Page 25 of Airhead

“Three sips of this one.” She jerked her chin toward her sister. “Looks like we’re about to enter the stage four with The Creep.”

Adler was the creep, that was self explanatory. But the rest of it? “I’m gonna need more information about the stages.”

Katie let out a long sigh, and took a sip of her drink through the red bendy straw before answering, “Every time Connie breaks up with The Creep, there is a four-stage process.” She held up one finger. “Stage One: The break up, because he cheated on her.” She held up a second finger. “Stage Two: The total trashing of the numb-nut cheater.” She held up a third finger. “Stage Three: The Creep grovels. This stage can last anywhere from a weekend to a month and a half.” She held up a fourth finger. “Stage Four: She takes him back, and the whole process starts again.”

That made about as much sense as swimming in a river of gasoline while smoking. Sure, just like everyone knew that his twin, Paul, never met a bad decision he didn’t love, everyone knew that Connie and Adler had been on and off again since high school. The off being because the man had a wandering dick. However, that didn’t mean that it made sense.

He took a drink from his bottle of Bud. “Why does she stay with him?”

“I don’t know,” Katie said as she shook her head.

Frank looked over at Connie and Adler in the corner. They were just talking, and there was at least three feet of space between the two of them. But there was no missing that it was only a matter of time before he wormed his way back into her good graces.

“Maybe,” Frank said, turning his attention back to Katie, “Adler has his good points.”

She looked at him, as if considering the possibility, for a whole three beats before they both started laughing.

“Okay,” he said. “He has no redeeming qualities.”

“Not a single one,” she agreed with a smile.

Fuck he liked making her do that. He could spend a lifetime thinking up ways to make her laugh. Making Katie Madigan—no, Katie Hartigan—laugh seemed like a damn good mission in life. With Fitz’s party going off without a hitch, though, his time to make that mission happen was limited. Tonight was the night.

He leaned on the bar, the move bringing him closer to her. “How about, instead of talking about them, we have a dance to celebrate a job well done?”

Her cheeks went pink, as if she was suddenly flushed with heat, but she didn’t step away. “That sounds nice but⁠—”

“You don’t trust yourself with me,” he teased.

This time, she was the one who stepped closer, looking up at him she tilted her chin in challenge. “Always so sure of yourself.”

“Always just right,” he said with a shrug that, yes, was cocky as hell.

That made her laugh. “Frank Hartigan, you’re nothing but trouble.”

“And you get bored by the predictability of all the other guys in town.”

Her eyes widened, no doubt with surprise that he’d noticed that. But he noticed everything about her. That’s how he knew she was more worried about Connie than she let on, because of the way she’d been gnawing her bottom lip while watching her twin. He couldn’t fix Adler, beyond pushing him off the Harbor City Bridge, so he’d distract Katie instead.

She took a long, slow drink of her Long Island iced tea, eyeing him appraisingly as if seeing him for the first time. “Is that why I don’t date?”

“Nah.” He shook his head and took a drink of his beer. “You don’t date because you scare the shit out of everyone else.”

Katie leaned in close. “But not you?”

He grinned down at her instead of answering, loving the way it made her breath hitch. He set his beer down on the bar and held out his hand. It hung there in the air for a few beats before she shook her head and set her drink down too.

“One dance,” she said as she took his hand.

So be it, but that meant he was going to make it count.

She raised her eyebrows when he didn’t lead her to the dance floor but instead headed for the door that led to the outdoor beer garden. Yeah, it was cold out but he could keep her warm, and this way everyone at the party wouldn’t be watching them. Nothing would scare her off faster than folks gossiping about what their dance meant. He had to take this slow and quiet, or she’d jet.

Just as he reached for the door, it opened. A blast of cold air and loud laughter came through, jolting them both to a stop. Her grip on his hand loosened and he knew, in that moment, that if she ran now, she was as good as gone. So he pivoted, pushed open the door to the supply closet he’d raided earlier, and pulled her inside.

She looked around at the shelves of bar supplies lining the walls and then back at him. “Why are we here?”

“For a dance.” He held out his arms the way he’d learned in that ballroom class the nuns had made all the kids in the neighborhood take in middle school so they wouldn’t be tempted to sin at the high school dance. It had worked about as well as expected. “Shall we?”