“I’ll dance for her,” I tell him, my shoulders starting to move to the country song playing over the speakers at 10-42.
“No.”
The word is permanent, Brody’s tone indicating there should be no argument.
Lucky for him, I’m full of arguments right now.
“Why not?” I scoff, my entire upper body now moving to the beat. My feet, back in my beloved cowboy boots, are starting to tap on the floor. “It’s how I wooed her in the first place.”
Brody snorts. “The hat persuaded her. Not you.”
My hand slams against my chest like I’ve just taken a blow. I have. “You wound me.”
He doesn’t deign to answer me. Just throws the rest of his beer back. I don’t care. The music—like the beer—is starting to flow through me, and I push my chair back, getting to my feet. The song is a quick, upbeat clip that would be fun to swing Bryn around to, but to convince Brody it’s a good idea, I’ll have to do it solo.
My whole body moves to the music, my hips getting in on the action. We picked a table right near the small dance floor, and I step away so I can do a spin.
“See? I’d totally get her back with these moves!”
“Or send her running.”
“Fuck you,” I say with a laugh. “You know what would really get her if she saw it?”
I don’t bother to wait for an answer, because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t actually want to know. Doesn’t matter to me, I’m going to show him anyway.
This time I spin slower, circling my hips at the same time, andwith one hand I undo my belt. Brody lets out a yell of protest, but it’s too late, I yank at the leather, and in one smooth movement that I’ve practiced numerous times for socials, my belt comes free from my jeans.
“Oh my god,” a voice from another table squeals.
A louder one shouts, “Yes, cowboy!”
My arms spread out wide in victory as I look at Brody. “See! I told you, man! If she saw these moves, she’d have no choice but to take me back. It’s a good plan.”
“You plan on using your belt to tie her up?” he asks, eyeing it as I swing it around while I dance.
I grin at him. It’s not a bad idea, but something tells me that wouldn’t be her style. “A gentleman never tells.”
“I meant to keep her around after those dance moves,” he retorts.
“Fuck you,” I tell him again with a laugh, because it seems to be the only retort my brain can come up with right now. “I’m amazing.”
“You know if it weren’t for you being with Bryn, I’d ask if you wanted to be in the auction in October,” Savanna says, appearing next to Brody with two fresh beers for us. “The ladies are already going crazy for your moves.”
Brody lifts his beer. “He got dumped.”
The words come out casually, like they won’t burst the bubble I’ve been creating for myself in my delusions.
“What?” Savanna gasps, her eyes bouncing between the two of us.
My dancing ends, and I fall back into my seat, heaving a sigh. Dropping my head back, I scrub both hands over my face. Did he really need to say it to someone? It makes it more real. Especially since Savanna and Bryn are so close.
“Wyatt, what happened?” Savanna asks, pulling out a chair.
I guess this means Bryn hasn’t been shouting it from the rooftops.
Then again, it’s only been a few hours.
“You’re a dick,” I tell Brody, sitting up to grab my new beer. Chugging half of it, I let out an ‘ahhh,’ then finally bring my eyes to Savanna. “She has priorities.”