The Billionaire's Luck by Tracey Pedersen

Author:Tracey Pedersen [Pedersen, Tracey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Daring Online Adventures
Published: 2019-03-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine - Jillian

Dancing with Everett is like a bandage over my raw nerves. We find ourselves a corner of the dance floor, where people aren’t screaming and kicking balloons, and he slips his arms around me without a moment of hesitation. I didn’t expect that. I expected us to dance separately, in time to the music, moving with the crowd. Instead, he invited me into our own little bubble, and I swear we’re swaying in time to the beat of my heart.

I smile into his chest at that fanciful thought. I’ve definitely had one too many beers. I don’t care, though. I’ll take these moments pressed against him and tuck them away for examination at a later date. Right now, I sigh and lean my head on his chest, my cheek rubbing against the fabric of his shirt.

He’s gentle with me. Probably to protect his hands inside his swaddling. Whatever the reason, I pretend that it’s because he likes me. He has no way to know it, but his words hit home earlier.

I do yearn for someone to care for me.

The responsibility of being a single parent to Jack weighs heavily and I worry every month about how I’m going to provide for him long-term. My dreams of winning the lottery might have sounded like fantasies to Everett, but I could explain them in such detail because I’ve laid awake at night dreaming about what it would be like. To just once catch a financial break. To give Jack a special surprise—something that wasn’t a necessity to do with his illness—and watch his eyes light up. A frivolous gift, for no reason other than—just because.

We sway together through several songs, Everett’s arms holding me tight. The music changes but our movements don’t. I could stay here like this all night. Soon I’ll have to think about making my way home and putting an end to this closeness.

Not just yet, though. I’ll take a few more minutes to pretend this is more than two old friends catching up.

Several songs later, our slow dancing turns into a kiss. I don’t plan to kiss him, but it feels natural—and right. My insides flutter and I resist the urge to laugh. The memories of the couch at Tammy Mather’s house come flooding back and I wonder if I’ll think about this kiss as long as I did that last one.

Everett winces a little, when I squeeze his hand, his lips pulling away from mine. “Easy, tiger. The paws aren’t up to any rough stuff.” We laugh and he puts his arm behind my back, guiding me back to our table. I pull my phone out and I’m surprised to see it’s after midnight. We’ve danced for over an hour, but the time flashed by as though it were just minutes.

“So.” Everett moves closer, his eyes glued to mine. “I’m scared to ask you this and ruin a lovely evening, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“Hmm.” Excitement courses through me and I say a silent prayer to St Patrick, even though I’m not Irish.

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