“Enough about your weird friends for now.” Shay set her glass down and folded her hands in front of her. “So, last week, when you agreed to go out on this date with me, do you remember what else you said?”
“I have a photographic memory. Of course, I remember.” He shrugged.
“And what did you agree to after dinner?”
James’ face paled, and he winced. “Shit. That I’d go wherever you wanted afterward.” He rubbed his neck. “I just figured you meant a movie or something. Why? You got some weird shit planned?”
Shay enjoyed the slight panic in her man’s eyes. Seeing the mighty James Brownstone, Scourge of Harriken and the Granite Ghost, worried about what she might have in store made her want to throw her head back and cackle.
I should take a picture of him.
“You don’t have to look like I’m gonna drop you into a nest of Drow and despair bugs. It’s not some big, twisted plan. I just want to go dancing. Normal, everyday dancing, like normal people who aren’t bounty hunters and tomb raiders do.”
James grunted. “Dancing? I don’t dance.” He shrugged. “I kick ass, and I barbeque.”
“It’s called flexibility, James.” Shay shook a finger at him. “And it doesn’t matter. You at least have to go to a club with me, because you promised to go wherever I wanted, and I want to go to a club.”
He shrugged. “Fine. That doesn’t mean I’m dancing.”
“Don’t be so afraid. Dancing’s just like sex, except with your clothes on.” She smirked.
James grunted.
The pounding base thrummed through Shay’s body in time with the changing of the kaleidoscopic lights overhead. The thick scents of men’s cologne, women’s perfume, and everybody’s sweat mingled in the air, not letting anyone forget even for a second where they were.
James stood against the wall, his arms hanging at his side and tension radiating out of every pore as he frowned at the thick crowd filling the dance floor. It was like he expected a group of magical assassins to bust through the wall and go after him at any second.
Shay tried not to laugh at her poor uncomfortable boyfriend. It might take years to whip him into shape.
Can’t be too surprised. For a guy who likes simple and straight-forward, a crowded club must feel like a slap in the face. He needs to loosen up a little, though, and, shit, I want to go dancing sometimes with someone other than the girls. Is it so wrong to go dancing with your man?
She needed to give him a reason to care, and a reason to understand the power that came with dancing.
Shay sashayed over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and putting her face right next to his.
“You look like you’re trying to pass a kidney stone.” She snickered. “Try to relax a little. You could have a fun time if you let yourself.”
“This place is fucking loud,” he rumbled. “An assassin could go to town in here, and people wouldn’t realize for an hour that someone’s been killed.”
“It’s a club. It’s supposed to be loud, and most people aren’t worried about assassins. They aren’t exactly James Brownstone.” Shay laughed. “Or even me. It’s just a club where people go to drink and dance. You know, have fun.”
James frowned. “How are people supposed to chat when it’s so fucking loud?”
Shay laughed. “They aren’t. Their bodies are supposed to do the talking for them. Come on, let’s do a little dance-talking.”
She shimmied backward a little, letting her arms drop and trace down the thick, powerful muscles in his arms until she reached his hands and tugged lightly.
James shook his head. Despite the noise, she could still make out what he had to say.
“I agreed to go wherever you wanted. I didn’t agree to do whatever you wanted.”
A blond pretty boy sauntered up to Shay and shouted to be heard. “I see that guy doesn’t want to dance. I’d be more than happy to dance with a beautiful woman like you. That guy doesn’t appreciate what he’s got.”
Shay was surprised the pretty boy didn’t recognize James, especially given how much he’d been on television in recent weeks. She didn’t say anything back, instead waiting to see how her anti-dancing boyfriend would react.
The bounty hunter stomped over toward the man and let a loud growl. “Get the fuck out of here, asshole, or I’ll punt you through a fucking wall.”
The pretty boy’s eyes widened, and he ran off, dodging through the crowd like he expected James to open fire on him at any second.
Shay cackled. “Are you kidding me right now? I thought I used to overreact to annoying guys in clubs, but you make me look like the Queen of Restraint.”
He shrugged. “Fine, I’ll dance a little if it’ll make you happy.” He muttered as he stepped forward. “This shit’s gonna be worse than the Bard of Filth Competition. Dancing. Yeah. Whatever.”
Shay placed her hands on his body as she started moving in time with the music. The poor man tried, but either he had a supernaturally bad sense of rhythm or the tension still suffusing him wouldn’t let him shake it.
The sad truth was that James Brownstone had zero groove. Hell, he had negative groove.
The tomb raider grinned, turning around to grind her ass against him for a bit. James grunted, and she let out another merry laugh.
I don’t even care if he is dancing. I’ve got James Brownstone on a dance floor in a club. That’s a victory in itself. Too bad I’m not taking video of this.
The tension stopped radiating off James the minute they stepped into his F-350. He let out a sigh of relief as if he’d just escaped a hostile den of Oriceran assassins.
Shay reached over to pat him on the arm. “I know that probably made you almost have a stroke, but I like that you at least tried. Sometimes you just got to push life, you know?”
He
