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“Oh, I’m not surprised at all that you’ve got hidden talents,” he says, giving me a smirk. “Feel free to share those with me any time you want.”
I make a face. “Keep dreaming, Mr. King.”
“Oh, I will.” His darkened eyes catch mine for as long as the dance allows. “I do.”
A few steps later, Ben shifts us into a new, more complicated set of twists and spins. I’m determined to keep up with him, but I find even more than that, I’m doing this for the rush.
A kind of happy glow unfurls in my chest. Familiar but a little rusty too, like it’s been too long since my heart muscles have been stretched.
Somewhere in the middle of the first song, I forget about what I’m trying to prove, forget about my very real intent to keep Ben at arm’s length.
I’m lost in the beat and the adrenaline high and the feel of Ben’s hands on my hands. On my waist. Every so often, on a place they have no business being. Like when his fingertip grazes my cheek or my collarbone, or he gives me a quick and totally unnecessary squeeze low on my hips.
Whatever, I tell myself.It’s just one dancewith the bad boy billionaire.It won’t ruin me or my sense of practicality and self-preservation.
But one song turns into two, and I forget who Ben is and why I’m so set on maintaining a high hedge of distance between us. This dance has taken an electric saw to my shrubbery.
I’ll have to worry about it later.
Right now, I’m chasing something elusive, an emotion I’ve almost forgotten how to feel. My skin is aglow, my muscles are singing, and my gaze is fixed firmly on Ben.
If I thought he was attractive before, this Ben is nearly irresistible. His hair is a wild mess, his eyes are sparkling, and every touch is like a brand.
When the current song abruptly ends, I’m shaken out of my Benedict King haze. I stare at him for a beat. His eyes are wide, his chest visibly heaving as he catches his breath. I suspect I’m mirroring his expression.
What just happened?
My gaze is ripped from his by the sound of my sister clearing her throat into a microphone. Eloise and Merritt are both standing on the stage in front of the band, and they give me wide eyes and not-so-subtle jerks of their heads to indicate I should be up there too. Which I definitely hadn’t planned on.
Though I’ve done very little other than offer emotional support to my sisters as they renovated Gran’s place, I shake free of the moment with Ben and practically sprint up to join them.
I may not want to be on stage right now, but I definitely need to leave Benedict and whateverthatwas far behind.
FIVE
Ben
It was just a dance,I tell myself. The same dance I did with Harriett not twenty minutes ago. One I’ve done countless times since I was a teenager and my mom forced me to take lessons—which, as it turned out, I actually enjoyed.
So why do I feel like my entire world was just turned upside down?
Holding Sadie in my arms was a drug all its own, but more powerful than that was the unbreaking eye contact. The way we felt connected through the music, the way my skin buzzed every time it touched hers—cheesy as it sounds, the only word I can think to describe it ismagical.It’s all I can do not to follow her like a lost puppy and beg for more.
Sadie has been distant since I met her—trading one mask for another depending on the circumstance and whether one of her sisters is nearby. But that dance—I was seeing the real Sadie. No pretense. No masks. Justher.
And she is even more alluring than I thought.
She’s also one hell of a dancer. She picked up the steps quickly, her body leaning and shifting with mine, her movements smooth and graceful. We hit pause on our usual snappy banter and found a whole new sort of give-and-take. One I could really get used to.
I stare at the small stage where Sadie is now standing beside her sisters, her eyes darting from the sky overhead to the sprawling live oaks at the edge of the lawn. She enjoyed that dance as much as I did. I can tell because she’s refusing to look at me now. Acknowledging that she felt the same connection I did would go against everything I’ve observed about Sadie so far.
I don’t know why she’s fighting this.
Only that she won’t stop.
A tiny thrill pushes through me at the thought. After growing up watching my parents fight—both in person and by using various assets, including me—I never would have thought I’d enjoy fighting. But with Sadie … I do. And something tells me this fight will be particularly worth it.
“We want to thank the whole community of Oakley for your support,” Merritt says. “And we know our Gran—Genevieve Markham—would be grateful as well.” The oldest Markham sister makes a show of welcoming Jake and Hunter onto the stage, and Sadie steps off to the side to make room. Suddenly, shedoeslook at me.
