Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror - Aurora Belle (читать книги онлайн бесплатно полные версии TXT) 📗

I purposely kept my eyes trained on my plate while he answered. He would have seen the hope in my sad, non-aviatored eyes.

“Um, actually, I thought I’d hang out here for a little while longer. I wasn’t really looking forward to that party anyway.”

“Oh, is that right?” Anne asked with a curious tone. “I’m sure Ruby would love that.”

I cleared my throat, shoved half a cookie inside of my mouth, and then just shrugged as if I didn’t understand English and therefore couldn’t contribute to their conversation.

“I think I finally won Ruby over tonight. She avoided me like the plague for two years, but you bond really quickly with someone when you’re holding janitor’s underwear and hunting down murderers.”

I laughed and swallowed down a sip of lemonade before clarifying. “I thought they were janitor panties, but it turns out they’re just part of George’s collection.”

He grinned at that and took a bite of his tiny sandwich.

“Is that true, Ruby? Did you finally bond with Sawyer?”

The way she said the word “bond” made it sound like we were having weird cult sex together. So, I decided to play along.

“Yes, Anne, I bonded with your grandson. Does that make you happy?” I could tell from the mischief in her eyes that she had caught onto my sarcasm.

“Well, I’m really tired, so I’m going to head to bed, but you guys should bond for however long you want,” she quipped, pushing up out of her seat and kissing each of our heads before heading off toward the exit. The party wasn’t even close to ending, but Anne had probably had her fair share of Sandy and Gertie for the day. I can’t say I blamed her.

Sawyer caught my eye. “Were you just talking to my grandma about sex? It really felt like it, and I’m not sure if I need to go purge that from my memory or not.”

I laughed and kept the truth to myself, taking another sip of lemonade without answering his question.

The shrill ring of a microphone pulled my attention to the stage just as George began speaking to the crowd lingering around for refreshments.

“It’s time to start the next phase of our party,” he announced, taking off his thin glasses and placing them in the front pocket of his argyle vest. Oh no, shit was about to go down.

And boy, did it.

It started innocently enough, some music played over the loud speaker in the dining hall. Just a little jazz at first. A few couples started to stand up and slow dance, shifting their weight back and forth to the smooth beat. But then someone turned on a local radio station that played everything from rap to Taylor Swift.

That changed everything.

For the next hour, I was on official “grind-prevention” duty. As soon as Jay-Z started playing over the speaker system, the space between dance partners lessened more and more.

“Okay, alright, let’s leave room for Jesus and for Muhammad and for Buddha and whoever else we can shove in there,” I said, stepping between Mr. Tennon and Gertie. I’m all for bootie dancing, but I draw the line when Mr. Tennon started spanking her on the ass.

“So does your job mostly consist of preventing public intercourse?” Sawyer laughed as I joined him at the punch bowl.

I cracked up. “Yes, and I don’t even do a very good job of it,” I said.

Sawyer turned to me, pinning me to the spot with his green gaze. “Do you mean to tell me—”

His question drifted off as I started nodding my head. “Apparently sexual prowess peaks at around eighty-five,” I joked.

Sawyer tipped forward, holding his stomach as he laughed. “So we have a really long way to go then.”

I smiled with the edge of my mouth, surveying the sea of people around me. “A long way.” Just as I finished speaking, I saw Mr. Buchanan sit down at the piano.

“Oh no,” I murmured under my breath and turned to set my cup of punch on the table behind me.

“What’s wrong?” Sawyer asked, trying to follow the path of my gaze.

How do I explain this as quickly as possible?

“Do you see that man that just sat down at the piano?” I asked. Sawyer nodded. “Well, he’s lost all of his hearing. For some reason, within the last year, he’s gotten it in his head that he’s a piano prodigy.”

Sawyer nodded. “Is he any good?”

As if on cue, Mr. Buchanan pressed down on a couple of piano keys will all his might so that a loud “wompppppp” was heard over the rap music.

“Oh,” Sawyer said, seeming to find his own answer as Mr. Buchanan continued to thud awkwardly on the keys, creating a tune that made me want to claw my ears off.

“I’ll be right back,” I said to Sawyer before walking over to the piano and waving to get Mr. Buchanan’s attention.

He couldn’t read lips very well, so I spoke slowly and used my hands to help him figure out what I was saying. “Do you want to go dance with me?” That’s the only thing I could think of to get him away from the piano without hurting his feelings.

I had to ask him the same thing three times, eventually even reenacting a little waltz before it clicked for him. He beamed up at me, shut the lid of the piano and then reached out to lead me toward the dance floor. He held one of my hands confidently in his and then gently placed the other hand at my hip. I glanced up at his eyebrows, white, bushy, and overgrown, but beneath them there were crystal blue eyes with smile lines around them.

He led me around the dance floor at his own pace since he couldn’t hear the music anyway. It was kind of hilarious doing a waltz to a Nicky Manaj song, but Mr. Buchanan didn’t care, so neither did I.

Just as he was about to dip me down for our grand finale, I saw Sawyer approach us out of the corner of my eye.

He tapped Mr. Buchanan on the shoulder and then did the universal gesture for, “May I cut in?”

Mr. Buchanan nodded and handed me off with one last warm smile. Sawyer held me the same way Mr. Buchanan had, but he stood a little closer to me, his grip a little more warm and possessive.

“I’ll dance with you, but I’ll warn you, there’s no way you’ll be better than Mr. Buchanan,” I said with a smile.

As if to prove me wrong, Sawyer spun me out quickly and then twirled me back against his chest.

“Challenge accepted.”

An hour later, after some truly terrible dance moves and two more glasses of punch, we stood at my car, encased in the moonlight surrounding us. Usually I tried to get in my car as fast as possible after a late shift, but I wanted linger as long as possible with Sawyer.

“Thanks for helping me clean up,” I said with a small smile, trying not to look up into his eyes.

“Thanks for putting another murderer behind bars tonight, Detective.”

I laughed and glanced down at the cup of punch in my hand.

“Here’s to a night of getting to know each other, pulling apart gyrating geriatrics, and handling banana hammocks. I can’t say I would have wanted to do it with anyone else,” he said, holding out his cup of punch for a toast.

I laughed and clinked the lip of my cup with his before meeting his eye and taking a long sip.

“I liked that toast,” I said.

He smiled.

“Well I guess I should get going,” I replied, conscious of the awkwardness surrounding us.

“I have one last thing to ask you before you go,” he continued, taking a step closer.

“Oh?” I asked, tilting my head back to meet his eyes.

“Would you rather have me kiss you right now or when I come back to visit my grandma on Thursday? You get to pick.”

My heart kicked up a notch as his words sank in. I couldn’t believe how much had changed in the matter of a day. I’d had a crush on this man for two years. TWO LONG YEARS. And now he was just casually talking about kissing me.

I must have drifted into my own thoughts for a moment because Sawyer asked, “Is it that hard of a decision?”