Page 60 of When We Were Us
My brows shoot up into my hairline in question. “I thought you had to pee?” I ask as the opening chords of Shania Twain’s “Any Man of Mine” ring out.
Norah and Nat immediately high-five each other and Hank climbs to his feet so they can jump up. Hayley gives a loud ‘whoop!’ before throwing herhand in the air like she’s swinging an imaginary lasso.
“Oh, hell…I’ll pee when I’m dead!” Finn hollers and starts toward the dance floor.
“You coming, Wren?” she says, turning back to me.
“Uh, no. I think I’ll sit this one out,” I tell her above the blast of the music.
“Bullshit! You didn’t get dressed up likethatto sit behind a table all night. Come on!” she tells me with a smile and yanks me in that direction.
We spend the next hour doing exactly what the lead singer said: stompin’ around the dance floor. Just me and the girls. And it feels amazing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
hank
I trackWren’s every move across the dance floor, while absently spinning a bottle cap between my fingers. Hudson is yammering my ear off about some mix-up they had at his bar last week. Something about too much foam.
I hear the words “CO2” and “glycol” and I nod every once in a while, but I’m barely listening. For one, I am not a beer guy. Second, I can’t think of anything but Wren’s long legs in that dress. From her shapely calves, all the way down to her toes, and the nails that are painted a bright pink. She has my complete attention.
An image of her wrapping those gorgeous legs around my waist flashes before my eyes, and I have to reach for a sip of water to ease the dryness in my throat. She’s unclipped her hair from the sides, and under all these neon lights, her cheeks are slightly flushed. She licks her lips, tipping her head back on a laugh as Finn leans in and says something in her ear.
Fuuuck.
Every stomp of her feet and sway of those hips, every time she turns and her hair fans out around her—it all goes straight to my dick. She dances to song after song as she, Finn, and my sisters laugh and belt out song lyrics. She is light on her feet, carefree, and completely at ease. Perfect. Then again, Wrenley has always been perfect to me.
It’s then that I realize Hudson’s gone quiet and is watching me.
“What?” Purposely averting my attention from the dance floor, I stare at Hudson blankly.
“Ask her to dance.” His expression is serious now.
As I look back out to the dance floor, her words from the other day echo in my mind. You’re a good man.
My head and my heart war within me, and I’m even starting to piss myself off. This isn’t like me. I’ve never been insecure. Never doubted myself or been indecisive or questioned my ability to pick up women. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell Hudson to fuck off again, and that she doesn’t want anything to do with me. My lack of response has him screwing his face up in awhat the fuck?expression.
“Hank, what are you, fifteen? You’re not asking her to marry you. It’s one damn dance.”
What is it about this woman that simultaneously turns me on and makes me feel like an anxious kid with sweaty palms?
I’ve only ever been with two other women in my life and neither of them even came close to making me feel what this woman does. And I’ve never even been inside her.
Fact is, I am damn tired of pretending like Wren doesn’t have this effect on me. That’s what pisses me off so much. Because she’s made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t need me. Doesn’t want me. But the way she leaned into me and held on to me like I was the air she needed to breathe…tells me otherwise.
Hudson raises his chin toward the dance floor. “Sandburg sure doesn’t have a problem asking her.”
I follow his gaze as the band plays the opening chords of “Don’t Let Me Let You” by Mitchell Tenpenny, and I see Douche Boots is back, draggingWren up against him. He spins her away, all long hair, legs, and swishing fabric.
A flash of anger ignites in my chest and that’s all the encouragement I need. I’ll be damned if I sit here and watch this again.
I push to my feet and throw back a shot of leftover horrible, cheap tequila. The burn only adds to the fire that's ignited inside me.
My legs eat up the ground as I stalk across the dance floor, with my eyes trained on her back. I vaguely register a surprised Finnley dancing with some guy as I pass her and head straight for the prick that has his hands on my girl.
My girl.I almost roll my eyes. She isn’t mine. But she damn sure isn’t Archie Sandburg’s either.
I clamp a hand on his shoulder as I come up to them. “Take a walk, Sandburg,” I half growl.
