“Were you undercover the whole time?”
“Most of it, yeah. So needless to say, this is a bit of culture shock.” I tilt my chin at the crowd of rich people in fancy clothes, at the famous band performing on stage, then look down at her. I can see the question in her eyes, but she doesn’t ask.
The next thing I know, her lips are on mine, the kiss sweet and tender, but way too short. It’s my turn to be stunned, but the slow song ends and something fast and rhythmic begins.
Before I have a chance to react, Callie grins and pulls back, still gripping my hands as she sways her hips faster, moving her feet in the familiar steps of a swing dance. The skirt of her dress parts at the side, revealing a sexy slit up one thigh. It’s a dress made for dancing, which is something I’m more than happy to do with the right partner.
I take over, pulling her into my body and then swinging her back out, the pair of us spinning and dancing like a pair of ballroom masters. The rest of the crowd seems to follow suit, but I’m lost in her, only half-aware of the other dancers who surround us.
She grins at me the entire time, our fingers locked together when we’re close, our rhythm in perfect sync. It feels good to move this way, even though it reminds me of how reluctant I was to let Mom teach me these dance steps when I was a kid. I thought dancing was for girls back then and hadn’t yet figured out how fun it could be when you have a skilled partner.
The song ends and we walk back to the table, breathless. I’m exhilarated, but a little too hot in my tuxedo jacket, so I shed it and hang it on the back of my chair, then roll up my sleeves. I can’t help but laugh and take a small bow at the whoops and applause that Nina and Booth send our way.
“Nice moves,” Nina says, nodding appraisingly at us both. “You two were perfect out there. Wow, Callie! I forgot how good you were at that!”
She shrugs. “I guess it’s like riding a bike; you never really forget the steps. But having the right partner is what makes it work. Where did you learn to dance?” She reaches out and squeezes my arm.
The answer is on the tip of my tongue, along with all my other secrets. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a strong urge to confess every single thing to a person I’ve barely known for a day.
But I stop myself and shrug. “Had a lot of downtime in the Navy,” I say rather than tell her my mom taught me. I don’t know how much she’s learned about Marcella Santos, but I can’t risk her putting those pieces together. Not yet.
She rewards me with a shining smile, stroking fingers lightly across my arm. Her head tilts and she looks down, her gaze catching on the upraised skin beneath her fingers. Her smile falters as she turns my arm over for a better view. I glance down and wince at the fresh tattoo of Zoe’s name, realizing what it looks like. “It isn’t what you’re thinking.”
“It’s okay. You don’t owe me an explanation for anything.”
“Maybe not, but you deserve one.” I’m not that guy, I want to say. I’m not the guy she wasted years on only to find out he was fucking around on her. But I can’t bring myself to divulge the truth.
She stares at me expectantly while I sputter for an answer I can live with that won’t leave her wondering whether she can even trust me.
“Believe me, he’s single,” Booth finally says, and I’m only half-grateful for his intervention.
“Then tell us who Zoe is,” Nina says, lifting her glass and tilting it at my arm before taking a drink. Despite the casual tone, she pins me with a challenging stare. It’s understandable that she’d be protective of her best friend if she knew anything about the cheating ex.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “It’s complicated. She’s just someone special to me. Not in the way you’re thinking, but I can’t really talk about it.”
Nina leans forward as if she’s about to strike, but Callie puts a hand on her shoulder. “Nina, it’s fine. I don’t need to know his secrets. If I was worried about taking risks, I’d have stayed home tonight.” She looks at me, her expression enigmatic, but thoughtful. “Just call this a calculated risk. The kind my instincts suggest will pay off.”
Nina huffs. “That had better be your dog’s name or something, because if it belongs to a woman you aren’t related to, first, you’re a douche, and second, you have really lousy judgment.”
Callie’s still studying me closely, and for the first time I have an inkling of how brilliant she must be. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”
“On my mother’s life, I swear I’m not.” My voice catches, because I’m suddenly very invested in having her believe me without having to tell her the truth. At least not yet.
“Good. Because if you’re lying to me, I’ll never speak to you again. Now let’s dance.”
17 Callie
Despite Nina’s skepticism about Mason’s tattoo, I’m not willing to cut our night short. I have no illusions that spending time with him will be anything more than a night of fun, so whatever secrets he’s keeping don’t really factor in. But I remember his earnest worry over Marcella Santos, and his sympathy when I mentioned my breakup. He was far more emotionally invested than Barnaby ever was, even though he barely knew me. Besides, I was the one who threw myself at him, who took the risk. And he met me halfway without asking for more.
We wear ourselves out dancing, and in between dances, we keep to safer topics, like gossiping about the other guests, many
