Page 11 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
“I’m going to warn you, I’m not trying to be coy,” I say as I give him my hand. “I’m really not much of a dancer.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Grayson leads me to the dance floor of the bar, which is packed with people who are all dressed as festively as the bar is decorated. It’s a good excuse for Grayson to pull me closer, both of our hands now linked as we start feeling the beat of the music.
He wasn’t lying. He is good. His hips are subtly moving to every beat perfectly—the slight bounce of his shoulders, the way he leads me with his hands without being forceful, all while staying on perfect beat.
It’s fucking sexy.
“So we have this forte,” I say. “What are some others I need to be aware about?”
“Well,” he says as he changes his hand position, bringing our joined ones to the small of my back so he can bring me in closer. To some the move might feel a little bold, but not to me. I fucking love it. “I also have my career. Baseball. And, my hidden talent, that very few people know about, is that I can play the piano. Pretty well, actually.”
I wasn’t expecting that one. “Really? How long?”
“Since I was a kid,” he says. “My mother was insistent that we all did something in the fine arts, at least until we were in high school. My sister danced. My older brother took up art. And me? Piano, for some reason, called my name. My grandparents had one, and I loved plonking away on it. I quit taking lessons and seriously playing in high school, but if I saw one today, I’m sure I could whip a little something up.”
“When I see videos of piano players playing something classical, then it switches to a rap song, I’m always amazed.”
This makes him smile. “Funny you say that, because that specific kind of music, that’s also my forte.”
We share a smile in the silence, but it’s not awkward. Not at all. Yes, there are a million more questions we could ask each other. But as the song changes from the fast and upbeat song we were just dancing along with to a slower, more sensual song, neither of us feel the need to fill in the silence. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck as he pulls me in tighter, both of us just feeling the beat of the music between us.
This is not how I expected this night to go. If I would’ve put a prediction on my evening, I’d have put all my money in on by this time I’d already be home. That I would’ve made a beeline for the exit the second trivia was over, picked up some Taco Bell on the way home—because Taco Bell is elite and I’ll hear no arguments against it—and I’d be sitting in front of the television, watching the latest episode of reality trash television that’s my dirty little secret while enjoying a Baja Blast.
But here I am. I let Kat take over for just a little bit tonight, and I’m now dancing with a handsome man who’s making me think and feel things I was beginning to believe I left in Los Angeles.
The music comes to a stop, but neither of us pull away. The DJ announces that it’s last call at the bar, which makes my stomach sink. I’m not ready for this night to end. Not yet.
“Want to go one more place?” I ask.
His smile is instant. “What do you have in mind?”
“Hot dogs?”
I look over my shoulder to Grayson, who’s just looking at me with a smirk. “Yes hot dogs. I’m hungry, and they’re right here.”
We step up in line and each order two—mine with ketchup and relish, his with mustard and sauerkraut.
“You know, for our first dinner together, I thought it would be somewhere fancier. Cloth napkins. Good bourbon. You in a dress that would drive me crazy.”
I smile as we step aside to wait for our order. “That can happen. Just this first.”
He casually reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together as we talk about more of nothing as we wait for our order. Onceour food is secured, we head down to the river, finding benches that overlook the Cumberland. It’s the perfect spot to end a perfect night.
“Okay, I know I was teasing earlier, but this is absolutely hitting the spot,” he says as he takes a big bite out of his dog. “These get a lot of hate, but I love a good hot dog.”
“For sure,” I say as I also take a bite of mine. “Plus, it’s the perfect gateway for the best ice breaker debate of all time.”
His face turns into pure excitement. “Are you talking about the age-old debate if a hot dog is a sandwich?”
“I am,” I say. “Now, be very careful with your answer. I’d hate for you to lose points at this critical stage of the night.”
“No need to be careful, because I’m right,” he says. “It’s a sandwich, in the sense that it’s in the sandwich family. There’s meat and bread. However, it’s like a dolphin being a mammal. Technically it is, but is that what you really think of when you say ‘name a mammal?’ No, therefore the answer is yes, but with a disclaimer.”
I feel my mouth dropping. I didn’t know there could be a perfect answer to that question, but there it is. And not only is it perfectly worded, it’s exactly what I think.
This man is too good to be true. He’s so good that even the Katherine portion of my brain is starting to loosen the grip on her panties. And that never happens.
