Page 47 of Breaking Emily's Rules
But then he missed a shot I thought he should have easily made and handed me the pool stick. “Your turn. And don’t hurt me with that stick.”
“Then watch yourself.”
I leaned down and began my halfhearted attempt at a shot. Major joke. I hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol to pull this off.
But suddenly Stone’s hard body was behind me, adjusting my shot. Oh my, I liked his assistance very much. It was by far the best part of the game. He leaned in close over my shoulder, one arm on my waist adjusting my stance and the other aligning the direction of the shot.
“Don’t shoot until I move. I might want to have children one day.” Stone whispered in my ear.
I laughed, waited and took the shot. Made it. Didn’t even maim him in the process.
A few more shots and we were nearly tied. Not that I could have made any of the shots without him, which was strange. Maybe he didn’t care about that second date after all. I tried not to think of that as I enjoyed the feel of his body against mine every time he lined up my shot. We weren’t feeling like buddies anymore.
I took another shot and was suddenly ahead, but when it was his turn, he caught up handily and tied the game. “We could call it, or we can keep going.”
“I say neither one of us wins.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll dance with you.”
This I did not expect. “You will? Right here?”
“But to my song choice. It’s only fair. You get what you want, but I get to pick the song. Compromise.”
“Whatever.”
So I wouldn’t be dancing the two-step tonight. He’d probably play some kind of hard rock song, something neither one of us could dance to. I followed him to the jukebox, where I stood on tiptoes and tried to look over his shoulder.
“No peeking.”
“You know, country music is sexy.”
He grunted. “Yeah, right. I’ll show you sexy.”
I waited for the pulsing guitar riffs but instead, a familiar song wafted through the speakers. Not country, not at all.
“Let’s Get it On,” by Marvin Gaye.
The man had nerve, I’d give him that. Yep, nerves of steel, and I was Play-Doh.
Yet it was impossible to resist when he grinned and spread his arms apart, an invitation. “Let’s dance, baby.”
I went into his arms, the new familiarity between us making it a whole lot easier than the first time we’d slow danced when I was caught somewhere between shock and arousal.
“Tell me why you like country music.” Stone grinned, and something pinged deep in my belly. Did he realize what that smile did to women? What it did to me?
“It tells a story, and I love stories.”
“Even sad ones, when a man loses his dog and his woman the same day?”
I smacked his shoulder. “If you must know, I had a short-lived country music career.”
“No kidding.”
“But it didn’t work out because I have terrible stage fright. So I tried to write a book instead.”
“Didn’t work out?” He sounded genuinely interested, and I wasn’t quite used to that.
“Well, no. But maybe I wasn’t meant to be a writer. I’m a people person. So then I went into real estate.”
