Deconstructed(54)

“Amelia,” she said, taking my hand, giving a small wag, and then dropping it. “I’m one of Ty’s friends. We met at Becca Stilton’s lake house this past summer during floatillion. We were on Dickie Doyle’s sailboat together. We had so much fun on the lake that day.”

I supposed that was an invitation to say who I was and how I knew Ty. It was the veritable scratching of the chalk onto the concrete floor. First rule of Female Flirt Club: you sweep the leg . . . or maybe I was mixing up my fight movies. So I went for catching Miss Name Dropper off guard. “That’s so weird. I met Ty at a sex club. On land.”

Ty choked with laughter as Amelia blinked a few times, her mouth opening and then closing as she tried to discern whether I was joking or not.

“Kidding,” I said, laying my hand on his chest. “I met him at the store where I work.”

“Oh, you’re a salesperson or checkout clerk or something?” Amelia asked, sensing a TKO, because who in his rich mind would date a cashier?

“I’m the ‘or something,’” I said, without offering any further explanation.

“Oh,” Amelia said, ducking the blow. “Well, I love your dress. It’s so unusual.”

“Thank you,” I said, eyeing her very plain black dress with rhinestone spaghetti straps. Dime a dozen in this room, but Amelia wore it well. The diamonds in her ears were likely real and a few carats each. Her makeup looked professionally done. And if I were a betting woman, I would say that she’d been a Tri Delta at Bama, drove a car her daddy had bought her, and had never worked a day in her life. Except maybe lifeguarding at the club because that was a “hangout” sort of job.

“Well, I see my friend across the room. We were sorority sisters at Bama. I must say hello.”

“Tri Delt?” I asked for the hell of it.

“Ohmygosh, yes. Wait, are you one?” She looked puzzled. Out-and-out puzzled.

“Nooo, I was a GDI.” I laughed good-naturedly, holding up my hand as if making a pledge. “President for two years.”

Amelia did the blinky thing again before shifting her gaze toward Ty. “Well, gotta run. Nice to see you, Ty, and good to meet you, Roni.”

Damn, she got that jab in at the last minute.

I turned and looked at Ty as Amelia sauntered over to find her sister. My date looked absolutely delighted with me, and that made me suddenly lighter. He gave me another squeeze and said, “Sex club?”

“Well, I didn’t know what a damned floatillion was.”

Ty’s eyes were dancing. “It’s a bunch of people wearing designer sunglasses, drinking White Claws, and tying their boats together in a sort of lake party. There’s a poker run, fireworks, and lots of people getting laid. Wanna come with me this summer?”

“That’s a loaded question,” I punned.

Ty didn’t get my pun on getting drunk (or laid, for that matter), but that’s okay. He was pretty to look at, thought I was amusing, and was standing beside me, making me feel less cynical and more like a girl wearing a smashing gown at the biggest ball in town. Cinderella never had it so good.

The band struck up “Wonderful Tonight,” and he hooked an eyebrow at me.

Dancing to a hokey song with pretty words? Ugh. I needed death metal. But the romance of it all made me nod. He took my hand and led me to the dance floor.

Ty placed my hand on his shoulder and pulled me close. “You do look wonderful tonight.”

Inside I may have rolled my eyes a little, but I also felt my heart contract. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the ones I’m dancing with,” he joked, setting his cheek against my forehead, the bristles of his beard rubbing in a more pleasurable way than I remembered. It had been many, many years since I had been held in a man’s arms, moving to soft music. Forgotten appreciation for the pressure of his hand on my lower back and the way his thighs brushed against mine summoned a sigh.

He pulled back and looked down at me. “What?”

“Nothing,” I whispered, my gaze meeting his. “I had forgotten how much I liked to dance.”

And that’s when he kissed me.

I hadn’t expected it, but it was well done. Ty had plenty of practice, I’d no doubt, and I felt the unfamiliar stirring of desire lift its head from a long winter’s nap. His tongue sought entry, and I allowed it because, damn it, it felt so good to be wanted, to be claimed, to be just a girl who had no cares and could kiss a man on the dance floor anytime she wanted. Thankfully, the kiss was thorough, and not a mauling of my senses, so I enjoyed it immensely.

Ty lifted his head and murmured, “You taste like champagne.”

My answer was to set my head against his chest and move to the music, enjoying his arms around me. I caught sight of Amelia watching us. I had a flash of sympathy, but nothing too strong. She wanted him.

And I didn’t know what I was going to do with him.

A guy like Ty didn’t fit with a girl like me. I knew this, and I also knew I was allowing myself to entertain the idea of being with him, which was dangerous. Because he lived in a totally different world, one I would never work in. Oh sure, I would love to have money, but I couldn’t see myself hanging out with the Beccas and Amelias of the world. I didn’t have sorority letters or a private-school education. I couldn’t care less about the style of monogram chosen for an overpriced tote bag. The jewelry, the designer purses, and the gold designer belt buckles—all that worth signaling wasn’t something I would ever do. I liked quality things, sure, but I didn’t buy things so I could be in a social circle of acceptance.