Page 19 of Knot what I want for Christmas
“Mandatory fun.”
“Not familiar with that kind of fun.”
She makes a face. “Mandatory team-bonding or tedious family-gatherings.”
“So nothing pre-determined or obligatory?” She nods. “I’ve taken note.”
I reach for her hand and lead her off the dance floor, but we stand close by, watching the next dance.
“Oh,” she says, “the steps aren’t that different.”
“No,” I say. “Once you know the basics, you can pretty much do them all.”
She tips back her head and looks up at me. “You dance really well.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Not many men I’ve met are willing to dance, let alone are any good at it.”
“In a town like this,” I tell her, “if you wanted to get a girl, you had to learn to dance.”
She raises an eyebrow. “I find it hard to believe you needed to learn to dance to get a girl.”
“Oh yeah,” I say grinning, pretty pleased with that compliment.
“I mean,” she waves her hand in my direction, “you have the whole cowboy thing going on.”
“Every dude round here has the cowboy thing going on,” I admit. Although I don’t admit that me and my packmates do it best – I don’t want to come across as an arrogant asshole. Not when I like the girl. Not when the girl apparently has a problem with alphas.
“You’re from here then?” she asks me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Grew up in this town too. Me and Clay have been best friends since kindergarten.”
Her face softens, and I take it she thinks that’s sweet. I don’t mind. I’m happy to gain all the kudos points I can.
I’m about to do some more sweet talking, crack open the classics, when Annie comes pushing through the crowd. She grabs Hollie’s hand from mine.
“There you are!” she squeals. “Come on, Travis is making us cocktails!”
And then she’s pulling her away, and I wonder how soon it’ll be before I can get my hands on that little Omega again.
Chapter Seven
Hollie
Annie has found us a pair of stools by the bar and already has two gigantic cocktails lined up for us with tiny colorful umbrellas and a garnish of fruit.
“You have to try these,” she says. “Travis is really talented. They taste amazing.”
I nod, realizing just how much of a goner my friend is for the barman. She’s always scoffed at pretentious drinks in the past. I take a long suck on my straw.
“Whoa, Annie,” I say. “How much alcohol is in that thing?”
“Tonnes,” Annie says with a grin, sucking on her own straw. “We’re gonna get wasted, Hollie. It’s the start of the holidays, no work for freaking ages, and I haven’t seen you in even longer.”
“Your dad said–“
“My dad always says that. Don’t worry about him.”
