Page 22 of Not that Impressed (Houston Pumas #3)

I shake my head at myself. Did I want Jett to confirm that Will’s a jerk?

Maybe because if he was awful to everyone but Charlie and Anna, it would help me feel better about how I treated him the night he asked me out.

Especially since it turns out I was completely wrong about him, and he didn’t deserve any of it.

He said one mean thing about me and I decided he was the villain.

I don’t like the tight feeling in my chest when I think about the way I treated him and thought I was justified.

I write my name and some bids down on a few other things—a spa day for me and Janelle, signed books for a romance series I love, and a spot on the Blue Team for a flag football charity game sponsored by the Pumas later this season.

When I’m done, I see that Janelle and Charlie have left the dance floor and are getting drinks. I move toward them.

“Blue team, huh?” Will says from behind me.

I spin toward him, my heart racing. I’m excited to see him.

Bad idea, girl.

“Please tell me you’re going to be on the Black Team.

” I put a hand on my hip, an automatic power move I can’t help doing when I face off with Will.

His eyes do a sweep over me after I strike that pose, and shivers slide up my spine.

He’s wearing a pair of black athletic pants that hug his muscular thighs and a pair of high-top white Nikes.

His white Pumas t-shirt stretches across his chest.

“Captain,” he says simply, but his low voice and the confidence almost make me take a step closer to him. I like it and I shouldn’t.

I wonder if I can donate extra to get the captain spot for the Blue Team. I doubt it. It’ll be one of the other players. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s Jett. Our two star players, offense and defense.

“So,” I say, shaking my hands a little like I can get rid of my nerves. “Sorry … about what I said to you when you asked me out. I was way out of line.”

His shoulders relax. “Thanks.”

When he doesn’t say more, we end up staring at each other for several moments. My cheeks burn and something flutters in my stomach. I remember how gently he held me after I hit my head. I try to push the thoughts from my brain, keep myself from leaning toward him.

I rush to fill the heady silence. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that. Believed something horrible about you without a second thought. I mean, that’s exactly what I yelled at you about at Charlie’s party. Pretty hypocritical of me, right?—”

“Ellie.”

Holy viral meltdown, his deep voice makes my knees so weak, I might end up in urgent care again.

With him carrying me.

Stop picturing that, Ellie Bennet!

“I just want you to know,” I continue, the tone of my voice rising, and soon it will be a squeak. Where is hand-on-her-hip Ellie? Has she fled the building? “Well, I want you to know that I recognize I overreacted to what you said at Charlie’s party?—”

“Ellie.” His shoulders tense again, and I look down to see him clenching his fists.

Our friendship is doomed if I can stress him out just by talking. Forget about more.

Ugh! I don’t want more!

“You’re not the first person Hollis has charmed into believing his side,” he says. “I didn’t even insult those people first.”

A surprised laugh escapes me. “That’s not an excuse.”

“Will you dance with me?” he asks abruptly. He holds out a hand toward me.

My mouth drops open. “Me?” I catch myself leaning toward him.

“Yeah.” At first glance he sounds sure of himself, but the more I study him, I see unease in his eyes. Which is fair, considering how I responded the last time he made a romantic move with me.

I hesitate a moment before I can’t help myself from agreeing. Electricity crackles between us and I am attracted to Will, against my better judgment.

“Okay.” I put my hand in his. As he wraps his hand around mine, the first thing I notice is how big it is. Not surprising. Will is a large man. The team roster lists him at 6’5” and a svelte two-hundred and fifty pounds, probably all muscle given this guy’s intensity.

When we reach the dance floor, the DJ’ed music stops and a performer steps on stage.

The stage lights are dimmed, and a hush drops over the crowd.

Then they flash on to reveal a grinning Logan Knox.

I give a gasp and a few claps. Mom knows how much I love Logan, so I don’t know why I’m surprised Mom pulled off getting her here.

“You like Logan Knox?” Will asks. His tone sounds dry and slightly condescending.

I prickle. “Are you one of her proud haters?” I retort.

He looks surprised by the heat in my voice, and I second guess my interpretation of his tone.

“No. ‘Told You I Would’ is in my warm-up list and she’s a brilliant businesswoman.

” His voice holds some obviously in it, but that might be my fault for assuming the disdain before when I wasn’t sure about his tone.

“Oh … I thought you sounded snobby about her.”

He squeezes my hand and gives me a slight smile. I realize that I never let go of Will’s hand after he asked me to dance.

“Sometimes…” he says cautiously, “I sound short or mad when I’m not. It’s just who I am, Charlie likes to say.”

I nod slowly, studying him. I remember how when he offered to help me the night Janelle got sick at Charlie’s, and then asked why I needed to move the car, I decided right away that his questioning was patronizing because I’m always ready to believe the worst of Will.

Even amidst this growing attraction to him.

“Good to know,” I say .

Logan starts with a love song, “Fall Like That,” which is a fan-favorite, and Will gently tugs me into his arms. My breath catches when his hand settles at the small of my back, though I try to cover it.

And then we’re swaying so close together, my hands on his muscular biceps and staring at the Pumas logo across his massive chest. Will could wrap me up in the greatest bear hug ever.

I know it would be spectacular even though he doesn’t give off teddy-bear vibes.

“Let’s try something,” Will says, drawing my attention up to his face.

“Let’s not talk at all.” I open my mouth to disagree.

I have too many questions to go four minutes without speaking a word to him.

He holds up a hand. “Sometimes I say the wrong things,” he continues.

“Sometimes your response is instinctive.” A nice way to say thoughtless.

“Let’s see what happens when we’re quiet. ”

He gazes down at me, intense, his eyes focused on mine. Shivers run up my spine and some magical power of his has robbed me of my ability to speak, which is a feat. I nod.

Will rests our clasped hands against his chest. His t-shirt is soft, but the muscles underneath are not.

The fact that we’re not saying anything has an awareness pulsing through me everywhere our bodies touch.

His arm is around my back, and he shifts to pull me closer.

His hand rests on my hip in a possessive way.

I swallow back a desire to lean into him more, to rest my head against his chest, or to tilt my head back and let him graze his lips along my jaw and my neck.

I’m pretty sure the temperature is something like a thousand degrees in here.

Will shifts again, so slightly if I wasn’t deeply aware of every motion between us, I wouldn’t have noticed.

He inches his arm a little further around my back, his fingers splayed along the bottom of my ribcage.

Our legs brush now with every sway. My gaze travels up from where he’s holding me, along his chest where our hands are entwined and up to his face.

I can’t say his expression is soft, the way Charlie stared at my sister.

He’s hard to read, probably the reason I jump to conclusions with him far too often.

But the fact that I control my expressions so much makes it easier to see the tells in his, now that I’m looking.

His jaw is tight, like he’s holding something in.

Thankfully I’m not the only one here struggling with our silence and the weight that’s like pressure between us.

His eyes though, they dance across my face, and his stare is powerful enough that it feels like a touch—on my eyes, to my lips, across my cheeks, back to my eyes, then my lips again.

The tension is nothing like it has been in the past. It’s heated in a different way, no anger. It’s like we need to move closer to make it go away.

That’s how I find myself making the next move to get us closer. I lean into him, and his eyes find my lips again.

Is it insane that I’m tempted to push to my tiptoes to kiss him?

Every interaction we’ve had before this has been us snapping at each other, except for midnight at Charlie’s when my sister was sick.

And this is the same thing as that moment—low lights and a romantic setting distracting us from what’s real.

We’d be a mess! I shout at myself, trying to work some sense into my brain. He’s grumpy and judgy.

Only, that’s not the whole story with him.

This is such a bad idea, and still I’m moving into him. Living in this moment and the magic between us. I don’t care what happens after tonight. I only want to know what’s going to happen next.

He tilts his head toward me. I rise to my tiptoes.

Not here, I think, even though a fog clouds my brain, begging me to find out what his lips would feel like on mine. Not now. If we have to explore this kiss or get it out of our system, the middle of a dance floor surrounded by his teammates is not the place.

I put a hand on his chest, stalling us. “We—” Will stops me with a shake of his head. He slips one of his hands from where he held mine, both hands gripping my waist .

“No talking,” he says, his voice husky.

I can’t help the airy laugh that escapes. “Will?—”

He shakes his head again and leans down.

The song ends in a fading note, and applause and shouts erupt around us. The music shifts into an upbeat breakup song.

And our moment is gone.