Where One Goes(32)

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting over here by yourself?” a voice asks, and when I look up, I see a very tall man with wide, broad shoulders and a beard. He looks like he’s maybe thirty or so, attractive in a rugged and country kind of way. Before I can respond, he takes the seat next to me and scoots closer.

“You must be the new girl in town everyone keeps talking about,” he says, before sipping the bottled beer in his hand.

“I didn’t realize I was gossip worthy,” I reply.

“A beautiful woman shows up and you can be sure the women are talking smack, and the men around here are eager to check you out.”

“Is that so?” I chuckle, slightly humored by his bluntness. A smile sneaks across his face, and I can’t help smiling, too. Although I find him attractive, I wouldn’t say I’m attracted to him. I can admit, however—sad and pathetic as I am for feeling it—I like that he’s flirting with me. Sometimes it’s the little things. Sometimes a woman just needs a man to give her attention so she knows she’s attention worthy.

“You’re serving over at Ike and George’s, right?”

“Wow. I guess everyone does have the 4–1-1 on me, huh?”

“Small town, small minds. What else is there to do around here?” he asks.

“Apparently, dancing is an option.” That feeling of warmth spreads across my back, and I get the sense someone is watching me. Darting my eyes to the bar, I see George watching my interaction with the man before me. His mouth is set in a hard, flat line and he’s almost glaring. Misty follows his line of sight and her brows touch her hairline when she realizes he’s looking at me.

“Well then,” the stranger stands, chugging the last few sips of his beer and setting the bottle down. “May I have this dance?”

My gaze moves from George to the handsome man before me. Chugging a few sips of my own beer—liquid courage in a bottle—I take his hand and let him lead me onto the dance floor. We pass by Sniper and Anna on the way and they stop to watch us before glancing at one another. Another upbeat song starts playing and without discussion, my dance partner and I fall into a two-step and we’re nailing it. He’s a great dancer, and I’m laughing the entire time, not remembering the last time I danced like this; so carefree.

When the song ends, a slow one comes on and he pulls me to him, taking my arms and draping them over his shoulders, putting his hands at my waist, his fingers applying gentle pressure. This is a little more intimate than I’d like, but I don’t want to offend him so I try to make conversation, but he starts to speak first.

“You got something going on with George McDermott?” My expression must indicate I’m floored by his question because he quickly adds, “He’s been watching you since you arrived.” Has he? That’s news to me and obviously this guy is mistaking glaring at me for watching me in appreciation.

“We work together, that’s all,” I respond, unsure of why George is even bothering to stare at me at all. “You’re a pretty good dancer,” I tell him, trying desperately to change the subject.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Char,” he replies, and I’m stunned he knows my name until I remember that apparently I’m the town gossip.

“You know my name. Do I get to know yours?”

“Roger,” a voice interrupts, and I nearly choke. It’s Misty, and she’s attempting the daunting task of trying to shoot fire from her eyes at me and obliterate me to nothing but ashes. This bitch has some nerve acting like she’s jealous when she’s cheating on Roger with George. And then the thought hits me; this is Roger; her drug-dealing boyfriend she’s cheating on with George. I’ve been dancing with a drug dealer.

“May I cut in?” George asks from behind me. And as Misty glares at me, Roger eyes George with a look that says, I know; at least, that’s what it looks like to me.

“Um . . . sure,” I say, completely thrown by the last few seconds. “Do you mind, Roger?”

“No. Not at all.” Taking my hand, he kisses it and Misty’s eyes are as big as saucers. “Lovely to meet you, Char. I’ll see you around.” With that, he saunters off the dance floor, Misty scurrying behind him in a huff.

Looking back to George, he steps toward me, but waits for me to meet him halfway. His gaze is almost blank, as if he’s just going through the motions and he doesn’t really want to dance with me. “I’ll spare you the grief, boss. I know you two were just trying to break it up. I didn’t know that was Roger, okay? I wouldn’t have said anything about you two even if I had known. And now they’re gone so you don’t have to torture yourself and dance with me.” As I step around him, he takes my wrist and pulls me back, slamming my body against his. God, he smells really f*cking good.

“I asked you to dance because like every other guy here, I want to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room.” My mouth falls open with shock.

“Was that a compliment?” I ask sarcastically. “I’m waiting for the punch line.”

“Do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?” he questions, earning a lethal glare from me.

“Forgive me, but you’re the one giving me whiplash with your hot and cold mood swings,” I pipe back. “The other day I was a girl you wouldn’t waste a minute on because of my issues. Now I’m the most beautiful girl in the room.” The band starts playing I Believe in Love by Don Williams when George snakes one arm around me, resting a firm hand on the small of my back. His other hand finds mine and holds it to his chest. My traitorous body simply, and stupidly, falls into rhythm with him as he begins to sway.