That earned me a wolfish grin and a shake of his head. “You’re still trouble, Lis.”
What the hell did that mean? I hadn’t been anything remotely close to “trouble” for as long as the Calverts had known me.
The sound of Sharon sucking the last drops of her drink through her straw caught my attention, and I glanced over at her to find her watching me intently.
Oh, good grief. I could practically read her mind, and no, Mason was off-limits. That door wasn’t merely closed; it didn’t exist. He was my brother-in-law, for chrissakes. Or former. Whatever. We were family, and he was dangerous. You gazed very briefly and very carefully at the sun; you didn’t fly to it.
“That’s my cue to get you girls new drinks,” Mason said. “What’re you having?”
“I think Lissa needs a Screaming Orgasm,” Sharon replied.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but…” I snorted and managed to get ahold of myself before I glanced up at a tickled Mason. “Gin and tonic, please. Extra lemon.”
He inclined his head and faced Sharon.
“I’m a rum and Coke kind of girl,” she said. “Thank you, Mason.”
“Of course.” He headed toward the bar, and I couldn’t even count to three before Sharon pounced.
“You have to—”
“Don’t even,” I warned.
“But—”
“Sharon!”
“Why? If you don’t see all the signals he’s sending you, you need a new transmitter.”
I rolled my eyes and finished my drink. “He’s like this with everyone. Trust me. I’ve known the man for twenty years.”
Kind of. It wasn’t like we’d been friends, but two decades of Christmases, Thanksgivings, and the occasional anniversary party added up.
Thankfully, Sharon let it go.
Three
The band was a few songs into their set when Sharon said it was time to shake what our mamas had given us.
“At our age, we don’t shake,” I muttered into my glass. “We jiggle.”
Man, the third drink hit the sweet spot.
Sharon hadn’t heard me over the music, but Mason evidently had. His eyes lit up with silent laughter as he slid out of the booth.
“Mason, are you joining us, or are you going to watch the table?” Sharon asked. “I wouldn’t mind seeing your moves, you know.”
He glanced at me while I got out. “I think it’s better I stay back and enjoy the show. Your purses are safe with me.”
“Ha! No purse for me.” I had no idea why I was smug about that. “I have my phone right here.” I pointed to the side of my boob. The phone was tucked into my bra, right underneath the strap.
Mason dropped his gaze to my chest, only to avert it quickly and smirk at the floor. “I have no appropriate response for that, so I’m just gonna wish you ladies a fun time on the dance floor.”
Holy fuck, I was awkward. I’d literally just pointed at my rack in front of my ex-husband’s brother.
Before I could make it worse, I dragged Sharon to the dance floor, and I completely ignored her snickers.
“I can’t believe I did that.”
“Me either, but I’m so glad it happened,” she laughed. “I’m sure he appreciated it too.”
I scoffed.
“Hey.” She stopped me before we could reach the crowd dancing and enjoying the live music, and she leaned closer so I could hear her properly. “There’s nothing wrong with having fun, Lissa. It doesn’t have to be celibacy or marriage. I don’t need to remind you of that, do I? It wasn’t that long ago you had a man’s tongue down your throat.”
Where it truly shouldn’t be! What an awful memory to slap in my face. I got her point; I wasn’t foreign to getting frisky when I was out, though it wasn’t common either. The man she was referring to was my last. It was several months ago, and he’d introduced me to the definition of tonsil hockey.
I was not a fan.
Sharon backed off and gave me a pointed look. “Just think about it. You’re both adults.”
I didn’t respond, and she didn’t wait for a reply anyway. She grabbed my hand, and we disappeared into the crowd.
I’d always liked to dance. If the music was good, which it actually was right now, I could just close my eyes and get lost for a moment. I was surrounded by others, some dancing alone like me, some dancing with partners. I didn’t care about any of them. I let the upbeat rock tune pull me in, and my heartbeat raced with the bass.
As colorful lights skimmed across the sea of people, I smiled to myself and shimmied my hips, in love with the words in the chorus.
Leave her wild…
Whenever I felt someone, a hand on my lower back or my shoulder, I eased away from the unasked question and found another spot to make my own.
It became increasingly difficult when the slower songs began. I came to a stop and found myself at the back of the floor, and I stared at all the couples dancing. My breaths came out shallower, and my mouth was too dry.
A drink was in order.
I made my way back to our booth and reciprocated Mason’s smile.
He rose from the booth and said he’d gotten us new drinks.
“You’re too sweet. You didn’t have to do that, hon.” I slid into my seat and released a breath. Dancing was a good workout. The best kind, really, because you drank alcohol instead of water to quench your thirst. “They must’ve done something new with the gin and tonic since last time. It’s incredible tonight.”
Mason sat down next to me, his fingers forming a semicircle around his…maybe it was whiskey or bourbon. “The trick is to be specific. That’s Brooklyn Gin. It has a more pronounced taste of citrus.”
“Incredible,” I repeated, taking another sip. “Do you moonlight as a bartender?”
He chuckled. “Nope, just a man who knows his gin.” He shifted in his seat, facing me better, and folded the sleeves of his button-down. “You looked happy out there.”
He’d seen me? Damn. “I was. I mean,
