Tap (Men of Lovibond 1)

“Ah, lavender. That’s the scent I’ve noticed every time I’m near you. It’s very nice.” When was the last time a man told me I smelled nice? Has it been that long since I’ve had someone interested in me? Is that why I’ve felt a little alone lately? Is that also why I’m sticking around for the weekend? Or is that just the sexy man sitting in front of me?

“What do you do when you’re not working?”

“I hang out with friends, go to the beach, do yoga, volunteer at the humane society.”

“You’re an animal lover?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have any pets. I get my animal fix by helping out at the shelter.” I wish I had time to devote to a pet but I stay at the shop for too many hours at a time to leave an animal alone.

“Are Ivy and Kelsey uninhibited like you?”

Lucas is more aware of things about me than I thought. “How do you know of my friends?”

His eyes widen. “Oliver has talked about them.”

“I bet. Did he also tell you how hard he crushes on both?”

“He might have mentioned something about them being hot.” I thought he might.

“They aren’t like me. Ivy is a nurse so she has a completely different mindset when it comes to healing. Kelsey is a loan officer at a bank. Both of them are very analytical.”

“And you’re abstract. I bet that causes some debates.”

“Not really. They respect my opinion as I do theirs.” We’ve been friends for a long time and it’s never been an issue.

“You agree to disagree.”

“Mostly.”

My attention is stolen when my ears perk up for a rendition of Twin Forks’ “Kiss Me Darling.” I love that song so much, and perhaps it speaks more about me than I thought. It’s been a long time indeed.

“What is it?” Lucas asks.

“That song. I can’t believe the band is playing it. It’s one of my favorites.”

Lucas stands and offers his hand. “Then we have no choice but to dance if it’s one of your favorites.”

He holds my hand as he leads me to the crowd around the folk rock band on the small stage. “No one else is dancing.”

Lucas gestures toward a drunken man doing something I don’t classify as dancing. “Not true. Look at him. He’s gettin’ down.”

The guy stumbles and nearly face-plants. “He’s going to get down all right.” And possibly not get up.

“He’s having a good time.” Lucas spins me outward and twirls me back so I’m pressed against his chest. “And so are we.”

He guides me backward, holding my hands while swaying to the beat of the music. He’s leading me to move with him. Not a bad dancer. “Come on, Wren. You don’t strike me as one who cares what people think of you on the dance floor. Let go. I dare you.”

He wants me to let go? I can do that. There’s very little I do better.

I grab his hands and use them to propel myself away. I release one and spin back into his arms so my back is pressed to his front. Let’s see what he thinks of that.

He laces his fingers through mine and his arms wrap around me, holding my body close as we sway with the upbeat tempo of the folk song. And I let him. This shouldn’t feel this good with a man I hardly know. But it does.

I close my eyes and surrender to the music. And to the way this man’s arms feel around me. Everything I told him about not needing a man to feel complete was true. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss the feel of one. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this. I miss it. I didn’t realize how much until this moment.

There’s been no one since Xavier. Not since the night he pulled my hair and held me down. “You are mine and no one else’s.”

He was rough. Painful. Nothing hot or sexy about it. I saw a Jimmy-like possessiveness in his eyes that night. Fucking scary as hell.

I don’t want to think about that. I prefer to enjoy being in the arms of Lucas.

Dancing is an acceptable disguise for touching. Rubbing. It’s like making out with your clothes on. When the song ends, no one has to explain anything. It’s perfectly acceptable to pretend the only thing you did was move to the music.

I press my body against Lucas and use my hands to encourage a tighter hold around me. Our embrace grows firmer. The tickle of his beard and warmth of his breath against my neck send a tingle down my body, a message signaling goosebumps to erupt over my skin. No man has done that, or had this kind of effect on me, in ages.

Lucas rubs his hands up and down my pimpled skin. Oh, God. He’s taken notice. He feels and sees the proof of what he’s doing to me. It’s a physical reaction I can’t control. There’s no denying or hiding it. Shit.

I hear the chorus of “Kiss Me Darling” coming from his lips, the ones so close to my ear. More goosebumps. As if I didn’t have enough already. “You know this song?”

“Listen to it all the time.”

Lucas knowing this song is unexpected. Him singing it is hot. Hearing him say those words against my ear is a huge turn-on.

He squeezes my hand when the female’s solo approaches. “Your part.”

I tilt my head from side to side to keep tempo and follow his cue to sing when the girl’s lines start. I can’t sing for shit. I should be embarrassed. But I’m not. I’m having too much fun to care how pitiful my voice sounds.

The crowd claps and yells when the song ends. Lucas releases me, and we join in praising the band, but it’s over too soon. I wasn’t ready for him to let go.

“That was fun.”

“It was. I wish I could hang out here longer but I’m judging a home brew contest in twenty minutes. I should probably make my way to the judge’s tent so Porter doesn’t send someone looking for me.”

“Probably a good idea.” I’m sure I’ve kept Lucas from his responsibilities long enough.

“Wanna come with me?”

I want to but Lucas is a host at this festival. This is work for him. He should be networking and ensuring things run smoothly. Not entertaining me. I’m preventing him from properly doing his job. “I don’t want to hinder you.”

“Not possible, so come with me.”

He acts like he wants me to go. I think he would have dropped it if he didn’t. “Okay.”

We pass all kinds of activities on the way to the competition booth. Cornhole boards. Life-size mechanical . . . something. Beer pong. I had no idea there were so many things to do. “Whoever organized all of this did a great job.”

“We hired a professional event organizer, but she’d never done a beer festival before. Stout, Porter, and I mostly came up with this stuff.”

“Who suggested beer pong?”

“That was Stout.” I knew the answer before I asked.

“I figured. He was the beer pong champion in his fraternity.”

“There was a 3K this morning. The organizer insisted we do that.”

I’m not a runner but I might have walked it had I known there was one. “A marathon before a beerathon. Nice.”

“I thought it was a mistake but Lisa was right. We had a huge turnout.”

You can never go wrong with a race. “People like stuff like that.”

“I guess.”

“You’re not a runner?”

“No. You?”

I’m fine with exercise but running is not my thing. Too jiggly. I prefer something calming. “I’m more of a yoga and meditation sort of girl.”

“I can see that about you.”

I’m surprised by the large crowd at the judges’ tent. “Looks like you had a lot of entries.”

“Yes, I think there’re fifty-five.”

Shit. That’s a lot of beer even if you only taste them. “You’re going to be drunk as a skunk by the time you finish sampling all those beers.”

Lucas chuckles. “I’ll probably have to take a cab home.”

“I have my car. I’m happy to give you a ride.” I bet the police will be out and about looking to handout DUIs.

“Po

rter is splitting the categories with me. I’m judging IPA and the pales, reds, and browns. He’s taking the porters and stouts and anything falling into the other category: sours, lagers, etcetera.”

“A sour beer.” The thought of it makes my face pucker. “That sounds weird. I’m not sure who’d want to drink that.”

“You’d be surprised.” His brows lift and the corners of his mouth turn up. “You should do the tasting with me.”

I can’t judge beer. “I’m not familiar enough with it to know what the different types should taste like.”

“It’s called quantitative parameters. Stout and Porter taught me. I’ll teach you.”

Beer is my brother’s livelihood. I wouldn’t mind learning more about it. Maybe then I’ll understand what sparked his interest in brewing. “I think I’d like that.”