps shooting daggers at me with her eyes.” I look over his shoulder and see her standing with her hands on her hips. “Is that the girl from last night? The redhead with glasses?”
“Her name is Claire. She’s actually the reason you’re here,” he says a bit sheepishly. His cheeks grow pink.
I stop moving. “What do you mean?”