Mail-Order Brides For Christmas - Frankie Love Page 0,77
door for Jenna, and she oohs and aahs at this special treatment. Then, we’re off to downtown Snow Valley, chatting about our favorite country singers as we do. (Dolly Parton is a champion to us both.)
When we enter the bar, Jenna immediately goes to get us drinks while I find us a table. The lights are dim and hazy, and the floor is sticky with spilled beer. Still, I knew that it was the kind of place that Jenna would love.
“This is great!” she yells over the music, confirming my suspicions as we sit down. She slides a whiskey over to me after taking a sip herself. Her drink of choice, as always, is a gin and tonic. Her scarlet lips curve into a sultry grin over the rim of her glass. I reach out and brush my hand over her arm, always eager to be touching her.
“Have you ever line danced before?” I ask. She shakes her head. Grabbing my drink in one hand, I offer my other hand to her. “Then let’s get going, little lady.”
“Is that your attempt at a southern drawl?” she laughs.
I shrug and grin. “I think it could be worse.”
A small gaggle of people are on the dance floor, singing along to an Alan Jackson song as they line dance. I am absolutely certain I’ll make a fool out of myself, and have resigned myself to my fate. Jenna, on the other hand, picks it up almost immediately. “Come on, Matt!” she encourages, squeezing my hand tightly and tugging me onto the dance floor.
I stumble through several steps as Jenna dances expertly. I get lost watching her luscious hips sway, her breasts in their tiny bra jiggling as she hops. She catches me staring and winks, then nudges me in the side. “A little less looking, a little more dancing,” she admonishes me. I do my best, which isn’t great.
Eventually, after Jenna has made friends with everyone around us, the music shifts to a popular modern club song. Jenna turns so that her back is to my front, and, grinning at me over her shoulder, grinds against me seductively. I feel a twitch in my pants as I place my hands on her hips, slowly moving down to caress the soft skin of her thighs below her short shorts. God, she turns me on so effortlessly. I’ve never been with a woman who oozes sensuality and confidence the way she does.
“Having fun?” I murmur in her ear before kissing down her neck.
“Mmm,” she purrs. “Lots of fun.”
“There’s something I forgot to tell you about this place,” I whisper.
She turns around, draping her arms around my neck, her head tilted. “What?”
Just then, a tall man in a cowboy hat strides onto the small stage in the front of the room. “Our weekly karaoke contest is about to begin!” he announces to scattered applause and whoops. Jenna’s blue eyes widen and she looks at me suspiciously. I shrug innocently.
“Still trying to get me to sing for you, huh?” she asks with a raised brow.
“Maybe,” I confess. “C’mon. You’re a star. Karaoke should be no big deal for you.”
Jenna looks toward the stage, her expression wistful. “I do love karaoke…” she says. When she looks back at me, she’s grinning widely. “I’m going to sing a song. Just for you.”
“I’m a lucky guy.”
She pecks me on the cheek and runs to the stage to sign up. I head to the bar, ordering us another round of drinks. Something, however, tells me she won’t need any liquid courage for this.
Jenna sits down with me and we watch the first few contestants sing. One person wails their way through I Wanna Dance With Somebody, while another belts out Aerosmith’s Dream On, a song I would prefer be left to Steven Tyler. When I visibly wince, though, Jenna pokes me in the ribs. “They’re doing their best,” she giggles quietly. “Singing is hard, and I appreciate anyone who gets up there and tries.” Sure enough, she claps loudly and enthusiastically after each performance. I try to match her gusto.
When the man in the cowboy hat calls her name, Jenna turns to me and seizes my hand. “Here goes nothing!” She kisses me on the cheek and practically skips up to the stage, looking happier than I’ve seen her so far. I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. I have a feeling we’re all in for a treat.