Page 172 of Remy

His lips twitch, his unreadable expression quickly filling with deviousness.

“Don’t do it,” I whisper.

Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

He pushes to his feet, towering above me with smug superiority as he holds out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Bastard.

Lucy squeaks with joy.

I don’t move. I can’t. My legs are lead weights while my stomach twists in knots.

“Are you going to turn me down, Ollie?” Remy’s slight curve of lips transforms into a full-blown, panty-melting grin.

“Of course she won’t.” My dad tugs at my wrist. “She wants nothing more than to make her father happy.”

I groan. “Talk about emotional blackmail.” I grab the starched white napkin from my lap and dump it on the table. “It’s not a vibe, Dad.”

He snickers. Lucy giggles.

It’s a ripe ol’ comedy fest, but I’m not laughing because as soon as I slide my fingers over Remy’s calloused palm I struggle to do anything other than hide my increased need for oxygen.

He guides me to my feet and leads me past empty tables as the musician glances up from her violin, playing one final note of her song before stopping, the result filling the room with awkward silence.

I slow my pace. “I think she wants to have a break.”

“She’s waiting for us to take our place,” Remy corrects.

I wince, the expression lasting the briefest second as he drags me into the open space beside the bar then turns to face me.

I stiffen as our eyes meet—all dreamy confidence versus pained hesitation.

He tugs me forward, guiding me against him, my hands instinctively raising to palm his chest for stability.

It’s too much. Too close.

I lower my gaze, pretending to focus on foot placement while butterflies launch an internal assault against me. The sweet melodic notes of a new song begin to play as Remy palms my hip and entwines our right hands. Then we’re swaying, barely dancing, his pulse beating beneath my fingers.

“Your dad is playing matchmaker,” he murmurs under his breath.

I’d already assumed as much, but the confirmation is unsettling.

“He gave me the talk this afternoon,” he adds.

I pull back to look at him. “The talk?”

“He asked about my intentions.”

Dear fucking Lord.

“What did you say?” I choke out.

“I admitted I’m attracted to you, but apparently that’s already common knowledge.”

My butterflies morph into vultures. “I hope you explained that I’m a pitifully inept virgin that you gave a hard pass. I’m sure he would’ve offered his sincerest condolences.”

Without warning I’m dragged backward into an extravagant dip. I gasp in mortification as Lucy gasps in excitement across the other side of the room.

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