Page 74 of One More Made Up Love Song
He runs a hand through his wavy blond hair. “I don’tknow about that,” he says, vulnerability flashing in his blue eyes. “But thank you anyway.” He looks up, and his gaze narrows. “Hey, who do you think Leo is staring at?”
I look to the couch opposite us to see Leo staring across the room, brow furrowed. I follow his gaze to a cluster of women standing near the entrance and let out a little gasp. “Is that Dolly Parton?”
“Hey,” Jace says, calling to Leo. “Respect the legend, man. Stop staring at Dolly.”
Leo gives his head a little shake. “I’m not staring at her. I’m trying to figure out who’s standing beside her. Why do I feel like I know her? Is she an artist?”
I look back at the group of women. “The blond one?”
Leo nods.
“That’s Claire McKenzie,” I say. “She’s an actress.”
“An actress?” Without another word, Leo stands and strides across the room directly toward the woman.
“Wow,” Jace says. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him look so intense.”
“What did I miss?” Freddie asks, then he looks at me. “Sloane thinks we should dance. She says we have to stop hiding.”
“We think Leo has a crush,” Jace says, and Freddie turns and looks to where Leo is now hovering beside the group of women.
“Don’t we all?” Freddie says. “Dolly is amazing.”
“Not on Dolly,” I say. “On Claire McKenzie. The actress.”
“She was in a movie with Flint, wasn’t she?” Freddie asks. He holds out his hand. “What do you say? Dance with me?”
“We’ll dance too,” Laney says, standing and holding her hand out to Adam. “But not you, Jace. You’ll make the rest of us look bad.”
We all laugh at Laney’s comment, but nobody disputes. Jace was the best dancer in Midnight Rush by far. He really would make the rest of the guys look bad.
He grins. “Your egos are safe. I’m going to step outside so I can say good night to Annie.”
Freddie and I follow Laney and Adam to the dance floor. The music is louder and faster than I would like, and I’m not a particularly skilled dancer, but Freddie keeps his eyes on me, one hand resting gently on my hip, and I do my best to settle into the rhythm of the bass reverberating through my body.
Freddie pulls me closer, moving his mouth to my ear where he says, “You look really great tonight. Did I tell you that? I like your hair up.”
It took some convincing from the stylist Natasha brought along—I really like wearing my curls down—but I have to be grateful now. My hair would be a riotous mess were I dancing like this with it down.
It’s too loud and Freddie is too tall for me to just talk and trust that he’ll hear me, so I reach a hand up, looping it around the back of his neck and pulling him down so I can whisper back, “You aren’t so bad yourself.”
His green eyes dance as we continue to move, our bodies in sync, his smile wide, his focus wholly on me.
The party is packed with people, but the longer we dance, the more it starts to feel like Freddie and I are tuned into a frequency that’s only ours.
He guides my movements with gentle touches, pulling me close, then nudging me back again, eyes on me the whole time. I’ve never danced with Freddie, never had him look at me like this, and the effect is dizzying. I could do this all night. Stand here with him, stare at himall. night. long.
But then Freddie reaches up and tugs on his earlobe, and I’m jolted back into reality. This is what we talked about. The sign he would give me if he thought we should kiss. It’s a painful reminder that we aren’t just here to have fun.
We’re here to sell a story. And if he wants to kiss me, it must be because someone is watching.
My heart starts pounding.
I could shake my head no. Tell him I don’t want to, and I know he’d respect it.
But Idowant to. That’s the trouble. I want it so much I don’t even care that every time I give in, I’m aiming an arrow at my future self. At the woman who’s going to have to get over being this close to something she wanted so badly when it was never truly hers to have.
I lean forward the slightest bit, tilting my head up so Freddie knows I’m game. We made a deal, and I’m willing if he is.
