In Your Wildest Dreams (Wildcat Hockey, #4)(46)

“You’re as bad of a dancer as you are a drink maker,” I say.

Does that deter him? Absolutely not. He lifts our joined hands and makes me do a twirl. Then he does one of those moves where he brings me in close with an arm wrapped around me and then uncoils and stretches to send me spinning out with our arms outstretched.

“That is not how we were dancing.”

“No?” His stare holds on my mouth and then he steps back and sweeps a hand in front of him. “Show me how it’s done then.”

I hesitate, but backing down feels like admitting that I care what he thinks of me.

I move just a little at first. Hips swaying, arms flowing at my sides. Ash falls into step with me, closing some of the distance between us as he dances in front of me.

He doesn’t touch me, but he’s so close that I can feel him all around me. Ash is a good dancer when he’s not trying to get a laugh, which I guess shouldn’t come as any surprise. He doesn’t break out any amazing skills; he’s just intuitive and playful. He makes funny faces like he’s really into it, nodding his head as he sings along with the chorus. Even acting silly, though, he never takes his eyes off me.

The song ends and we both come to a stop. Tipping my head back, I glance up at him. The next song has a slower beat. I’m about to step back and suggest we go back upstairs when he holds his hand out to me. “One more song?”

I place my hand in his and he tugs me closer. My chest brushes up against his and then long fingers caress my hip, sending a shot of warmth zipping through me. The three of us shooed away any guys who tried to get all up on us at the club. Despite our joking about it, tonight wasn’t about dancing with cute boys. But if Ash had been there, maybe it would have been.

There’s something about him that puts me at ease and makes my heart feel like it’s going to explode all at once.

Every brush of contact makes me dizzy and warm. My pulse races. If he can hear how fast my heart is beating, he doesn’t comment on it. I should stop this. There are so many reasons why it’s a terrible idea, but I’m tired of pushing people away. Everything in me craves more of this—more fun, more connection, more heart flutters.

“We didn’t dance like this,” I say, a little breathless. Do not fall for this man. Do not fall for this man.

“No?”

I shake my head.

“Their loss.”





18





OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM


ASH





The sound of feet coming down the stairs barely registers, but Bridget can’t get away from me fast enough when she glances up to see Everly and Grace at the bottom of the stairs looking at us.

“What do you think of your dance floor?” I ask Everly, pushing the last few minutes dancing with Bridget out of my mind for the moment and smoothing over the awkwardness that she’s obviously feeling. I don’t know why. We were just dancing, but the why isn’t important. I don’t ever want to be responsible for making her feel anything but good.

“This is incredible.” Everly walks out to join us. Grace is right behind her with three shot glasses in her hand. She gives one to Bridget, then Everly.

“What is it?” Bridget asks.

“Tequila.”

She scrunches up her face.

“If it’s the stuff Jack brought then don’t worry. It’s good tequila.”

“Good and tequila don’t belong in the same sentence.”

I lean over and whisper, “Can’t be worse than the concoction I made.”

“True,” she says with a little laugh.

“You’re not going to give me a lecture about underage drinking?” Everly asks as she brings the shot to her lips.

“Would it do any good?”

Her smile widens. “No.”

“To Everly. Happy birthday!” Grace lifts her glass.

“Happy birthday!” Bridget reluctantly pushes hers into the air.

Ev clinks her shot glass against the other two girls’ and then all three of them toss back the tequila.

Bridget only drinks about half of hers, grimacing as she holds the glass away from her. I take it from her and swallow the rest.

She watches me like she’s waiting for me to make a face. “I don’t know how you took that so easily.”

“Lots of practice,” I say as Grace and Everly start dancing together. Bridget sticks by me.

“What’s your favorite kind of shot?” I ask her.

“I don’t know…a lemon drop.”

“So sweet drinks?”

“Only in shots. I don’t like super sweet cocktails. You?”

“Tequila?”

She laughs. “Figures.”

“I don’t have a go-to shot, I guess. I usually stick to beer, sometimes whiskey, sometimes wine. Basically, whatever is available.”

“So, you’re easy?”

Her teasing me is so unexpected that my brows shoot up in surprise. That just makes her smile widen. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

The dress she’s wearing hugs her curves and shows off long legs and toned arms. And that hair. I’m a total goner for her hair. All those blonde curls framing her face and hanging down her back.

“Ash?” she asks, snapping me out of a haze I didn’t realize I was in. She laughs again.