“I’d rather show you what else I deserve an A in.”
“There’s a point where trying too hard comes into play,” she points out, getting up.
Fuck. I’m losing her? Has this ever happened before? Hell, I don’t think so, not even before I made it big.
“At least have a dance with me,” I tell her, doing my best not to sound desperate. Shit, I feel a little desperate here and I still don’t know what it is about her.
She looks me over and I hold still, letting her take her time. I make myself a promise that if she turns me down, I’m done chasing. She might have my interest, but I don’t need to work this hard for it. When she inclines her head to indicate she’s agreeing to the dance, I hold out my hand to her, standing. She puts her hand in mine. As I lead her onto the dance floor, I feel a zing of heat move from our joined hands and flood through my system. I almost wonder if I’m the only one who felt it until I hear her quick intake of breath and feel her hand jerk against mine. When she tries to pull away, I tighten my hold.
She’s not getting away. Not yet.
I should probably have my head examined. I can’t even fully blame it on not being with anyone in, like, forever. No, I think it might be pure madness that has me walking out to dance with this guy.
“Am I allowed to ask your name?” I ask to distract myself, because when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his body, that electric current runs through me again. I look up into his eyes and see something flash in them.
He hesitates, then finally answers, “Gray.”
“Gray? Like the color?” I ask.
He gets a strange look on his face, before he grins again. “You don’t like it? I happen to think it will sound beautiful when you’re screaming it out tonight when I f—”
“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if you want a chance in hell at getting lucky tonight, Gray.”
“So you’re admitting there’s a chance?”
“It’s getting slimmer.”
“I can work with that,” he says while I’m busy ignoring the way he smells. It’s good. Not all cologne; there’s something else, something deeply male that makes my insides quiver. Maybe I will go for it and end my long dry spell. It’s just one night, right? It doesn’t matter if he is too perfect. That doesn’t mean I’m repeating history. I’d never have to see him again.
“You’ve gone quiet,” he whispers against my ear as we’re swaying to the music.
“I was listening to the music,” I lie. “Is your name really Gray?”
“Is that so strange?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever met one, so yeah. Though, my old man was named Banger, so…”
“You’re shitting me? Banger?”
“I think that was his road name, but if he had a different one, he changed it years ago.”
“I think I like him.”
“He was a great man,” I agree with a smile, feeling the familiar ache of sadness at the memory of what I lost.
“What happened?”
“Cancer,” I whisper, hating that damn word.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Everyone always says that, and I hate it just as much when this guy says it. It’s fake. They might be sorry, but they don’t truly understand. Very few do.
“So… the name?” I prompt him.
“My mother thought it would be cool to name her kids after colors.”
“Colors?”
“Mmm-hmm. So, I’m Gray, short for Grayson.”
“Well, hey, that’s a good name. Much better than… Green?”
“That’d be my brother.”
I pull away to look at him. “You’re lying.”
“Not even a little bit. I have five brothers and each one is named after a different color.”
“That’s not possible. There aren’t six colors that would make…”
“Gray, Green, Black, Blue, White, and Cyan.”
I figure my mouth drops open. I can’t stop it as I digest the fact that five other men are out there with names like that. When I notice he’s watching me, I smile at him and give a small pat on his shoulder, like I’m trying to make him feel better. “Well, hey, at least you got the better of the names.”
“You won’t hear me argue. Especially when it comes to Black and Blue. They’re twins, by the way.”
I snort in laughter and can’t stop it. “Oh my God, you have to be making this up.”
“Afraid not, so see, I’ll need you to help me.”
“Help you?”
“The way I have it figured, if you say my name enough in your beautiful southern drawl, I’ll learn to love my name. Heck, it will make being called a member of the Crayola gang all worth it.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. “Crayola gang? Ouch.”
“It’s okay. I had it better than my brothers.”
“Name-wise again, you mean?”
“Well, that and the fact that my crayon is one of those thick, fat ones that—”
“Oh good lord…”
This time, he laughs… and it’s a really good laugh. It’s a laugh that takes away resistance. Not that that was a difficult job.
“My name is CC,” I tell him as I slide back into his hold.