Page 27 of The Amazing Date

Adam follows Laredo toward the stage, a quick nod to the soloist. The man jerks his neck, his shoulder-length, untamed hair whipping from in front of his face. Three Pete Townshend windmills later, he wraps to a smattering of applause.

Slim’s is an unpretentious rock club. There is no MC on duty. The soloist bows and walks off the stage while Laredo makes his way around the drum set and bangs out a rim shot. He winks in the direction of a table of six thirty-something-aged women who look as if they came directly to the club from work.

Adam rolls his eyes and hooks the strap to his guitar and adjusts the microphone.

Ronnie and Thelma appear out of nowhere and take the boys’ seats at the table. “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you guys here.” The word vomit escapes my lips before my filter can stop it. The words sounded as disrespectful in the open as they did in my head.

If they are offended, they don’t react. Thelma taps the top of the table. “Is that because it’s past our bedtime or because we aren’t the demographic for rock and roll? Don’t you know blacks invented rock?”

She floats me a wink and a no harm, no foul smile. Ronnie leans in and places a kiss on her cheek. He’s the picture of happiness. “If they are half as good as they look on that stage, I know we’re all going to get up and dance, right?”

“Right there with you,” Roberto cosigns before I can react.

It only takes two chords for us to know the pair of brothers are talented. “Good evening, San Francisco. We are two-thirds of Bluer Collar. We are far from our home in Indiana and without our lead singer, but we’ll do our best. Here’s a little ditty we feel is appropriate for tonight.” Adam’s face lights up with joy, his quiet offstage demeanor evaporating right in front of us. He shoots a glance over his shoulder, and Laredo leans into the microphone, hovering over his drum set.

“This song is called ‘Even When We Lose, We Are Winners.’ This one goes out to two blonde friends of ours, who couldn’t make it tonight.”

Ronnie pulls his wife to the dance floor, and I feel Roberto’s hand in mine, mirroring the old married couple. I try not to read into his actions. “Time to let loose,” he shouts over the music.

My feet ignore the warning bells in my head. Both Roberto and I may love the dance floor, but it almost always leads to places we shouldn’t go. I decide to keep my distance and simplify my moves. Maybe that will keep the heat that always erupts between us on the dance floor from making an appearance.

I give Roberto my back, swaying to the music, mesmerized by the sound of the boys. They are incredible. Adam on lead sounds like a young Bruce Springsteen while Laredo’s joy of playing has transformed the club into an intimate basement house party.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to see a beaming Brooke dancing next to us. They’re freaking good, right? she mouths, not wanting to speak and disturb the magical spell the duo has cast.

The song is perfect. The beer hits my system, and I feel my body relaxing. I close my eyes and sway my hips like I’m alone in my bedroom. I unhook the scrunchie that holds my hair in a ponytail to let it fly free. We’re in a city far from home, I’m wearing cut-off denim shorts and a cotton tank top, out late, drinking, dancing, and dare I say having a good time.

Lost in music, I fall. I always do. I rock side to side and lean my shoulders back against the rock-hard chest of Roberto. His warm lips brush against my right ear. “That’s what I like to see.”

“Why are you surprised? You’ve seen me dance before.” I scoff at his reaction. Gabby and I have had many a danceathon in his grandmother’s house. He’s the one who polished my salsa skills. And neither of us will ever forget the piers in Guánica.

His strong hands land on my hips. It’s like a switch being flipped, my body welcoming him back. It reacts on its own, knees bending, hips pushed against him. His hand rises off my hip, and he presses his core to my rear. We’re no longer on a basement dance floor in San Francisco but back in our protective bubble in the fort where we were untouchable.

I close my eyes and get lost in the moment. Get lost in the music. Get lost in the man.

I feel his warm breath on my neck again. “I thought you had retired these moves years ago when you crossed fun off your list of things to do.”

I spin, giving him no time to adjust. My quick glance down to his waist lets him know I’m aware of his reaction. “And how would you know what I do for fun? You live three thousand miles from me.” I gingerly place a finger on his shoulder. I perform a sexy strut, shoulders back, chest out, high on my tiptoes, exaggerated hips side to side. It’s not quite stripper-level professional, but it does the job.

Roberto’s eyes close but not before I capture a glimpse of the fire behind them. He is a man who prides himself on control, yet when he’s around me, he loses it. Add music to the mixture, and he’s a goner. A soft, near-silent exhale escapes, the heated breath warming my heart more than it does my skin.

I take the victory. With a smirk on my face, images of another dance flash through my mind.

Hands on my hips, groin to my ass, a move not permitted in front of kids, Roberto grinds into me from behind as if I’m the air he needs to survive. His need to devour me is stronger than his need to protect the cool, unbothered, overprotective guardian image he likes to project.

“You keep moving like this and I may have no other choice but to….” he growls with desire, and I know I’ve finally broken him. I’m no longer his younger sister’s friend; I am the woman he can no longer resist.

“There are no choices here, Roberto. Just do it.”

A loud crowd whistle followed by cheers snaps me back. Roberto’s hand on the small of my back can’t stop the wave of tingles racing through my body. Laredo stands behind the drum set and tosses a drumstick souvenir toward the table of women.

“Shall we grab a seat? That is if you can sit.” I snicker at him, shooting a quick glance down at his pants. He tugs on the end of his T-shirt and follows closely behind me. I slow my walk, twisting on the tips of my toes, knowing even in his condition with a room full of people possibly watching, he’d not be able to look away.

I’ve never felt sexier. I’ve never felt so free. I’ve never felt so empowered. I pull out the chair and sit with a sexy smirk on my face and warmth in my chest.

When he trips approaching the table, I can’t help myself. I burst into laughter, the sound louder than the next song starting up from the stage. Heads turn in my direction, and I don’t care. Roberto lands in the chair next to me, and I immediately lean over and plant a kiss on his cheek. “I’m so glad you forced me to come out. I needed this.”

His hand lands on my exposed thigh once again. “We. We needed this—we’re a team. Team bonding and chemistry is an important element. We’re not that different than the twins.”

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