Page 126 of The Fine Line
Mick’s brow dips, but he starts moving again. “What about him?”
I swallow hard. The image of Rhett with that woman pressed against the wall burns behind my eyelids. “Do you see him? Is he looking at us?”
Mick lifts his head, scanning over my shoulder. It only takes a second before his expression shifts—eyes back on mine, slightly wider now. “Uh huh.”
“How does he look?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mick deadpans. “Tall. Tan. A little tousled. Like he wants to skin me alive.”
“Great.”
“Sorry, but why are we trying to infuriate your husband?”
Shit. Right.
Wives don’t usually dance with other men to make their husbands jealous.
I mean, unless…
“It’s one of his kinks?”
Mick shudders. “Jesus, Barrett.”
He starts to pull away, but I tighten my hold.
“I’m kidding. Just… please. A few more seconds.”
“I don’t understand?—”
“Cub.”
Both our heads snap to the side at the sound of Rhett’s voice. He’s standing a few feet away, staring us down like he could incinerate the space between us on sight alone.
“Oh,” I say, forcing a breezy tone as I press a little closer to Mick. “Hi.”
Rhett’s eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”
“I’m dancing. With my friend, Mick.”
“Hey, Sutty,” Mick offers awkwardly.
He starts to pull away, but I slap my hand over his, keeping it glued to my waist.
“The song isn’t over yet,” I tell him.
“You’re right,” Rhett says evenly. “Mind if I cut in, Mick? I’d like to borrow my wife.”
Mick backs off so fast you’d think he’d been electrocuted. “She’s all yours.”
I let out a scoff, shooting him a glare before Rhett steps in to block my view.
He reaches for my hand, but I yank it back.
“Yeah, actually, I’m not an item you can just rent out when you’re interested and put back on the shelf when you’re not.”
Before I can move, Rhett grabs my hand again and pulls me flush against him. I try to twist away, but his grip is iron. He starts dancing like nothing’s wrong, like this isn’t a war, and I have no choice but to follow.
In any other situation, I’d cause a scene.
