Page 3

The moment Reed’s arms come around me, I understand why people write songs about dancing.

His hand settles on the small of my back, warm and sure, while his other hand engulfs mine completely.

We’re not doing anything fancy, just swaying to the music, but there’s something intimate about the way he holds me, like he’s afraid I might disappear if he doesn’t keep me close.

“Your friends are watching,” he murmurs near my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

I glance over his shoulder and catch sight of Mia, Sarah, and Emma huddled together at our table, not even pretending to look anywhere else. Emma gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up when she sees me looking.

“They’re not exactly subtle,” I admit, turning back to find Reed’s eyes on me. This close, I can see flecks of green in the blue, can count the faint lines around his eyes that speak of years of life I have no idea about.

“Good friends?” he asks.

“The best. They’ve been plotting this weekend for months, convinced I needed to ‘cut loose’ after finishing my dissertation.” I realize how that sounds and quickly add, “Not that this was part of their plan. The cutting loose part, I mean. This is just...”

“Happy accident?”

“Yes.” I smile.

The song shifts to something slower, and Reed pulls me closer. Not inappropriately so, but enough that I can feel the solid warmth of his chest against mine, can smell that clean scent that’s been driving me slightly crazy since I first approached him at the bar.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

“Shoot.”

“What’s the longest you’ve ever spent not thinking about work?”

The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, when’s the last time you went a whole day—hell, a whole hour—without thinking about your research or your dissertation or what comes next?

” His thumb traces a small circle on my back, and I have to concentrate to focus on his words instead of the way that simple touch is making me feel.

“Because I’ve been watching you tonight, and you seem like someone who thinks a lot. ”

He’s not wrong. Even now, part of my brain is cataloging his behavior, filing away observations about athlete psychology and the way he can see me for who I am. It’s an occupational hazard I’ve never been able to turn off.

“You want an honest answer?”

“Always.”

“I can’t remember.” It should embarrass me, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes honesty feel safe. “Even tonight, even here, I keep analyzing everything. It’s like I can’t turn my brain off.”

“What are you analyzing right now?”

“You.” The word slips out before I can stop it. “The way you hold yourself, the way you talk about your career like it’s something that happens to you instead of something you control. The fact that you asked me to dance instead of just suggesting we go somewhere more private.”

“Would you have said yes if I’d suggested somewhere more private?”

The question hangs between us. The smart answer is no. The safe answer is no. But standing here in his arms, feeling more alive than I have in months, smart and safe feel overrated.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“What situation is that?”

“Being attracted to someone I just met. Actually, being attracted to someone period. It’s been a while since I’ve let myself even look at someone.”

Something shifts in his expression at that confession. His hand tightens slightly on my back, and when he speaks, his voice is rougher than it was before.

“How long is a while?”

“Long enough that I’m probably out of practice at this whole flirting thing.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re doing just fine.”

The song ends, but instead of stepping back, Reed keeps his arms around me. The next song starts, something with a more upbeat tempo, but we continue our slow sway like we haven’t noticed the change.

“I should really get back to my friends,” I say, though I make no move to leave his arms.

“Should you?” His thumb is still tracing those maddening circles on my back. “Or do you want to?”

“There’s a difference?”

“There’s always a difference.” He leans down so his lips are closer to my ear. “What do you want?”

The way he says that does something to me, makes me want things I haven’t wanted in years. Makes me want to be reckless, spontaneous, everything I’ve never been. Hell, it sounds like he’s daring me to do just that.

“I want to keep dancing,” I whisper.

“Then we keep dancing.”

I lean on his shoulder as we dance through three more songs, our conversation flowing as easily as our movement. He tells me about growing up in Minnesota, about learning to skate before he could ride a bike. I tell him about my undergraduate years at UC Berkeley.

With each song, we move closer together.

What started as a respectable distance between our bodies gradually disappears until there’s no space left at all.

His hand has migrated from the small of my back to rest just above the curve of my hip, and mine has found its way to the back of his neck, fingers playing with the soft hair there.

“I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to know you can say no,” he says during a particularly quiet moment between songs.

My heart starts beating faster. “Okay.”

“Would you like to get out of here? Maybe grab some coffee, walk around, see the city?” He pauses, his eyes searching mine. “I’m not ready for this to end.”

I should say no. I should go back to my friends, stick to the plan, be responsible Dr. Chelsea Clark who makes good decisions and doesn’t follow strange men around Vegas at midnight.

Instead, I find myself nodding.

“Yes,” I say, surprising myself with how certain I sound. “I’d like that.”

His smile is beautiful, relieved, and something else I can’t quite identify. “Let me just settle our tab.”

As he guides me back toward the bar, I catch sight of my friends. Emma raises her eyebrows in a silent question, and I give her a small nod. She grins and makes a shooing motion with her hands, clearly giving me permission to abandon them for the night.

While Reed handles the check, I head over to their table to grab my purse.

“So?” Mia demands before I’ve even reached them.

“So I’m going to explore Vegas with a very nice hockey player.”

“Just explore?” Sarah asks with a wicked grin.

“Just explore,” I confirm, though the flush in my cheeks probably gives away that I’m hoping for more than just sightseeing.

“Text us,” Emma says, suddenly serious. “I know you’re an adult and you can take care of yourself, but text us so we know you’re okay.”

“I will.” I hug each of them quickly. “Thank you. For tonight, for this weekend, for making me wear this ridiculous tiara.”

“Thank the tiara,” Mia says. “I don’t think he would have noticed you without it.”

I touch the plastic crown I’d forgotten I was still wearing. “Should I take it off?”

“Absolutely not,” they chorus, and I laugh despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach.

Reed appears at my side, his hand finding the small of my back in a gesture that’s already becoming familiar. “Ready?”

I look back at my friends one more time, these women who’ve known me since college and who’ve spent the last six years watching me disappear into my research. They’re all grinning at me like they’ve just won the lottery.

“Ready,” I tell Reed, and realize I actually mean it.

As we walk toward the exit, Reed leans down to speak quietly in my ear. “For the record, I’m glad you kept the tiara.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it was the first thing that made me notice you weren’t like everyone else in here.”

I’m still trying to process that comment when we step out into the warm Vegas night, the city spread out before us like a playground of possibilities.