It was at that moment one of Winnie’s bridesmaids felt compelled to twerk. On Leighton’s ass. A strangled gasp emerged from her mouth and she felt sandwiched between a rock and a hard place. Trapped between a jiggly female booty and a very firm, very unrelenting stripper cop, Leighton had no idea where to go or what to do. She felt the telltale rush of heat up her neck and to her temples, the one that said she was about to have a full-blown panic attack.
Her expression must have revealed her distress because the man said, “It’s okay. Take a deep breath.”
Then he firmly gripped her upper arms and moved her away from the twerking and to the rear of the stage. She tried to speak again but nothing came out. She had no idea what she would say anyway when he wrapped his arm around her lower waist and drew her against him, snug and tight against his chest. Her hands were trapped between her chest and his and she felt the warmth of his bare skin. She really wished he was wearing a shirt. It was too intimate, so she actually shifted her hands to his biceps and looked up at him, wondering what he was doing but too freaked out to really care.
He was a solid, manly anchor, mooring her to the floor in the midst of her crashing waves of anxiety.
“Listen to the music,” he said. “Focus on the beat.” He moved her hips slowly with his to the pounding bass of the pop song playing.
He had sharp cheekbones that she studied, mesmerized by him. His eyes were a deep rich amber, with flecks of gold around the pupils. Leighton drew a breath in through her nose and tried to relax. The sounds of the room had receded. It was the feel of his hands on her waist, the sway of their bodies together, his confident, take-charge expression that she focused on. It was clear he had seen her panic and he was helping her calm down. It struck her as unbelievably intuitive and kind. She wasn’t sure she had ever had a total stranger read her and step in immediately.
Leighton knew the song and she found her voice again, softly singing along with the lyrics to distract herself. This wasn’t a song most people would slow dance to, yet she and this man were and it felt right. Easy. Separate from the booty grinding and excited screaming behind her. She was facing him and the wall behind him, not the bar, and she felt the panic recede. She had passed the moment of danger where she might have gone into a full-blown attack.
The song wound down and she pulled back, grateful but ready to get off the stage. “Thank you for that,” she said, assuming he would know what she meant. “I’m Leighton.”
“Axl. Pleasure to meet you.” He didn’t smile. But he did release her.
Leighton shivered. Even his name was sexy. “You, too. Seriously, thank you.”
Then before she could get roped into staying on stage for another song, she got the hell out there, jumping down the two steps with a speed she hadn’t known she was capable of.
Jackson was filming.
“I better not be in that frame,” she said as she flung herself into her chair and wished like hell a glass of wine would mysteriously appear in her hand.
“Nice moves,” he commented, setting his camera down on the floor beside him. “I’ve never seen anyone slow dance to Cardi B.”
“I’m not discussing this,” she said. “Ever.”
Jackson snorted. “You know how Sadie likes to give everyone office nicknames? I think yours is about to be changed to Dancing Queen.”
Still flushed, Leighton said in pure exasperation, “Yours is going to be Dickhead.”
Given that she rarely swore or stood up for herself Jackson was so stunned he just about fell out of his chair laughing.
It actually made the corner of her mouth turn up. The stripper cop had saved her ass, but from Jackson’s perspective it must have been bizarre as hell. “I guess I can live with Dancing Queen. It’s better than my current nickname.”
“Agreed. Amazon Prime is a wonderful thing, but not when your boss is calling you that.”
Leighton pulled her phone out, checking to see if she had missed any calls. “No, it’s not.” Sadie thought it was clever. She liked to say she could get anything from Leighton in two days or less.
Winnie and her friends came back to the table, laughing and reaching for their cocktails. Leighton went back to work, discussing with Jackson how to set up an interview with Winnie.
But she felt eyes on her and she glanced over at the bar.
The stripper cop was watching her.
A shiver rolled up her back and heat pooled between her thighs.
Yum.
That’s all she could think. Just yum.
* * *
“Who is that girl?” Axl Moore asked his best friend and owner of Tap That, Sullivan O’Toole. “The one I was dancing with.”
“I have no idea,” Sullivan said. “I’ve never seen her before.” He was behind the bar as usual, serving both customers and himself. He shrugged, like he couldn’t care less. Which he probably couldn’t.
Sullivan had been no stranger to the bottle since his wife Kendra had died from breast cancer two years earlier at twenty-seven. This was the second year Axl and the other guys from high school had done this entertaining charity strip event in Kendra’s memory. Sullivan seemed a little less annoyed by it than he had the previous year when they’d done it, but he still refused to participate in the choreographed, albeit bumbling, routine they did.
“If you don’t know her, she must be new in town.”
Sullivan knew everyone from being the bar owner.
“She’s… different,” Axl said. He meant it in a good way. She seemed delicate, like his grandmother’s tea set. Look, don’t touch. It wasn’t that she was waifish. She was actually sporting a true hourglass figure, which he thought was sexy as hell. His hands had felt enormous on her tiny waist and she had been substantially shorter than him, but that full chest had been a thing of beauty. Damn. Axl searched the room for her and found her sitting next to a skinny guy with shaggy hair and glasses. Maybe that was her boyfriend. More her type than he was, probably, not that he was thinking anything in that direction.
Not much, anyway.
She just had him curious. That was all. Not much changed in Beaver Bend. Not many new faces. A new resident was note-worthy. Especially one with an unusual name, wearing a pastel cocktail dress in Tap That.
Lilly, Kendra’s best friend, sat down on the stool next to Axl. “Who are we talking about?”
“Leighton. The girl I was dancing with. Who is she?” They hadn’t been dancing so much as he had been holding her up. She had been on the verge of a panic attack. He recognized the signs. His best buddy in the marines had endured them frequently after their deployment.
“She’s part of the crew for that TV show, Wedding Crashers. Winnie won a wedding makeover.”
So not a new resident then. He had vaguely heard something about that, but to be honest, weddings didn’t interest him, so he’d zoned out on the details. “How long are they in town?”
He shouldn’t ask. But he couldn’t seem to stop himself. For some reason his mother’s text popped into his head. Maybe you’ll meet a nice girl. Leighton looked like a nice girl. With a body built for sin.
“Until the wedding next Saturday. I imagine they leave on Sunday. Gives you eight plus days.” Lilly gave him a sidelong stare. “Got the hots for the California girl, huh? Doesn’t seem like your type.”
“What is my type?” he asked automatically because he didn’t really have one, he didn’t think. But what he did know was that girl did not seem like a Hollywood type. She had been genuinely scared to be thrust up on stage in front of everyone. It was classic stage fright.
“Outdoorsy. Athletic.”
Axl reflected on that. “Guess I can’t argue that.” He loved camping, fishing, boating. Anything that allowed him to be outside. He’d always been into nature, even more so now that he’d come home after his enlistment. Walls closed in on him. He needed to see the sky. “So, like you?” he said wryly. Lilly was a guy’s girl. Everyone’s buddy. She liked to push herself physically and
took no shit from anyone. Except Sullivan. She had a soft spot for that idiot.
Lilly cracked up. “Yes. But no. We’re like brother and sister. I just see you with a woman who can share your hobbies, that’s all.”
“I see him with no one,” Sullivan said, giving him crap. “When was the last time you had a girlfriend? Senior year in high school?”
“Last year, dickhead. I’m selective.” He let that hang there for a second. It was no secret Sullivan had been less than picky in who he had sex with since Kendra had died. He maintained it wasn’t his fault that women came in, drank too much, and wanted to bang, but Axl had known the guy a long time. Since fourth grade. Sullivan was numbing his feelings. Kendra had been his one and only. His first—and what he had thought would be his last—love.
Axl had never had that kind of connection. He had experienced what he would deem nice relationships. Two very pleasant, one a little tumultuous. But not crazy passion or deep, endearing love. Just… nice. A lifelong marriage didn’t seem to be in the cards for him, and he knew it was his fault. He struggled to make deep connections with women, and he spent a lot of his life trying to convince his family and friends there was nothing wrong with that. Not much, anyway.
Sullivan gave a snort. “You’re boring. That’s what you are.”
“Guys, guys, knock it off.” Lilly eyed Axl. “So are you going to make a move on Cali Girl? If so take her a glass of rosé. It’s the in wine right now.”
“I thought only my ancient great aunt liked pink wine. That’s a thing now?”
Lilly nodded and patted his arm. “It’s a thing. I promise. But I don’t expect you, the hockey player turned marine turned cop to understand anything that isn’t laden in testosterone. Don’t worry, I have your back. Pour, Sullivan.”
Axl eyed the glass of wine Sullivan handed him dubiously. “Do I trust her?” he asked.
Sullivan shrugged. “I mean, women drink it here. But do Minnesota tastes reflect California? Fuck if I know.”
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained. But give me a beer too.” He didn’t drink a lot but he was thirsty and a cold beer sounded perfect for the moment. He had put his shirt back on but hadn’t bothered to button it up. He took the time to do that now because he felt like a douche going over there flashing chest. That was more their buddy Rick’s style, not his.
He went over to the table crowded with women and the lone guy, who Axl realized now had a camera sitting in his lap. He knew nothing about weddings but from the manic excitement on Winnie’s face, winning whatever she had won was a huge score. One of the women at the table was Sloane O’Toole, Sullivan’s sister. She worked at the groomer’s with Winnie. He said hi to her then gestured for her to give up her seat for him. She was in the chair to the left of Leighton.
Sloane raised her eyebrows. “I have no idea what that weird expression you’re making means,” she said. “And that wine better be for me.”
“That’s Rick’s job to fetch booze for you, not mine.” Sloane was two years older than the guys and she had been annoyed by all of them in their growing-up years. They were loud, rough and tumble, and then later, they’d all been a little in awe of Sloane, the hot older cheerleader. But none so much as Rick. It had taken him a dozen years but he’d scored his fantasy girl and they really seemed like an awesome couple now. Axl was happy for both of them. “But I can give you this beer if you want. I haven’t even sipped it yet.”
She reached her hand out then paused mid-reach. “Wait. What do I have to do in return?”
He leaned over and murmured so only she could hear him. “Give me your seat so I can talk to the TV chick.”
“Ah. There’s the catch.” Sloane looked amused. “Give me the beer.” She took the bottle from him and stood up. “For the record, she’s not your type.”
“I don’t have a type.” He didn’t even date that much. Why did Sloane and Lilly seem so confident that Leighton was not for him? That was annoying. And good thing the music was pumping some serious bass or she probably would have heard this conversation. “Go find your boyfriend and see what he’s got in his tool belt for you.”
Sloane laughed loudly. She placed her hand on his arm and squeezed. “Safety first, Axl. Wrap it before you tap it.”
His response was a grin. “I’m flattered you think I’m good enough that I’ll need to wrap anything tonight.”
She gave him an eye roll.
Then she was gone and he was dropping into the chair next to Leighton. He set the glass of wine down in front of her. “You look like you needed a drink.”
Leighton turned and stared at him with wide eyes. “I think that seat is taken.”
Not quite the response he was hoping for. “Sloane went to find her boyfriend. It’s my seat now.”
Her mouth opened, but she didn’t say anything. For a long heartbeat they just stared at each other while she seemed uncertain how to proceed. She had long, dark eyelashes, at odds with her blonde hair that fluttered as she looked at him. She was beautiful in a quiet way and he took the moment to study her obviously natural and delicate features. Axl had learned how to be still in the military and it didn’t bother him to just watch her and wait. She would be too polite to tell him to fuck off.
He was right. She broke their gaze and reached for the wine. “Thank you. I am quite thirsty.”
But the cameraman intervened. “Leighton. You shouldn’t drink that. You didn’t watch the bartender pour it.”
For a second Axl was fucking offended. But then he realized the guy had a valid point. They didn’t know him or his character. He would give the same advice to his female friends. She looked torn and a little sheepish.
Axl let her off the hook. “Good call, man,” he said to the guy. “You never know who is a dirt bag. Here, I’ll drink it so you know I’m above board.” He lifted the glass and took the wine down in one long swallow. It was like a bowl of sugar exploding in his mouth. He grimaced. “Shit, that’s sweet. Oh, my God.” His whole face was contorting.
Leighton gave a soft laugh. “Not your drink of choice?”
“Hell, no.” He reached past Leighton and held out his hand for the cameraman. “Axl Moore.”
“Jackson.” He shook his hand.
Then he turned back to Leighton. “If you come up to the bar with me I can get you a drinkable drink.”
“Oh, I don’t know. That’s really sweet, but I have to work. We need to interview Winnie and her friends.”
Axl stared at her for a second. He wasn’t sure if he was being blown off or not, but in either case, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to get to talk to her. “Understood. Well, it was nice to meet you, Leighton. Maybe I’ll see you around town.” If the cameraman wasn’t sitting there acting like he had no clue Axl was making a play for Leighton, he would have asked for her number.
Leighton nodded. “Maybe. And thank you. For what you did. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. You’re a good dancer.”
She smiled. “And you’re sweet.”
“I can’t say sweet would be the word most people use to describe me.” But Axl stood up and gave her a head nod. “Enjoy your night.”
“You too.”
As he walked away he heard the cameraman say, “I’m glad I was here to save your ass. A guy like that? You’ll find yourself with your ankles on his shoulders by midnight.”
Axl’s cock hardened at the thought. Damn right. That had been the plan he’d already been half formulating without even realizing it.
“Would that be a bad thing?” Leighton asked in a curious and high-pitched voice.
Fuck.
He came to a halt and turned back to them. “No. It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all. More like the best way to end your day. And mine.”
Two
She gasped, obviously unaware he’d overheard them. But hey, he had good hearing.
He gave her a dirty, sexy smile and turned back and went to the bar.
The plan was to be there a
ll night. If she wanted to see what a Minnesota man could do in bed, she would find him at some point.
Except that she didn’t.
And he went to bed with blue balls and had dirty-ass dreams about the petite blond with the big green eyes and the perfect cupid’s bow of a mouth.
A mouth that slid deliciously over his cock while she stared up at him with lustful adoration.
He woke up thinking he had to see Leighton again.
Either that or Sullivan was right and he needed to date more often.
He was working a three to eleven shift, so he got up and went for a run along the lake. He’d purposely chosen his house based on its easy access to the water. It was a bungalow, tucked back in the trees. He would have liked a water view, but even in a small town, that cost a premium. He’d been very conservative with his spending over the years and he decided not to blow that standard by getting a house too rich for his blood. But the water was just down the hill and an easy five-minute jog.
Axl had been like a lot of kids growing up in a small town. He’d wanted to leave, see the world. He had. Then he’d come back. This was home. If he wanted company, he had it. If he didn’t, which was frequently, he could be alone. The best of both worlds.
The morning was already heating up. August was guaranteed to be the hottest month of the year and this summer had been particularly brutal. By the two-mile mark he had a sheen of sweat running down his chest and a burn in his calves. He loved it. There was nothing more satisfying than pushing his body. It had been why he’d loved hockey back in his childhood. He hadn’t been as fast as Sullivan and Jesse, but he’d had power. Strength.
He peeled his shirt off as he kept running. When he was moving past the picnic area by the beach he realized there was a huge crowd of people gathered around. There were cameras and mics set up. Curious, he turned in and paused at the periphery of the crowd, breathing hard. “What’s going on here?” he asked a woman standing there with her middle-school-aged daughters.
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