Page 9 of Love Unavoidable
“That’s a long time, Grace.”
She looks at me, forehead furrowed. “Grace? My name is Sadie.”
“I know, I’m saying Grace, like Grace Kelly. The dancer in the old movies with Fred Astaire.”
“You mean, Ginger Rogers?” She laughs.
“Shit, do I? Now I’m embarrassed. Here I was trying to impress you.” I feel my face redden. Something that never happens.
Ever.
“Why don’t you stick to trying to impress me with your dance skills,” she challenges. I coax her into a little spin to show off my moves. Her dress flows out around her, giving me the smallest glimpse of her thighs. Tan and toned.
Nice.
I give her arm a tug and she turns into me gracefully, aligning her body with mine. She looks up at me, a wide grin on her face.
“Well, you’re no Fred Astaire, but you haven’t stepped on my toes yet.” She smiles to show she is teasing.
“Ouch, you wound me, Grace,” I say.
“Do I need to kiss it and make it better?” She looks up me from under her lashes, a smirk on her face.
“Well, you are your grandmother’s granddaughter, aren’t you? Sassy is as sassy does.”
She throws her head back and laughs. The bottom of her hair tickles my hand on her back. It’s soft and swishy.
Swishy, Ethan? Really? What the fuck is going on with you tonight?
I laugh with her and a little at my thoughts. She brings her head back up and looks at me, eyes dancing, cheeks glowing.
“You’re stunning,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Aw, I’ll bet you say that to all the girls,” she says, batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.
“I . . .” I think about it for a second. “I don’t actually. Not usually a need.”
“A need? To compliment a woman?”
“Yeah. I am fairly sure that makes me sound like a total asshole that I don’t feel the need to compliment women. But yes.”
Her head snaps back to look up at me. “An asshole? Most definitely.”
“Okay, it’s not coming out right.” I try to regroup. Not wanting this woman to think badly of me. “I told you that you are stunning before I could stop myself. Ihadto say it. That rarely happens, where I am so overcome that Ihaveto say something.”
“Okay,” she says, drawing the word out. “Now you sound like a douche.”
“I know.” I am not sure how to fix this. I don’t want her thinking I’m an asshole or a douche.
“Here I thought you would say it’s because women throw themselves at you and you don’t have to put in the effort to attract them.”
“I figured that went without saying. I mean”—I step back and gesture to myself—“Isn’t it obvious? Look at me.” I wink to show I am joking. Sort of.
She laughs, but it’s forced.
“Okay, can we start over?” I ask.
“Eeek!”
