“I Follow Rivers.”
This is, hands down, my favorite song, and over the years, Luke has used that fact against me so many times. Whenever I’m in a pissy mood, he turns it on and forces me to dance away the negativity.
We make our way to the middle of the floor, and with my hands held high in the air, I bounce around to the beat of the song, laughing and smiling as I do.
And Luke? Well, he’s always been a really good dancer. Not skilled per se, but he just knows how to move his body, and he knows how to let go without worrying about what he looks like or what anyone thinks.
Honestly, before he came into my life, I don’t think I danced like I do now. I was always a little hesitant, always holding back. But with Luke, I just let go. And goddamn, it’s the most fun I’ve ever had.
The song continues, and eventually, my sisters and their guys join us.
We’re all laughing and dancing and having a good time.
But when I spot a very familiar face at the bar, my eyes go wide, and I quickly close the distance between Luke and me, hiding my body behind his.
Oh, what the hell is she doing here?!
He places his hands on my hips, still moving us to the beat, but his eyes peer down into mine with curiosity.
“Callie,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Callie Camden is here. Behind you, at the bar.”
“No shit?”
“Gah.” I press my body against his, doing everything I can to stay hidden. “She can’t see me, or else she’ll want to talk about that stupid reunion and the fact that I ordered the cake and desserts too last minute.”
Truthfully, I almost forgot about those damn desserts. It took Luke asking me when we were waiting for our plane to start boarding for me to remember.
And because I was so last minute at the bakery Callie insisted we use, and said bakery is incredibly small and pretty much bakes for the whole damn town, her dessert hopes did not come to fruition. Needless to say, her vision of macarons and cheesecakes and shit didn’t happen.
We’re getting cake and cupcakes. Which didn’t go over too well when I broke the news to her via email. There are still several unanswered, anger-inspired messages sitting in my inbox.
Talk about a fucking mess. One I shouldn’t even be involved in, to be honest.
Yeah, but if it weren’t for that, you wouldn’t be right here, with Luke, dancing…
“Just forget about her,” he whispers into my ear, his lips nearly brushing my skin. “She can fuck right off if she thinks she’s going to come over here and ruin our fun.”
“What? Are you going to tell her to take a hike?” I meet his eyes, a challenging smile on my lips.
“Oh, it would be a pleasure, Ace. A real fucking pleasure.”
I giggle at that, but also, I believe it. Luke is generally a pretty laid-back, relaxed kind of guy. He’s level-headed and doesn’t have a temper.
But he does have a limit.
And when that limit is reached, he has no qualms about speaking his mind.
Or punching some guy in the face for trying to take advantage of your inebriated state…
Yeah. That too.
The song switches over to something slower, still fast-moving, but it’s more seductive, sexier.
“Is she still there?” he asks me, his voice quiet and warm in my ear.
I glance over his shoulder and note that Callie and someone I recognize as her husband Kyle, a guy I went to high school with, are heading toward the door.
“Uh…yeah…” I hesitate.
“Can she see you?”
“Um…I can’t be sure…” I answer, even though I watch them walk out of the bar.
Miss Popularity has left the building, but for some strange reason, I don’t want Luke to know that.
“Let’s just keep dancing,” he whispers into my ear again, and the warmth of his breath and close proximity of his body urge a shiver up my spine. He continues to grip my hips and lead our bodies in synchrony with the beat of the song.
The aroma of his cologne—hints of cedar and vanilla and scent I can’t recognize—invades my nostrils and fills my head with nostalgia and memories and familiarity and something else I can’t discern.
But whatever it is, it makes my heart beat faster in my chest.
The song talks about latching on to someone, and fuck, if it isn’t exactly what I want to do.
I want to latch on to him.
I want to bottle this moment and keep it forever.
I want to memorize the way I feel within his strong, muscular embrace.
I want to remember the way his brown eyes lighten beneath the bar lights and the way they darken whenever he looks down at me.
I don’t ever want to forget the way his tongue sneaks out to lick across his bottom lip. Or the way his skin feels against mine when we’re moving to the music.