Page 49 of Whirlwind

“You’re very optimistic.”

“It’s one of my many amazing traits,” he gloats. “But look, I may not know everything that’s gone down between you and our girl, but it must be something good if you risked anything in the first place. That’s my two cents.”

He puts his beer down on the counter and smacks me on the shoulder hard enough that I shift on my stool. “I’m going to hit the head. But I suggest you look out on that dance floor and then ask yourself, ‘Tornado Daddy, do you like watching the woman you’re head over heels for being touched by another man?’ then start making your decisions.”

He smacks me again then walks off toward the bathroom, leaving me to look out at the floor. The words he said finally register when my eyes land on Finley. She’s no longer dancing with Hawk; he’s nowhere in sight. In his place is a dark-haired man in a cowboy hat and jeans. She’s smiling politely at him, and my body lights up with a jealous rage that feels like antifreeze rushing through my veins.

I’m off my chair and making my way to the dance floor before I can take my next breath, and soon, my hand is grabbing the back of the man’s T-shirt and pulling him from Finley.

“Hey! We were dancin’,” he grouses.

“I’m cutting in.”

“I was—”

I turn to the green-eyed man and narrow my eyes at him. “Your dance is finished.” He grumbles something that I don’t care to hear, then I turn to face a very confused and not-at-all-amused Finley.

“Really?” she questions, a hand planted on one of her rounded hips.

“Finley, I—”

She turns and starts to walk off the floor, but I gently grab her hand, tugging her into me. Our chests bump, the position reminding me of the one we stood in hours before in the diner bathroom.

“What are you doing, Ryker?”

My hand grips hers, and I look into her eyes, eyes that are simmering with annoyance and confusion, hard emotions that I put there again because apparently, around her, I become a possessive asshole who says and does dick-ish things.

“Dance with me?” The fast-paced song that was playing changes to a slow one as the question slips from my lips.

Finley looks at all the people moving around us then back at me. “Why?”

My chest tightens, and blood whooshes in my ears. I could attempt a lie and say I simply wanted to dance, but that’s not the truth. Joey’s words ring in my ears alongside Hawk’s. I have been a complete and utter dick, and honestly, is a relationship with Finley really that complicated? In a lot of ways, it is, but in some ways, maybe more important ways, it’s not at all.

“Because I want to dance with you,” I finally say. “I’ve been wanting to dance with you all night.”

“And you waited until a stranger asked me to dance to cut in?”

“Finley, I…fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.”

“What? Be nice?”

Okay, I deserved that, too. I squeeze her hand gently, and she stares at it for a moment before looking at me again. I softenmy gaze, using my eyes to convey my apology then backing it up with words.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I keep fucking things up, and I know you don’t owe me anything. But please, one dance.”

A couple two-stepping across the floor bumps into us and mumbles something like “dance or get off the floor.”

Finley flushes with embarrassment and whispers an apology before placing her hand on my shoulder, her other hand still in mine as our bodies press closer together. My entire being lights up at her touch, and every negative thought I’ve had expels from my mind.

“Is that a yes?” I ask, unable to suppress my hope.

“One dance,” she says. “Only one.”

Chapter eighteen

Finley

Ryker tucks me intohis muscular body, the sandalwood and citrus smell of him along with beer and whiskey hitting my nose. The song that plays as we sway is irrelevant, because my heart is pounding so loudly in my ears, it’s all I can hear. I shouldn’t have agreed to dance with him, but when he’s close to me, touching me, it’s hard to think straight—even when I’m annoyed with him.

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