Five Alarm Christmas_A Firefighter Reverse Harem Romance by Cassie Cole

Author:Cassie Cole [Cole, Cassie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Juicy Gems Publishing
Published: 2018-12-03T16:00:00+00:00

23

Sparks

Some guys kickboxed. Others watched cheesy rom coms, or played Dungeons and Dragons, or collected stupid fucking bobblehead dolls.

But my guilty pleasure?

I could hear the thumping music from a block away. Downtown Miami was just waking up at this hour, even though the sun had set hours ago. There was a long line at El Tucán tonight, which was normal for a Saturday. I walked straight to the front and nodded to the bouncer, who opened the door for me. I was a regular here, and first responders never paid the cover charge.

My ex-girlfriend was the one who taught me salsa. She insisted that if I wanted to date her, I had to learn to dance, and she wasn’t the kind of woman you said no to. I felt like a dumb white guy trying to gyrate my hips the first time I tried, but with her help I picked it up surprisingly fast. Enough that I was confident enough to go the club with her.

Our relationship only lasted a month, but the salsa habit endured.

It was my one guilty pleasure. A way to shake off the stress of a job that was nothing but stress. The music inside was loud, but not oppressively so like some of the salsa bars around Miami. That’s why I liked this place so much. I made my way through the crowd of people dancing until I reached the bar area where less confident guys sipped on beers and watched the show. Frankie was working tonight—a little Haitian man who looked like he was 15 but was actually 52. He nodded when he saw me, immediately poured two shots of tequila, and winked as he set them down.

I knocked one back and then the other, savoring the burning agave taste that lingered in my throat. I was keenly aware that this wasn’t the manliest hobby, especially for an Irish guy whose only color came from the freckles on his cheeks. Women went dancing for fun. Gay men went dancing for fun.

Straight men went dancing to try to pick up women.

That’s why I didn’t tell anyone. It was my own little secret in downtown Miami, far from any of the other men at my station.

I waited until the song ended to make my way out to the dance floor. The next song began with a flurry of piano keys, which were soon joined by groaning trumpets and a soft drum snare. I found a gap in the crowd and began a shines step by myself, getting into the rhythm as the song kicked up into a faster beat.

I loved salsa in Miami because everyone danced the Cuban style rather than Los Angeles style. That meant lots of twisting and knotting arms, a chaotic jumble of people on the dance floor rather than staying in one geometric line. I danced back and forth by myself, swaying while my feet moved fast underneath my body. Within seconds a solo woman was sliding over to me, dancing in front of me in an invitation of sorts.

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