Page 21 of Down & Dirty

“You got two good feet?” a woman asked as she stepped in between us.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I replied, glancing over the woman’s shoulder in time to see Sky’s face twist with annoyance.

The woman laughed. “Can you dance? That’s all.”

She had to be a solid ten years older than me, but she was pretty. Her long reddish hair was wavy as it snaked over her shoulders, which were left bare by her black leather vest. The V of it dipped so low you didn’t have to wonder what she was packing.

“Ah, gotcha.” I didn’t really want to dance, but it was a small price to pay to get away from Sky and her incessant prodding. “Why don’t you decide if I can or not?”

“That’s what I like to hear.” She took my hand and led me to the tiny, dim dance floor in the back of the bar, a confidence to her grip and stride that had me convinced I was in the hands of a local.

Karla was her name. And she was there that night to celebrate one of her friend’s fiftieth birthdays. She’d grown up in Kansas, but moved out to California with her late husband twenty years ago and never looked back. I learned the names of her three sons and each of her six grandkids. And she even promised to send methe best ginger snap recipe in the country. Not that I knew how to bake.

We danced for a couple of songs. The country rhythms were easy to follow and she seemed to have fun schooling me on some of the finer points of two-stepping. After the second song ended, we said our farewells and I headed for the bar, but I spotted Skylar on the edge of the dance floor. She was leaning against a beam with her arms crossed.

“You stalking me?”

She chuckled dryly. “I had to see for myself.”

I slapped my hand against my chest, my mouth dropping open in mock rebuke. “You doubted me?” She went to turn away, but I caught her arm. “How about I just erase all doubt right now?”

Sky’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to dance?”

The song playing was slower, and I nodded. “Come on, Stone Cold, show me what you’ve got.”

A laugh bubbled out of her, and her eyes crinkled at the edges. It was an expression I’d never seen before. I liked it.

“Stone Cold?”

I slipped my hand inside hers and tugged her onto the floor, a gentle ease seeping into me when I touched her. “Better than Boss?”

With a shake of her head, she let me pull her into my arms and we started to sway. “I hate when you call me that.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re making fun of me,” she snapped like it was obvious.

I jerked back. “I absolutely am not.” Her frown told me she wasn’t buying it. “When I call you Boss, it’s just a...a term of endearment.”

“Right. ‘Cause we’re so endeared to each other. “

I spun her, taking advantage of the moment to feel the softness of her hand tucked inside mine. Warm and small against myrough callouses. When I pulled her back into my grasp, I looked down into her eyes.

“Maybe I just respect you, Sky.”

It hit me as I said it that I did. I might not have liked her or her attitude when we met, but she was a hard ass because she needed to be. And in a room with a bunch of men— most of whom likely did not respect her at allandshe knew it—she handled herself with a kind of strength that was hard not to admire. I didn’t appreciate being the focus of so much of her disdain, but even that didn’t change how tough I thought she was.

“I wish I could say the same, hotshot.”

“Ouch,” I replied, feigning hurt. Or mostly feigning it.

“Please. The only opinions you care about are your fans’ and your endorsements’.”

The song was ending and Sky stepped back out of my hold. My fingers slid slowly off her hip, the feel of her lingering after I let go. She was back to glaring at me, but with the tequila running through her blood, the look lost most of its punch.

“Not true,” I said as we wove our way back to our spot at the bar. “I care very much what my team thinks.”

“Team management,” she shot back, pressing her lips into a hard line.

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