By now the place was jumping. People had been squeezing into the cracks ever since they arrived, and the music clearly signaled dancing time. Couples bopped out onto the floor and the Texas two-step, Hawaiian style, began.

Rand slugged back a mouthful of beer. “You wanna?”

“You can dance? Hell yes.”

She was out of the booth and onto the floor in record time. Apparently she didn’t get enough dancing. She’s come to the right place. Dancing R Us. He took her in the semiclose two-step hold and set off onto the floor.

After a couple of twirls and close-hold side-by-sides, she grinned up at him. “You really can dance.”

“As advertised.” That might be the only thing about him that was.

A few people had come to the edge of the dance floor and were clapping Rand and Julie on. Rand released his inner exhibitionist and put on a little show. Julie had no problem keeping up. Suddenly a loud whistle cut through the music, and someone yelled, “Go Kai!”

Rand looked around and saw a guy dancing with a pretty redhead. Whoa. Maybe he should say a pretty guy dancing with a redhead—tallish, lean, with caramel skin that glowed in the soft light, and below-the-ear-length black hair that swayed under his cowboy hat as he danced. And shit, could that guy dance. Graceful, sure-footed, and sexy. Holy hell.

“Hey, can’t stand the competition?”

“What?” Julie grinned at him. Damn, he’d stopped dancing to watch. “Oh, hell no.”

The band segued into something far more up-tempo and fiddle-based. Most of the dancers gave up, but not the beautiful guy. He just stepped it up and out, twirling his partner across the floor. Rand took up the gauntlet, adding in some line-dance steps. Julie picked it up fast, and they held their own. Rand glanced at the other couple and got a stare from Mr. Gorgeous, who filled out his jeans like sin in blue denim, his ass rounding the back and worn fabric cupping his package in front. Stop looking, asshole, before you get a very embarrassing boner.

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