Shelf Awareness: Green Valley Library Book #4 Page 13

  After adjusting my skirt and giving my bun a quick pat, I let Zeke lead me into the room. As soon as the door closed behind us, I exhaled the clichéd breath I’d been holding. Everything I had pictured in my mind immediately vanished. It wasn’t a dimly lit room with couples wildly gyrating against each other. While there were couples out on the floor, they weren’t humping each other through their costumes. With Thriller pumping in from the DJ, people were laughing while trying to imitate the moves that went along with the video.

  Dare I admit it actually looked fun?

  Besides those dancing, other people hung out at the bar or sat at some of the tables. Another thing I hadn’t expected was it wasn’t so couple oriented. People stood talking in clusters of all men or women or some were combined. It certainly helped me to breathe a lot easier.

  “Want to get a drink?” Zeke asked.

  “I’d love to.”

  As we wove our way through the crowd, Zeke nodded and spoke to people. I watched in awe as he was able to so effortlessly work the room. When we reached the bar, I couldn’t help asking, “Wait, do you actually know any of these people?”

  “Nope. Not a soul.”

  I eyed him in surprise. “Man, you really are working the Southern gentleman vibe over tonight, aren’t you?”

  Zeke laughed. “Hey, now, I’m always friendly.”

  “Yes, but don’t forget you were a little mysterious too.”

  He grinned. “Maybe it’s the Force helping me tonight.”

  “Oh, that must be it,” I teasingly replied.

  When we finally had the bartender’s attention, we ordered our drinks. Turning around, I leaned back against the bar and surveyed the room.

  After a few minutes passed, Zeke cocked his head at me. “What do you think?”

  “It’s not what I had imagined.”

  “For the better or the worse?” he teased.

  “The better. I had no idea there would be so many people, or that it wouldn’t seem like a party.”

  “It’s really more of a get-together of the fandoms than a party. People like to talk about their favorite shows or books more than they like to dance.”

  “Or hook-up?”

  “Well, I’m not going to say that doesn’t happen.” A slow grin curved on his lips. “Wherever there’s alcohol and people enclosed in small spaces, it’s bound to happen.”

  Hmm, has it happened with you? I had to bite my tongue to keep from asking. Deep down, I knew it was more than likely, considering Zeke’s looks and personality. “Ah, so there are cosplay groupies? Like a Captain America hottie grabbing all the women’s attention?”

  “Yes and no. You’d be surprised at some of the men or women who garner a lot of attention.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Guys who wouldn’t garner a second glance out of costume become gods at some of the big conventions.”

  “That’s . . .” I searched for the appropriate word that wouldn’t insult Zeke and his cosplay love.

  “Insane?” he suggested.

  “No, no, I was thinking surprising.”

  “Really? I’ve always thought it was pretty insane.”

  I giggled. “Really when it boils down to it, everyone should get to feel wanted and desired sometime in their lives. If it means donning a costume, so be it.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  At the look burning in his eyes, I dipped my head and took a long sip of my vodka cranberry. Was he thinking what I thought he was thinking, or was I thinking totally out in left field? As the alcohol burned a trail down my throat, two women approached me. “Evie O’Connell from The Mummy, right?” the one dressed like Captain Marvel asked.

  “That’s Evelyn Carnahan. She doesn’t become Evie O’Connell until the sequel,” her friend, Wonder Woman, corrected her.

  Grinning, I replied, “Yes, you’re both right.”

  “Great costume. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in the stores,” Captain Marvel remarked.

  “Thanks. My grandmother helped me make it.”

  Wonder Woman’s eyes widened. “Is she in the scene?”

  I furrowed my brows. “The scene? Oh, you mean does she do dress-up.”

  “Cosplay,” Wonder Woman corrected good-naturedly.

  Shit. I’d already said something potentially embarrassing in front of Zeke. “No, she doesn’t do cosplay.”

  “With her eye for detail, she should totally get involved.”

  In my mind, I knew it would be a cold day in July before GramBea would ever parade around in a costume. She was just too set in her ways to try anything new, not to mention something completely outside her comfort-zone. But I knew I couldn’t say that to them. “Maybe I can talk her into it,” I replied diplomatically.

  With a wink, Zeke said, “Look at you making cosplay friends.”

  “I’ll be alienating them just as fast if I keep calling it dress-up.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s an honest mistake made by a newbie.”

  “Ah, so my comment alone illustrated how new I am to the scene?”

  “Pretty much.” He winked at me. “But I hope you don’t think she was being petty or malicious.”

  “No, of course not. I just didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  Zeke appeared momentarily taken aback. “Wait a minute. You thought that would embarrass me?”

  With a nod, I replied, “I know how important this is to you, so I don’t want to do or say anything wrong.”

  “Finley, I couldn’t care less if you streaked through here naked. All that matters to me is you’re having a good time.”

  Well then. That certainly wasn’t what I was expecting him to say, and it sure as hell wasn’t all about the streaking naked part. Nibbling on my lip, I couldn’t help wondering was he really sincere, or was he just saying that to make me feel better? Regardless, it was a foreign concept to not have to worry about embarrassing the man I was with. Grant would have died a thousand deaths if I’d said something to embarrass him in front of his friends.

  At my silence, Zeke peered at me. “Did I say something wrong?”

  I furiously shook my head. “No, you didn’t. I was just thinking it was a foreign concept to not have to worry about being an embarrassment.”

  Zeke’s expression darkened. “Your ex really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “I’d love to get a hold of him.”

  “He’d probably like that,” I teasingly replied, trying to lighten the mood.

  With a laugh, Zeke replied, “Unless he had a secretive BDSM side, he wouldn’t like me working him over.”

  I couldn’t help smiling at Zeke. “Aw, my hero.”

  “Just say the word, and I’ll trade my Luke costume for Superman.”

  Dropping my gaze down his body, I nodded. “I’d kinda like to see you rocking the tights.”

  Zeke wagged his brows. “Once again, just the say the word.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Since I was starting to feel a little warm, not from the conversation and not from the alcohol, I cleared my throat and fought the urge to fan myself. “Speaking of costumes, tell me why you chose Luke?”

  Flashing me a grin, Zeke replied, “Isn’t that one easy? I’m a Star Wars nerd.”

  I shook my head. “You could’ve gone with Han Solo or Kylo Ren or even Darth Maul?”

  Zeke swept a hand to his heart. “Ooh, you’re talking nerdy to me with your character knowledge.”

  With a laugh, I replied, “My brother was a huge fan. When we were growing up, I played Princess Leia more times than I like to admit.”

  “Rebel Leia or Slave-Girl Leia?” Zeke asked with a grin.

  I wrinkled my nose. “Uh, yeah, that would be A New Hope Leia. That would be all kinds of weird if I’d been running around in a metal bikini with my brother.”

  Zeke laughed. “Very true. Now if you’d decided to wear one tonight, that wouldn’t have been weird at all.”

&
nbsp; “Seriously? I can barely bring myself to wear a one-piece suit, least of all a bikini.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “You would totally rock a bikini.”

  I blinked at him. “Now I know why you picked Luke. You’re always going to be one of the good guys.”

  Zeke groaned. “Come on now. Don’t pin me with the curse of the nice guy.”

  “I said you were good.”

  “Isn’t it the same thing?”

  “Even if it is, why wouldn’t you want to be the nice guy?”

  “Because being labeled a nice guy is repellant for women.”

  “Maybe for some women, but it isn’t for all of them.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m serious. I never understood in books or movies or even in real life, why girls wanted the bad boy.”

  Zeke quirked his brows at me. “You’ve seriously never dated a bad boy?”

  “Nope.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  “Trust me, considering how little I dated before I met Grant, I would remember.”

  Shaking his head, Zeke replied, “How is it you didn’t date much?”

  “Oh, you flatterer.”

  “I’m serious. I don’t know what I need to say to make you believe you’re a real catch.”

  I gulped. “I am?”

  “Yeah, you sure as hell are. I could start listing off your desirable qualities right now.”

  “Seriously, you really don’t have to do this.”

  “Nope. I’m not letting you off the hook until you believe me.” Zeke placed both of his hands on my shoulders. “Finley Granger, you’re smart and funny and kind. You have a giving heart and sweet spirit. You’re willing to take risks like coming with me tonight. I can’t imagine any man who wouldn’t want to date you.”

  Holy shit. The world slowed to crawl around me, and I found myself struggling to breathe. Since my mouth had completely run dry, I took another swig of my drink. Once I’d recovered, I stared at Zeke. “That was . . .” I shook my head. “I don’t even have the words.”

  “Then I’ll merely say you’re welcome.”

  “Yes. Thanks.” After another sip of alcohol, I said, “You know, I think the same things could be said about you. Well, everything except the taking risks thing.”

  “Trust me, I take risks.”

  “Deep down, I wouldn’t doubt it.”

  “For example, I’ll take a risk and ask you to dance right now.”

  I winced. “You want to dance?”

  With a grin, Zeke said, “I believe I asked you first.”

  “True. The whole taking risks thing.”

  “Exactly.” He glanced out on the dance floor. “Would you prefer a slow one to a fast one?”

  Good Lord, was that a loaded question. Normally, I would’ve only considered dancing to a slow song because I was well aware of how ridiculous I looked, trying to do the latest moves to an upbeat tempo. However, accepting a slow dance meant I would be encouraging Zeke to have his arms on me while we were pressed close together. In my way of thinking, a slow dance somehow surpassed “just friends.” Of course, I was usually one to read too much into things.

  “Uh, yeah, a slow dance would be better.”

  Giving me a pointed look, Zeke replied, “You do know we don’t have to dance at all.”

  “I know.”

  “The last thing I want to do during your first cosplay experience is make you uncomfortable.”

  I waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

  “Looking like you were about to throw up as you weighed your dancing options would say otherwise.”

  Shit. I forgot how easy it was for him to read me. “Sorry. I’m just not much of a dancer.”

  “Then we won’t dance,” Zeke replied diplomatically.

  Well fuck my neurotic side for ruining a potential feel-up. Why did I have to be such an idiot? Subconsciously, I was desperate to dance with Zeke. Since I didn’t want to let the moment pass us by, I shook my head. “No. Tonight is all about taking risks. So, let’s dance.”

  Zeke snorted. “The point is to enjoy taking the risks. Not look like you’re signing up for the Foreign Legion or something along those lines.”

  “But you have to leap before you can experience the jump, right?”

  “I suppose so.”

  I plunked my empty drink down on the bar. “Then let’s do it.”

  “Okay. But only if you’re serious.”

  To prove myself, I walked past Zeke over to the edge of the dance floor. After I threw a look at him over my shoulder, he nodded and then closed the gap between us. The DJ was playing what I assumed to be one of the latest R&B hits. But just as Zeke took my hand, the song thumped to an end, and it was replaced by a sensuous beat.

  Fucking hell. While I’d known a slow song was a possibility, I was hoping to work up to it. Not that my fast dancing skills were much better. They were pretty much on par with Elaine from Seinfeld. Regardless of my apprehension, I was all in.

  After Zeke slid his arms around my waist, he drew me flush against him. With my five nine height against his six three, we were a bit off-centered. My breasts became plastered slightly below his pecs while my vajayjay hit just below his crotch. If we had been closer in height, we could have experienced some interesting friction. However, I couldn’t say brushing against his rock-hard thighs wasn’t pleasing to my terribly male-deprived vag.

  For a few breathless moments, I closed my eyes and tried shutting out all the voices of doubt in my head. The ones that constantly questioned what was going on between us or if I was making a fool out of myself. More than anything, I wanted to enjoy the feel of Zeke’s hands on me and our bodies close together. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed the feel of a man’s hands on me and not in only a sexual way. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice feeling desired again, but it went deeper than that. Although I’d been a figurative Superwoman in many ways these past few months, I welcomed the feeling of protection that came from Zeke’s embrace. Not only did it give me comfort, but somehow it made me feel young and free again. Like those easy days of school dances when your crush would cross the room to ask you for a dance.

  It had been a long time since I’d danced with a man without any true strings attached. While I was married, I didn’t mind taking the occasional turn around the floor with Grant. In those early years, it was immensely enjoyable. But now in Zeke’s arms, I realized there had been a difference in those last years, dancing with Grant. The way our bodies molded together was totally different. It was almost like . . . an obligation.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  “You just tensed a little.”

  Gazing up into Zeke’s face, I gave him an apologetic smile. While it would’ve been easy to simply lie about what I was feeling, I knew he deserved the truth. “Sorry. I was focusing on the ghosts of the past when I should have been in the present.”

  “It’s okay. Just make sure you stay here with me and all the other dressed-up freaks.”

  A laugh bubbled from my lips. “You know, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say about us.”

  “Maybe. But it did lighten the mood, didn’t it?”

  “Yes. I thank you for that.”

  “My pleasure.”

  As I continued swaying to the music with Zeke, I pushed any negative thoughts from my mind and enjoyed the moment. The song came to an end and was replaced by a fast paced one. Zeke cocked his brows at me. “Are we doing this?”

  “Might as well.”

  Normally, I would have been paranoid about what a fool I was making of myself, but there was something so calming about being with Zeke. Maybe it was because of his easygoing demeanor. Maybe it was because everyone looked somewhat ridiculous boogying around in head to toe costumes. Slowly, my self-consciousness began to evaporate, and I started to really enjoy myself.

  We danced and dance
d until my feet were killing me and I had sweat trailing down unmentionable places. Finally, I needed to beg off to take a break. “We should probably get some dinner,” Zeke suggested as we started off the dance floor.

  He then directed to me to the buffet. As I took in all the food, I grinned at Zeke. “You cosplay people aren’t playing.” Motioning to the catering, I replied, “This is an epic spread.”

  “Didn’t I tell you we were something special?”

  I nodded as he handed me a plate. “You did. And I’m ashamed to admit I was highly skeptical about you guys.”

  “You thought I had drunk too much of the Kool Aid?”

  With a laugh, I replied, “Pretty much, yes.”

  “Trust me, you’ll find after tonight, you’ll have sipped enough to be hooked.”

  Oh, I’m totally hooked on you and anything you do. “There could be worse things in life, I suppose.”

  As we ate our dinner, conversation flowed as freely as it had at The Front Porch. Once we finished, we talked to some of the other couples at the tables around us. I don’t know if it was because we were in the South or if it was true of cosplayers, but everyone was so nice and welcoming. It was easy to see why Zeke had such an affinity for the scene.

  Once we were alone again at the table, Zeke glanced at his phone. “We should probably head back.”

  Since it didn’t feel too late, I reached over and took his phone from him. After peering at the screen, I looked back at him. “It’s not even eleven o’clock.”

  “I know. I just don’t want to get you home too late.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m thirty years old, Zeke. I don’t have a curfew.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.” With a sheepish grin, he added, “I just don’t want to get on your grandmother’s bad side.”

  “Are you seriously telling me that a strapping man as yourself is afraid of my diminutive little grandmother?”

  He nodded. “Yep. I sure as hell am.”