Page 35 of Big Stick Energy
“Isee,” Maribel says, the word landing with significance. Her eyes dart to Eric’s embrace, hand cupping my shoulder, and a smile slowly blooms on her face. “Maybe if we returned your phone calls more often, we’d be up to speed on all the latest developments.”
“Right?” my brother chuckles. “Darcy, I’msosorry. You left me a voicemail, but shower gifts were the last thing on my mind this week. The plumber who’s working on our new house caused a flood…”
“… And ahugemess,” Maribel adds. “We were a little distracted, and we’re sorry.”
“Sounds terrible.” But I’m suddenly having trouble tracking the conversation. Eric’s body is giving off a pleasant heat that’s hard to ignore. And up close, his scent is a devastating combination of an expensive, woodsy cologne, freshly done laundry (he’s the kind of guy who actually separates his whites), and a hint of leather.
“Oh, it’s all cleaned up now,” Maribel says. “So tell me everything. How long have you two been dating?”
“Not that long,” I say drily. “In fact, I forget when we started.”
Eric laughs. And I know we’re just playacting, here, but the rich sound of it soaks through all the neediest places in my soul.“It was averybusy hockey season. Whole thing is a blur. Right, babe?” He nudges my foot under the table. “But lucky me. I’ve got a date for the wedding of the year. And a partner for this…” He gestures vaguely toward the stage. “A dance competition? Maribel,really?”
“Not my idea.” She grins, clasping Theo’s hand. “He’s the dancer in this relationship. He’s got us taking lessons.”
“Lessons?” I yelp. It’s hard to picture Theo getting excited about anything other than golf. Butdancing?
“I’m one of the owners of a karate dojo,” he explains with a shrug. “And my buddy’s girlfriend is a dance instructor who teaches classes there. I signed us up for swing-dancing lessons to show our support, and it was so much fun.”
Maribel takes a carrot stick off my plate and points it at Theo. “Who knew he had a secret talent for the Lindy Hop?” She bites the carrot stick. “We’re all stunned.”
“Maybe it was all those tennis lessons?” I suggest.
“That’s what I said, too!” Theo smiles right at me. “Seriously.”
This is the easiest conversation I’ve ever had with Theo. And maybe that’s why I feel Tessa’s stare like a sunburn. So I finally give in and look in her direction. She’s glaring at me, as if standing here beside Eric and chatting up the bride and groom were a federal offense.
“Eric? You don’t have to dance,” Maribel says, laying a hand on his jacket sleeve. “If you hate the idea, you can sit out with the other scaredy-cats and losers.”
“Ooooh,” I breathe. “Don’t look now, boo, but Maribel just threw you some shade.”
“Challenge accepted,” he says, pulling me a little closer. “We’re going to win this thing. Right, Darcy?”
“Doubt it,” Tessa mumbles before turning on her heel and walking away.
Someone’s feeling a little bitchy.It could be anything, I guess. But I’m guessing she can’t get over the idea that I have a date with the sexiest man in sports.
Then again, I can hardly believe it either, so I guess we’re both surprised.
Eric frowns after Tessa as she stomps away. “Did I say something wrong?”
Theo turns to watch his sister head for the DJ stand. “Eh, she’s in a mood. It’s about this Josh thing.”
“Who’s Josh?” I ask.
Theo and Maribel exchange a wince. “Her ex-boss.”
“Tessa has ajob?” Last I heard, she was doing sometravel influencing, which meant traveling a lot on Daddy’s dime to post pretty pictures on Instagram.
Another awkward exchange of glances. “Well, shedidhave a job,” my brother says. “But she got involved with her boss, and I think it ended badly.”
“Ouch,” Eric mutters.
I would have enjoyed hearing more about my least favorite sibling’s fuckups, but the conversation moves on, and I can’t track it. That’s because Eric’s fingertips graze lightly over my bare shoulder as he talks.
Okay, what ishappeninghere? It’s not like Eric to toy with my emotions. Or, fine, my libido. I don’t know what he’s playing at. Even after he drops his hand, the whisper of his fingertips is seared into my consciousness the same way my retinas burn from an accidental glance at the sun.
And I’m only human. My subconscious takes the extra step ofwondering what would happen next if Eric were actually my boyfriend. We’d head back to my hotel room after this, and then…
