Page 43 of The Roommate Remodel

She gives me a side eye. “Says the man who wants to single-handedly turn this team around, while also fixing up my house.”

“That’s because I like to win,” I say. “In more ways than one.” I’m staying in time with the other dancers this time, and it finally feels good to cut loose.

“So do I. But you won’t beat me tonight.” Then she gives me a smile as hot as the Death by a Thousand Wings Sauce. I’ve totally forgotten Leo’s taunts. Or even what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m totally caught off guard bythat grin.

For the next hour we move across the floor, laughing at our missteps, bumping into each other, and very rarely nailing the routine.

Just when I think I’ve got the steps down, I step on her right foot, and she stumbles and falls into me. My hands grab for her waist, steadying her body, as our eyes catch. My palms fall along the curve of her waist, reminding me of the first time I danced with her. Touching her is like stumbling over a live wire.

As the crowd continues in perpetual motion, we’re frozen in this moment, and I don’t want to let go. My eyes drop to her mouth, and I remember what it’s like to kiss her, how warm and soft her lips were against mine. In the background, a country singer croons about hopelessly falling in love. And I don’t want to take my eyes off her.

That’s when a body smacks into mine, knocking me into her.

Leo gives me his usual stupid smirk. “Oops. Did I hit you?”

I drop my hands and step back, quickly ending the moment.

Jaz’s eyes flit around the room. “I need a drink.” She hurries toward her abandoned boot mug and chugs her refill down like a woman dying in a desert.

Right now, my heart is bucking in my chest because that look between us took me right back to how things were before.

But since we’re roomies now, the playing field has changed. What are we doing, pretending like we could be something again?

She returns to the dance floor, avoiding my gaze.

“Done yet?” I ask.

“And let you win? No way.” Her mouth curves into a smile as she brushes past me. She has that look on her face—the determined one that says she won’t back down. I’m tempted to kiss that look right off her pretty little mouth.

The song changes abruptly, switching to a ballad with a crying guitar and a deep bass voice crooning about lost love.

A few people wander off for a break as the rest pair up for slow dance heaven.

I freeze, suddenly unsure what to do.

She glances back at our table, like she’s weighing her options. Slow dance with me. Or lose the dare.

Jaz’s gaze lands on me with a question in her eyes.Is this a bad idea?

“I thought you said you’re playing to win?” I say, trying to keep things light.

“Are you?” She tilts her head and studies me, like it’s more than just a question of whether I’ll dance with her.

I lift an eyebrow. “What do you think, Princess?”

I hold out my hand. It’s an invitation. A take-it-or-leave-it offer.

Dance with me.

She hesitates before slipping her palm into mine. When she slides her body close, all the old feelings come back. The way she feels in my arms. Her incredible scent. How everything about this woman feels right.

We’re inches apart now, our bodies nearly touching, but I still keep some space between us.

I want it to be her choice. Her move. After what I did to her, I’m not sure she’ll ever accept me back. I’m no Prince Charming. I play the roughest sport around, one that encourages fighting to win.

What kind of man would I be to her?

I know I’d try to be the man she deserves.

---