Practice Husband by Noelle Adams

Author:Noelle Adams
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: marriage of convenience, friends to lovers
Publisher: Noelle Adams
Published: 2018-08-20T16:00:00+00:00

CHARLESTON DOESN’T have much of a club scene.

At least, I never thought it had. Sure, there are plenty of bars, and if you prefer dancing to country music, you have your choice of establishments.

But the kind of clubs I see in movies, with pulsing lights and loud music and fancy drinks and a wild sort of ambience... I never thought we had those. I’ve certainly never set foot in one.

Hunter knows where he’s going, however, as he drives through downtown and parks on the street. When we get out of the car, he takes my hand and walks me half a block, where he opens an exterior door, greets a big guy who must be some sort of bouncer, and then gestures me up a dim stairwell.

It doesn’t look very nice, and I’m already nervous. I’m not sure I would have gone up the stairs had Hunter not put a hand on my back and pushed me gently.

“No stalling,” he says gruffly.

I can already hear the music, the pounding of the bass line.

“I can’t dance, Hunter,” I say.

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Like you couldn’t ride a motorcycle.”

I’ve reached the top of the stairs and I turn to face him. “That was different.”

“Why was it different?”

“Because you rode the motorcycle. I just hung on.”

A little smile dawns on his lips. He leans forward and murmurs into my ear, “So I’ll do the dancing. You just hang on.”

I take a deep breath and nod.

This isn’t coming out of the blue. Hunter isn’t forcing it on me.

I’d told him the truth last week when I said wistfully that I always wondered why I couldn’t be one of those free, uninhibited people. I vividly remember in high school and college watching my friends dance while I sat on the sidelines, uncomfortable, wishing I could do what they were doing, knowing I never could.

Something inside me did want this.

But I never believed Hunter would force me to act on it.

Trying to be casual, I stretch up so I can ask him, “Do you come here a lot?” I have to talk right into his ear because the music is too loud for regular conversation.

We’ve entered one big room which is full of people. About half of them are dancing, and the other half are scattered around, talking and flirting and sipping drinks.

I had no idea a place like this existed in Charleston.

“Almost never,” he said.

“How did you know about it then?”

He shrugs. “Just around.” He reaches for my hand again. “You ready?”

“Can we have a drink first?”

“One. Then no more stalling.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoyingly bossy?”

He flashes me a smile. “Only you.”

We go to the bar and Hunter orders himself a whiskey and me an Amaretto sour. Then he guides me through the crowd until we reach a corner that doesn’t feel quite as claustrophobic. I try to relax, telling myself that I don’t know anyone in this room.

I’ll probably look like an idiot trying to dance, but no one is likely to notice me.

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