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Jack and I’ve never been awkward around each other, even if I have been crushing on him hard since the day we met. He has always treated me like any other parent, much to my dismay…

Until he let the mask slip, and I got a peek behind that sexy curtain.

“There you are,” Dylan yells over the music. “It’s about time you came for dinner. Want some Pepper X chili?”

Jack holds up a hand. “No, thanks.”

“Hi, Jack.” My voice is weird, so I clear my throat. “Hey, Liv, and little Miss Gigi.”

“Say ‘Hey, Miss Allie,’” Liv waves her baby girl’s arm, but Gigi is wiggling to get down.

Reaching into the tub, I take out a cup of vanilla ice cream and hold it out to Liv. “Need this?”

“Maybe.” She takes it before chasing after her two-year-old, who’s heading straight to the bar where her daddy is dancing.

A laugh puffs through my lips, and I turn to see Jack watching me. The intensity of his gaze makes the skin on my neck prickle.

“Let me help you.” He takes the plastic bin from my hands, turning to follow his sister into the kitchen.

My arms fall to my sides, and I walk behind him to where Dylan stands at the large silver table, transferring the leftover chili into a plastic bowl.

“Chili for you, Thomas?” she calls to our old friend, who’s grilling burgers while he watches sports on his small, black-and-white television set.

“No, ma’am,” he answers in his low voice. “You know I stay away from all that foolishness.”

“Smart man.” Logan enters through the back screen door, patting Thomas’s shoulder as he passes. “Got a burger for me?”

“Always do. One for Coach Jack, too.”

Jack straightens from where he emptied the ice cream cups into the bin in the freezer, and he’s so good-looking with that gray T-shirt stretching over his broad shoulders and those faded jeans hugging his tight ass just right .

It’s the end of the week, and he seems more relaxed than before—when he’s not looking at me with the intensity of a thousand suns.

“Ready for tomorrow?” Logan punches him lightly on the shoulder. “I expect you-know-who will be back, ready to hear your starting lineup.”

“I’m ready.” Jack adjusts his ball cap.

“George Powell had better watch his mouth.” Dylan snaps the plastic lid onto the chili, then walks around the table to stretch up and kiss her husband. “We’ll all be out there with the drill team, and if he so much as looks in Allie’s direction?—”

“He won’t,” Jack interrupts, a touch of flint in his tone.

Logan wraps his arms around his petite wife, hugging her close. “Did you set Oliver straight with your dish tonight?”

“He gave me a thumbs-up.” She lifts her chin in defiance.

They’re so sweet, I’m getting a toothache, and when I look at Jack, he blinks away from me, going to the door. “I’d better check on Kimmie.”

“She’s at the pool tables with Austin and Edward,” I say as he approaches where I’m standing. “I’ll go with you.”

He stops to hold the door for me, and my bottom lip goes between my teeth. More heat prickles my skin as I pass close to his chest.

When we enter the large space, the lights are lowered, and a disco ball sends sparkles around the room. The music is more mellow, slower country, and the song is “Strawberry Wine” by Deana Carter.

Jack and I both pause, watching all the couples dancing together on the floor. I’ve never slow-danced on a Dare Night, mostly because I’ve always been too busy helping Dylan serve and then clean up, but tonight, I could be persuaded. If the right guy were asking.

We’re standing side by side when Logan leads Dylan past us, out onto the floor .

“I love this song,” she coos, putting her hands on her husband’s broad shoulders. “Jack, dance with Allie!”

It’s like a splash of water in my face, and a little “Oh!” jumps from my lips.

It’s a silly response, considering we’ve walked down the aisle together in every one of his sibling’s weddings, but after this week, what I used to believe was only friendship—with me dying on the inside every time he smiled—is now something a lot more serious and potentially more explosive.

“Screw what he said,” Logan calls from the floor. “You two can’t be the only ones not dancing.”

I look around the room to see Liv and Garrett moving together like Johnny and Baby. Zane has Rachel hugged to his chest, and even Craig and Clint are dancing near the bar.

Jack turns to face me, holding out his hand. “I guess we’re dancing.”

It’s not a question, and I put my hand in his, stepping closer. “Looks like it.”

He leads me into the group, putting a large hand on my waist and holding my other hand in his as he surveys the room.

We’re not hugged up like our married friends. We sway side to side like a couple of middle schoolers, with me chewing my bottom lip as I sneak a glance up at him.

He meets my eyes with a curious expression then leans closer, speaking in my ear. “Is this okay?”

Chills skate down my arms, and I answer in a high voice. “Of course!”

Then Garrett and Liv glide up next to us, and Garrett gives me a little push, sending me closer into Jack’s chest.

“What is this, The Mickey Mouse Club ?” he taunts. “Put your arm around her, man.”

My cheeks burn red. My nose is in the center of Jack’s chest, and I realize he went home and showered after practice. He smells delicious, like leather and sandalwood .

I sneak another glance up at him, and he wraps his arm around my waist, holding me close in a warm embrace.

He leans down to speak in my ear again, and again, it’s a cascade of chills down my body. “Is this okay?”

I nod, lifting my chin. “I guess they’ll all be talking about us now.”

The song slowly drifts to an end, and Beyoncé’s “II Most Wanted” comes on.

Jack takes my hand, leading me off the floor. “If they’re going to talk, we might as well make the most of it.”

I’m not sure what he means, but he gives my hand a little pull. I follow him in the direction of the small playground out behind the restaurant.

A screen door in the middle of the dining room leads to the fenced-in, sandy lot, and I look back over my shoulder to see who might be watching us.

The room is so crowded with dancers, we’re pretty much hidden from the people sitting at the tables and in booths, and the dancers are way more focused on their partners than on us.

So I follow him out into the night, my heart thumping like a rabbit in my chest.