Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
The pair practice together a few times, and when Reagan starts to get the hang of it, West picks up the tempo, slowly drawing her into his arms and setting off around the floor, much to the delight of the growing audience. With a wicked grin, he deftly leads her in a simple dance around the room while I watch from the sidelines, stunned. Reagan’s expression goes from reluctant and mortified to amused as he turns them to face the same way, kicking up their heels, then pulls her back to him, lifting her up to twirl her in a smooth circle. Her smile grows the more he sweeps her around the dance floor, and she breaks into delighted hysterics when he flips her over his arm. The captive audience watches as they come to a laughing, gasping stop at the end when West dips her and she throws her head back, laughing.
With a sweet kiss to the top of her head, he mouths, “Thank you, sweetheart,” and she runs over to Lincoln in the periphery, covering her face but beaming beneath her hands.
A hefty number of ladies observe West appreciatively as he makes his way over to me, the viper. His gaze is tentative, and he accepts a glass of water from a waitress with a small mumbled “Thanks.”
“Well, Satan, that was fucking adorable.”
West laughs. “She swears.”
“She sure as shit does.” I lift my chin to the dance floor. “Where’d you learn all that?”
“Granny had us all in dance classes when we were young. Charlie did cotillion. Alex, Jake, and I did young men’s. We basically learned how to be gentlemen. To my granny, dancing was a big part of that.”
“I suspect it makes me a bad feminist to think that’s hot.”
“I suspect you’re right.”
And of course, a slow song begins to play.
His expression straightens, eyes turn earnest. “Would you dance with me?”
I wrap my arms around my stomach. “No, thank you.”
“I know you’re mad at me. And I know why.”
“Good.”
He gazes down at me. “Want to dance anyway?”
I chew my lip, thinking it over. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t shrink from the direct way I’m studying him.
“How do I know you won’t do a one-eighty and freeze me out again?”
“I’ve been spending the past hour or so thinking about that exact question.”
“And?”
“And let’s talk while we dance.”
Finally, with a deep breath, I let him lead me to the floor, where I resist his attempt to pull me close to his chest.
“This song is called ‘Cheek to Cheek,’ ” he says, smiling cutely. “We can’t do the jitterbug to this one. You should come a little closer.”
This is all in-bounds, I think. Dancing in front of his family. Fake-kissing at a party. I will build a wall of pillows between us tonight to keep my body firmly on my side of the bed.
I let him draw me close. His big palm feels like fire on my lower back, and a rough groan rumbles deep in his throat at the contact. West tucks my hand against his chest and bends, pressing his face to mine as he begins to move us around the floor.
Frankly, he’s an amazing dancer. I saw it when he was with Reagan, but I feel it now, the way my feet barely touch the floor. Which is good, honestly, because I have no real idea how to dance to this kind of stuff. I was basically going to show Reagan that there’s no wrong way to dance, but I suspect in this crowd, that isn’t true.
“Anna,” he says, his lips brushing my ear. I ignore this subtle call for my attention, and I definitely ignore how much I like it when he calls me Anna. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you think you’re apologizing for?” I say quietly into his neck.
“For disappearing after what you said at the spa. For coming back and being a weirdo.”
“You know, I don’t mind that you disappeared. After the initial sting of it, I didn’t mind that you got weird, either. I’m sure all of this acting is draining. I’m sure keeping your shit together with your family here is exhausting. This is an objectively weird situation. And I’m weird all the time. But I’m not cold weird. I’m not hurtful weird.”
“You are, in fact, one of the most level-headed people I’ve ever met. And have more class than me, or anyone here.” He spins us a few times, fancy moves. Hot moves.
I will not be swayed.
“I know this is one big game,” I say, “but at least keep the rules consistent. You keep changing them on me. You came to find me at the spa and kissed me so sweetly, and then ran away when I said something nice.”
“Understood. I really am sorry.”
“It’s probably easiest if we continue to be fake-happily-married in front of everyone and keep it simple. Just for show.”