Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 620(@200wpm)___ 496(@250wpm)___ 413(@300wpm)
“It’s ballroom-dancing night—well, afternoon because they have dinner at four thirty and are in bed by seven thirty. I set it up for Flip because it’s good for his image.”
“He’s been better lately, though, hasn’t he?”
“Yeah. Definitely, but trade talks have started, and he gets antsy.”
“They’re not thinking about trading Flip, are they?” Worry laces his tone.
I wave a hand. “No. Of course not. I just want to keep him on an even keel for as long as I can.” Anything could happen, so he needs to be on his best behavior.
His shoulders relax. “Okay. That’s good. This year’s draft was full of surprises.”
“Agreed.” There have been some interesting picks this year. Not to mention Quinn Romero, who was drafted years ago, but has never been on a pro team, just signed his first contract. It was a shock to everyone. Romero included. “Anyway, Hollis is tagging along, but I’m ninety-nine-percent sure it’s an excuse to spend time with Hammer.”
Dallas sets the flowers on my conference table, then moves closer and props his hip against the edge of my desk. He sets the takeout bag beside me and crosses his arms. I try not to notice how fantastic his forearms look. Or consider the memory of how good it looked when his hand was between my thighs and his fingers were filling me. I’m not super successful. So I focus on my computer screen instead of him and pull up my email.
“Can I tag along, too?”
I side-eye him. “Why?”
“A few years ago, when the date auction became a thing…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I, uh…I wanted to be able to get on the dance floor and not look like an idiot, so I took some classes.”
“Huh.” Dallas is always full of surprises. “You can come if you want.”
“Knock-knock! Who’s ready to get their dance on?” Hammer appears in the doorway. “Oh! Sorry. I didn’t realize I was interrupting.”
“You’re not. Dallas is joining us on this adventure.”
“Oh, awesome!” Hammer flops down in a chair at the conference table. “Hollis will appreciate the company. I don’t think he’s had a ton of ballroom-dancing experience, but apparently the idea of having to spend a full eight hours away from me is too much for him to handle.” She fingers the petal on a blossom. “These must be from you.” She gives Dallas a knowing smile. “They’re beautiful.”
“Just like Willy,” Dallas says.
I give him the stink eye. I don’t know why he still calls me Willy. Other than to annoy me.
I peek in the bag, unable to resist the smell. He’s right, I have a terrible habit of skipping lunch and end up eating carrot sticks and freaking Cherry Blasters—the carrots are for balance and vitamin C—and regret it later when the hanger hits.
Whenever we do a retirement-village event, they insist on feeding us. Secretly I love it when they serve things like meatloaf or chicken pot pie. It reminds me of my grandma Grinst. But waiting until four thirty is a terrible idea. I haven’t had anything since breakfast, and it’s already one thirty. I pull out my paper plates and extra cutlery and share the food with Dallas and Hammer, and then Hollis, when he arrives.
Flip arrives a few minutes later and finishes the salad. He never says no to food. I pack up, and the five of us head for our vehicles. Dallas insists on holding my hand and driving with me. I don’t want it to feel nice. I don’t want to like the attention, or being doted on. Adding in the sexual servicing makes it feel…less fake, for some reason.
It’s hard to process how he’s different compared to our childhood. He has always loved pushing my buttons. Admitting that I’m scared of how I’ll feel after this is all over, or even what it means that I’m trusting someone who is party to so many bad memories, feels like a weakness I can’t afford. I don’t want to get comfortable with him, and if he keeps being sweet, that could happen. The lines keep blurring, and when he’s like this, it’s hard to remember this isn’t real. It’s dangerous to like this version of him.
When we arrive, the little old ladies at the retirement home are dressed to the nines. “I love this so much. How cute are they?” I murmur to Dallas, who seems committed to staying by my side.
“So cute. I especially like the one in the red flapper dress.” Dallas’s lips are at my ear. His warm, minty breath breaks across my neck and sends a shiver down my spine. “Picking her as my dance partner. Don’t get too jealous.”
The room is a sea of sequins and loud floral prints. All but a few are wearing their orthotics. A couple of brave souls wear chunky heels. Their makeup is done, lipstick not always inside the lines, and a few women have on enough blue eyeshadow to make the eighties cringe. But they’re adorable, and all the men are dressed in suits.