Page 21 of Throw Down

“We don’t bite,” said Celia, a woman with leathery skin and a wide, infectious smile.“Well, they don't. Because they're pansies.And I only do it on request.”

“You made it!” Aiden's shout interrupted them.He broke away from the dance floor and came bounding over like a half-grown puppy.A golden retriever, maybe. All sunshine and wagging tail.He reached down on the other side of the bar and helped himself to a couple beer bottles from the open ice chest, shouting, “Dave!Two more on the tab!”

He knocked the caps off on the edge of the bar and handed one to Briar.

“Thanks,” Briar said, taking a cautious sip and then wiping the condensation from his fingers.It wasn’t a brand he’d ever tried before, but the frothy bitterness was surprisingly pleasant.

Conversation flowed around him, mostly over his head, both literally and figuratively.He nodded cluelessly to the talk about livestock and fishing and trips to Pendleton.No one seemed to care that he was a skinny, flamboyant kid who had no idea what they were talking about.He was trying, and that seemed like enough for them.

He was saved from a conversation about fences—seriously, fences?—when Michael Jackson’s Smooth Criminal started up in the juke box.

Aiden grabbed him and began to steer him toward the dance floor.

“C’mon, city boy, let’s see what you can do,” he said cheerfully.

“Whatever I might be able to do, I promise it isn’t this,” Briar blurted, horrified.

The movement of the dancers was so precise it looked choreographed.The men were surprisingly nimble even in their boots and denim, moving better than he'd thought straight guys could move.Everyone seemed like they’d been updated with the same two-steppin’ expansion pack since birth.

“It ain’t hard,” Aiden promised, tugging him into the swiftly moving throng.

“Famous last words,” Briar muttered, and then, when he trampled on a woman’s foot, he cried desperately, “I don’t even know how to dance to this song the normal way!”

But Aiden already had his arm around the curvy part of a woman’s waist.He wasn’t listening.

Briarfloundered, tripping over his own feet like a newborn deer, bumping into people on every side.The line surged with seemingly no warning, slamming him into dancers until his body began to feelbruised.He searched desperately for a way out of theundertow.

That was when he spottedDerek.

Chapter Nine

BRIAR

Derek sat at a two-top in the corner, where the shadows were thickest, watching Briar with laser focus.It was hard to read his expression without the glow of the neon lights, but his harsh features looked foreboding.He was dressed casually, like always, and a battered black Stetson sat at his elbow.

Briar’s face was already red from exertion, but it flamed even hotter under the scrutiny, and he began to sweat.

Had Derek been watching the whole time?He must have seen every misstep, every stumble, every second of Briar proving how ridiculous he was.How he clearly didn't belong.

As if he heard Briar’s unspoken doubts, Derek leaned slightly forward, resting his forearms on the table and curling his fingers around his half-empty glass.A strand of dark hair fell over his forehead.

When their eyes collided, Briar expected to see mockery.But that wasn't what he saw. He couldn't decipher the look in Derek's eyes, but it called to him.He wanted to get a better look, to double check whether they were as green as he remembered.

“I need to talk to someone!” Briar yelled, snatching any excuse to escape before he was trampled.

Aiden didn’t seem to hear, but Briar didn’t stick around to repeat himself.He broke free of the crowd and stumbled off the dance floor, drifting toward Derek like a fish too exhausted to fight the hook.

A strange mix of excitement and trepidation churned within him.He wasn't ready for another round of the intense push and pull he felt around Derek, but he couldn't resist.His stomach began to churn. The din of the tavern faded, swallowed by the rapid thrum of his own heartbeat.

“Hi,” he said lamely, wishing he'd wiped at his sweaty face first.

Derek’s gaze traveled down Briar's body.There was a beat of silence, and then he said blandly, “Nice outfit.”

There was nothing specifically mocking in his tone, but Briar felt like a show animal, appraised and found wanting.

He glanced down at his shimmery blue t-shirt.It was fine, but he was suddenly rethinking the way his designer jeans clung to his thighs like a second skin.Flashy was his whole brand. He didn't know how to be anything else, and he couldn't pretend to be someone he wasn't.

He thrust out one hip and struck a pose just to needle him.

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