Page 2 of Flirty Dancing

“I do not,” he said, even though they both knew all of those things were absolutely true.

Lynn didn’t dignify it with a response. “Let’s go. We’remeeting Sasha at The Fiddler in thirty and she hates it when I’m late.”

He tossed the pillow aside. “You’re only ever late because of me.”

Lynn sighed. “I know, boo. I mean she hates it whenyou’relate. Now get changed!”

Ten minutes later, Archer followed Lynn out onto the sidewalk. The bar was only a few blocks away and she had decided a speed walk would be faster than a cab. He had gone with jeans and a fuchsia button-down. It was a great color on him against his golden skin and dark blond hair, which he kept shorter than he would strictly like, not wanting to look anywhere near scruffy at auditions. He had left two buttons undone until Lynn had added a third with a wink. “You gotta sell the goods, Arch.”

The bar, dark and well-worn, walls lovingly plastered with queer Broadway paraphernalia, was already packed when they arrived, on time and everything. The music was so loud he couldn’t quite make out Sasha’s shouted greeting before Lynn cut it off with a kiss.

“Happy birthday!” he yelled at Sasha, adding a peck on her cheek. “How dare you look hotter than me?” She was already glowing with sweat and a bit drunk, short blond hair sticking to her forehead.

“Thanks for letting Lynn drag you out,” she yelled back, her eyes a little too wide and lingering on him a little too long. Great, so she knew he was a pathetic loser, too. He threw Lynn some side-eye. She shrugged, handed Archer her handbag, and pulled Sasha back out onto the dance floor.

Archer sat at the table Sasha had pointed to and noddedat a few of her and Lynn’s lawyer friends. That was another thing. He’d been in New York for five months and had zero friends of his own. Thank God Lynn took pity on him.

He ordered the cheapest beer they had from a passing server and eyed the dance floor, wondering if maybe he could relax enough to actually try and hook up tonight. It seemed unlikely because, so far, he’d only managed it once, and the guy—part of the lighting crew on an experimental nudistHamlet—left right after, mumbling something about an early call time, then ghosted him entirely.

Not like he wasn’t used to rejection in New York. No doubt the audition tomorrow would result in more of the same. He nursed his beer, talking himself even deeper into a pit of despair, until there came a tap on his shoulder. Archer turned and was startled by the beauty of the man looking at him. He smiled on instinct, even though he was sure this guy had made a mistake.

“Hey,” the man said, sliding onto the stool next to Archer. “I’m Lachlan.” Lachlan had light brown hair styled into an achingly perfect tousle, thick eyelashes, and, quite frankly, a killer body, from the very quick and discreet glance Archer took.

“Archer.” They shook hands, Lachlan holding on a second longer than necessary. “Nice to meet you.” He waited for Lachlan to realize his error and make an awkward excuse as he slipped right back off that stool.

“Who you here with, Archer?” he asked instead, eyes narrowing as he smiled.

Archer liked the way his name purred off Lachlan’s tongue. “Just my roommate and her girlfriend,” he said, nodding at them on the dance floor.

“Hmm.” Lachlan leaned forward and Archer caught awhiff of his cologne—something spicy that sent his stomach swirling. “So, you’re all alone, then?” The curl of his lips suggested this was a good thing.

“I guess,” Archer replied, then cringed.God, I’m terrible at flirting. Say something flirty.“Less alone now.”

He must have said the right thing because he got a heated look in return. “And what do you do, Archer?” Lachlan’s eyes slid up and down Archer’s frame.

“I’m a dancer.” Still sounded ridiculous to say out loud, butaccountantwas worse.

His eyebrows jerked up. “Oh, yeah? Broadway?”

That was always the first thing everyone asked. “Not yet.”

“Off, then? Anything I might have seen you in?”

And the second thing. “Not unless you caughtGuys and Dollsat the Beavercreek Community Theatre in Dayton five years ago.”

Lachlan bunched his brow. “Uh…”

“I mean, I just moved from Ohio and I’m, um, still looking to, you know, break my way in.”

Lachlan took him in again, only this time his gaze was analytical. “Aren’t you a little old to be ‘chasing your dreams’?” He gave a derisive chuckle but read the clench in Archer’s jaw. “Don’t get me wrong! You’re crazy hot, but how old are you? Twenty-six, twenty-seven?”

Archer cleared his throat. “Twenty-seven.” For another month anyway.

Lachlan grimaced. “No offense, but, like, you showed up here, have zero connections, and you’re almost thirty. What did you think was going to happen?”

The cheap beer gurgled up Archer’s throat, fighting with the welling disappointment and leaving no room for words.

“Anyway.” Lachlan laughed, although nothing was funny. “Bet you could make a killing if you started stripping.”

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