Page 53 of Married to the Scottish Player
“To ask me a random question.”
I paddle once, twice, then lean back, letting us glide aimlessly. “All right. If you could instantly master one useless skill with absolutelynovalue—what would it be?”
She grins. “Oooh, that’s a good one.”
“I know.” I smirk. “I only ask hard-hitting stuff.”
She hums, clearly thinking. “Okay. I want to be able to tear open a bag of chips without gnawing through them all like an animal.”
I blink. “That’s your answer?” Is she being serious?
My appalled tone doesn’t faze her in the least. “You said useless.”
I laugh, adjusting my grip on the paddle. “Fine, that’s fair. My turn, then.”
She twists around, eyebrows raised. “To answer your own question?”
“Yes. If I could master one useless skill, it would be dancing. I suck at it, and I hear dancing makes the ladies go wild.”
“So—Magic Mike?”
“Okay, wow. That escalated.”
She snorts. “You said you wanted to make ladies go wild. I’m just being specific.”
“Well, I was thinking more like ... wedding reception moves. Like, I don’t want to be the guy who claps offbeat to the ‘Cha Cha Slide.’”
She gasps. “You clap offbeat?”
Yes. Yes, I clap offbeat. “So what?”
Annabelle laughs at that, the sound echoing across the lake, and I hate to admit how much I like it.
“We could practice,” she says after a moment. “Tonight at the wedding reception—surely there’ll be dancing. There always is.”
I blink. “Wait, so now you’re saying you want to crash the wedding? What made you change your mind?”
She shrugs, a sly smile creeping across her lips as she turns her body to look at me. “I mean, if you really want to impress me with your rhythm, I’m willing to entertain the idea.”
Shit. This was a fun conversation when she hated the idea.
It was more fun to tease her.
Then she goes on. “I don’t think the bride would appreciate two strangers practicing my sweet moves in the middle of her first dance.”
“I’dappreciate it.”
The kayak slides forward in the glassy water, the island’s shore now just a few yards away. I can already see a decent place to pull up—bit of shoreline with a couple of low trees fallen in the water, with crooked branches that look like they’d be perfect for climbing or jumping off as the sun rises higher in the sky.
“You think anyone would actually notice us?” I ask, more curious than serious.
Annabelle shrugs. “Depends. Are you a good enough dancer to steal focus?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Well, then yes,” she says. “We’d be very noticeable.”
The front of the kayak bumps gently against the rocks, scraping enough to jolt us both forward a few inches. Annabelle makes a delightednoise and hops out before I can even get my paddle situated and steady across the top of the kayak.
