Page 38 of Making It Up

Sure, why not? He’s cute. And he dances. And he doesn’t hate my dad.

But after only a minute, his hands slide from my waist to my hips. Then lower.

His hands are on my ass. And he’s bringing me even closer to his body. I tense up, my hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest. I start to push.

“You know, Mia, I’ve always thought?—”

But I’m always going to have to wonder what Hunter thought because he’s yanked away from me at that second.

“Hey!” he protests.

“My turn.”

And just like that, I’m staring up at David Bennett.

He’s got a foot planted between me and Hunter and his body wedged so that Hunter could reach out and touch me, but he’d have to go past David to do it. David isn’t touching me, but he’s got a hand on Hunter’s arm. David’s body is definitely in my personal space, though, and I can smell the laundry detergent from his shirt.

But he’s not looking at me. He’s watching Hunter with an unwavering glare.

“What the hell?” Hunter asks. “You’re kind of interrupting.”

“Exactly,” David says. He shifts, putting more of his body between us and moving Hunter further back.

Easily, I might add.

Hunter doesn’t try to push David away. In fact, he takes a step back, and David lets go of him.

“We weren’t done,” Hunter says.

“Yes, you were,” David tells him.

Then David turns to me. And holds out his hands, palms up. Giving me the choice.

I don’t get the impression my choice is to continue dancing with Hunter—which is fine because I didn’t like the feel of his hands on my ass at all—but I could actually turn on my heel and walk away from David right now.

He’s giving me that chance.

His hands would feel great on my ass, I bet.

Okay, that thought is not helpful.

Hunter has already stomped away and there are only a few people paying any attention to us.

All of the people who came to the bar with us.

No one else seems to care at all.

“See?” I say. “Totally casual.”

He quirks one eyebrow, then reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me close and settling his other hand on my hip.

I grin. I’m suddenly feeling a bit triumphant.

We start moving to the music.

“So, you do dance,” I say.

“Sometimes.”