Disorderly Conduct (The Academy #1)

I’ve finally sent out the final round of main courses and start to plate the dessert. In my book, this is the final stretch. The victory lap. Not a single plate has come back with a complaint, also known as I’m breaking out celebration tequila. Since I’m alone in the kitchen while Nina supervises upstairs, I salute myself with a shot and throw it back, eager to see what’s going on in the ballroom. Maybe I can just take a quick peek, then wrangle Nina to help me plate the last wave of her famous mini chocolate lava cakes I just put in the oven.

It’s not very often someone surprises me, but Charlie did tonight. Dammit, he really did. He has been back down to the kitchen several times, even helping me transfer food from pans to plate, garnishing, and yes, stealing bites when he thought I wasn’t looking. Or maybe he knew. I couldn’t tell.

He wanted to put his hands on me several times as we worked side by side. Just something I could feel. Maybe there’s an intuition that comes from having someone inside you enough times you lose count. Little ghosts had moved over my hips, slid across my belly and kissed my neck in place of his touch, because I could sense him wanting it there. As a consequence, I’m turned on as hell right now. No lie. The metal of the prep table presses into my stomach and I close my eyes, picturing Charlie unzipping his pants behind me, bending me forward and lifting my skirt, all at once. Impatient hands, groans, table legs creaking.

Will there ever be a point when we can coexist in the same room and not think of going at it like animals in heat? I don’t know. But our friendship is worth trying to reach that point, isn’t it? Look how he’d dropped everything to come help me.

Promising myself extra attention tonight with my vibrator, I push away from the prep table and remove my apron, gliding toward the stairs. I’ve been setting aside little portions for Charlie and his two friends, leaving them warming in the oven. They really came through for us, and I’m not about to let that go unrewarded. When dessert service is over, I’m going to spoil them rotten.

When I reach the upstairs ballroom, I stop beside Nina where she stands at the room’s edge. I can barely believe what I’m seeing. There is an extremely good-looking young man with his shirt off, arm wrestling the host, a lit cigar clamped between his teeth. I vaguely remember him being in the bar on the day Charlie and I met, but I’d been so focused on Charlie, this guy’s attractiveness barely registered until now. But . . . wowza. He reminds me of an outlaw card shark raising hell in an Old West saloon. And Good-Looking is clearly pretending his arm-wrestling opponent has a hope in hell of winning, but that’s not stopping the surrounding women from throwing money down on the table, shouting for their favorite.

“What the hell is going on?” I whisper to Nina.

“I don’t know.” She’s in a trance. “It’s all just happening.”

“There are two . . . maybe three laws being broken here.”

Danika spies me and makes her way over, twirling an empty tray on her palm. “Hey, Ever. Take a real good look at what you’re getting into.”

My mouth falls open, because I finally see Charlie. He is on the dance floor, surrounded by women old enough to be his grandmother. One is being spun and dipped, her expression the picture of delight, while everyone else sways and waits their turn. “There’s a plate of food in the oven for you,” I say to Danika, unable to take my attention off Charlie. “Go to town.”

“Sweet.”

My gaze locks with Charlie’s across the room, and the most adorable thing in history happens. So adorable, my insides turn to melted caramel. Hair askew, collar crooked, he gives me a lop-sided grin, just as his dance partner lays a smacker on his cheek. He’s actually sheepish as he scratches the back of his neck, like a naughty boy caught in the act of being too cute for humankind’s own good.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m floating toward him.

He’s not cute after that. Oh no. He’s eye fucking me, that wicked tongue resting on his bottom lip like it’s getting ready to do something dirty. The women surrounding him on the dance floor turn to follow Charlie’s line of sight, and they could not be more excited by this development. They’re clapping and asking if I’m his girlfriend. Right now, with a tidy little tequila buzz, I’m not even bothered by the question mark hanging over our heads. Yes, I’m a girl. Yes, I’m his friend.

We’ll worry about the rest after I dance with him. There’s a rare clarity that comes after one shot of tequila—not dissimilar to the one glass of wine clarity—and right now, I’m damn well going to dance with this beautiful man who saved my bacon tonight and has the nerve to be adorable on top of everything.

“Ladies,” Charlie announces. “A round of applause for the beauty who masterminded, prepared and plated your meals this evening.” I curtsey as they applaud, throwing the sweetest compliments my way. Compliments I wasn’t expecting and make my throat constrict. Nervous under so many sets of eyes, I reach for Charlie’s hand and he spins me around. “She’s got moves, too, ladies. Is there anything she can’t do?”

They’re eating him up and I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t mind a bite myself. This is a new side to Charlie I’ve never seen before, and it’s not helping my current determination to secure him in my mind as a friend, while searching elsewhere for something real and lasting. With someone who is actually interested in those two things.

Just as the song “My Type” by Saint Motel ripples through the speakers, Charlie pulls me against his chest, one hand flat on the small of my back, the other brushing something food-related off my cheek. “You were amazing tonight, you little knockout,” he murmurs, bringing our foreheads together. “Dance with me.”

Oh, my poor hormones. They’ve all fainted dead away. I should step back and get my mouth a friendly distance from Charlie’s, but instead, I settle a hand on his tight butt, earning a resounding cheer from our audience. “You may have this dance, sir.”

He pokes the inside of his cheek with that tongue, smiling even as the tips of his ears darken. “You’re not the first to have a hand on my ass tonight.”

I swallow a laugh as he started to sway me. “Oh no?”

Charlie shakes his head. “No, but you’re the first one who might have to face the consequences.”

He’s an excellent dancer, which I totally didn’t expect, making every move feel effortless. Fluid. We’re edging out of the friendzone here. I know it’s bad. Very bad. Because I liked Charlie too much when we were only a long-standing hookup. Now he’s becoming more and there’s a premonition blowing through my head, telling me I’m taking a wrong turn. “Just friends, Charlie.”

His hand presses me close, and I confirm just how unfriendly he’s feeling toward me at the moment. Like, about eight solid inches of unfriendly. And he knows exactly what to do with it. “We could be friends that make each other feel good, Ever.”

“Is that why you came here tonight?”