Page 5 of Business Casual
“You’re not going, are you?”
I stand and rub my palms over the silky material of my dress. The wine has left me feeling warm and loose. Untethered and unconcerned. I could use a dance with a handsome man.
I could use more than a dance. I stare at the man in the middle of the dance floor, shimmying in place, thumbs hooked beneath his suspenders. Would Charlie be down for some meaningless stress relief in the form of bedroom shenanigans? He certainly seems like he would be.
Either way, Harper is right. I have been focusing almost exclusively on work. I deserve to cut loose. I deserve to have some fun.
I gather my skirt in my hand and begin making my way to the dance floor.
Charlie looks like a whole lot of fun.
2
CHARLIE
Nova Porter iswalking toward me like she can’t decide if she wants to dance with me or tear me limb from limb.
Storm cloud eyes. Dark blond hair twisted in a low messy bun. A dress that was either made in my dreams or my nightmares. It shimmers as she walks, a soft gray material that looks like it would slip through my fingers like water. Plunging neckline and a skirt that flares out around her ankles. Bare feet. Pink cheeks. Tattoos all along her arms and down her shoulders.
She looks like she could eat me alive.
I fucking love it.
She stops six inches away from me and tips her chin up, a queen on her throne from half a foot below my chin. I grin, she scowls, and everything is as it’s always been between Nova and me.
I had my doubts that she’d actually come out on the dance floor. She hasn’t taken an ounce of my shit since I met her.
“Hey” is what slips out of my mouth as I stare down at her, like I haven’t spent the past seventeen minutes trying to coerce her out here with my entire arsenal of ridiculous behavior. I reach out and curl my hand around her hip, tugging her closer. “How’s it going?”
She falls into me with a huff, both of her hands flat against my chest. I get half of an eye roll and a quirk of her lips. “It’s going.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Better if this giant buffoon of a man would stop yelling across a tree field.”
“Hmm.” I pick up one of her hands and fold it in mine, taking care to trace my thumb over the delicate bouquet of flowers inked from her wrist to her knuckles. I arrange her into a proper dancing stance. “That sounds embarrassing.”
She gives me a droll look, unimpressed as ever.
“You’ve been bellowing my name across the dance floor, Charlie.”
“Wouldn’t have to bellow if you joined me sooner.” Closer like this, I can see the deep navy-blue halo that rings her irises. The one, single freckle under her left eye. “But let’s let bygones be bygones. The end result remains the same.”
“And what is that?”
“You, dancing with me. I didn’t even have to bring out the big guns.”
One eyebrow pops up. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“It involves a string of lights, the bottle of moonshine Clint spiked the apple cider with, and a very elaborate choreography routine.” I tip my head closer to hers. “Maybe if you’re good, I’ll show you later.”
She snickers under her breath. I grin and spin us around.
Flirting has always been easy for me, but flirting with Nova is a goddamn delight. Her whole body comes alive under the attention, like a flower tilting toward the sun. I’m greedy for her reactions. For the way pink lights up her cheeks.
The song switches from a Spice Girls remix to something smooth and sultry, Duke Ellington’s horn echoing out the long notes to “Stardust.” It’s a deep swelling beat, slow and romantic.
Her entire face collapses in dismay.
