Page 13 of All Mine (The All Mine #1)

Isabella

Wren’s topknot was still in impeccable shape, even if she was slightly worse for wear. Rosie was delightfully squiffy and in the middle of a long story about the latest book she was reading.

‘Honestly, the sex! So well depicted!’ She rolled her eyes in pleasure.

‘There’s me thinking she’d be all highbrow when we met,’ interjected Wren, ‘but she’s as happy with Bridgerton as she is with Jane Austen. The more sex, the better.’ They grinned at each other, infuriatingly in love. The music in the bar turned up a notch.

‘Yes!’ Wren exclaimed. ‘Let’s dance!’ She threw back the last mouthful in her glass and strode out of the booth.

‘How did you two meet?’ Isabella asked.

‘Wren used to be a dancer,’ Rosie said, looking lovingly at her partner who was now purposefully moving onto the dance floor.

‘I can totally see that,’ Isabella said. ‘Was it ballet?’

‘Not quite,’ Rosie said with a giggle as Wren stepped up to the silver pole in the middle of the dance floor.

Placing one hand on it, high above her head, she turned a tight pirouette underneath her own arm until she stood with her back to the pole.

Lifting her knee, she placed her heel back against the steel and flicked a heavy-lidded look in their direction.

‘She used to work with Cirque du Soleil a long time ago, but I met her doing what she does best, on a pole, in a club.’

Wren stepped round the bar in two long strides; people made room, someone whistled.

Then she lifted herself as though weightless, circling the pole perfectly with one arm, one knee leading the way, the other straight out behind her, flying without effort.

A moment later, she was upside down, still circumnavigating the pole.

‘She’s incredible,’ Amber whispered, stirring her new blue cocktail with a steel straw.

‘She’s amazing!’ Isabella gasped.

‘She’s hot ,’ Rosie said with a proud smile.

The song ended and Wren landed elegantly on her heels to a roar of approval from the crowd. Next moment, the band bounded on stage.

‘Let’s get up there,’ said Rosie, scooting along the booth. Amber downed her drink and then she and Isabella followed. ‘It’s Throwback Thursday time!’

The guitarist started a well-known riff and then Isabella was dancing, hands in the air, happy.