This Changes Everything by Jennifer Ashley Page 0,4

spotlight, runs in with a long-stemmed rose from one of the table vases and tells Zach he needs to hold it between his teeth.

Zach snatches the flower from his brother with a scowl, and then turns and presents the rose to me.

“For you, my lady,” he says, with an exaggerated bow.

I flutter my lashes. “Why thank you kindly, sir.”

The guests think we’re hysterical.

Zach leads me from the floor, buoyant. “We should take it on the road.”

I plop down in the nearest chair, still clutching the rose. “Once I get my breath. My feet are already killing me.”

“Don’t move.” Zach runs off through the crowd.

More music begins, this time modern stuff, which doesn’t require months of lessons. You go in, shake your groove thing, and have fun.

Zach returns with two tall glasses of ice water. I gulp mine with relief. It’s April in Phoenix, and it was in the nineties today, only about eight-five now. We’re dancing in an outdoor tent like it’s nothing, because we like to sweat.

I down the water and a waiter appears bearing two drinks that look like piña coladas. “I thought we deserved it after that show,” Zach says, taking the glasses and thanking the waiter.

He sits down and lifts his glass of frothy white ice in a toast. “To dirty dancing.”

“Wasn’t dirty.” I click my piña against his and take a sip. Cool coconut and pineapple slide over my tongue, quenching my thirst. The bite of rum doesn’t hurt either. “That was classic ballroom dancing.”

“Hot stuff, back in the day.” Zach winks at me, his cute blue eyes drawing me in.

He’d had the same effect when I’d been a gawky kid, falling in love for the first time. Or what I thought was love. A huge crush, I realize now, pure and simple. Not that I blame the girl I was for the crush.

“Isn’t this kind of a sissy drink for you?” I hold up my glass, half empty. “Shouldn’t you be throwing back more shots of single malt?”

“Who cares? A drink’s a drink. As long as it’s good.” Zach takes a gulp. “And this one’s good. Talented bartender. Only the best for Ryan.”

He says it without resentment, as though he approves.

We drink a bit more, a silence descending. I wouldn’t mind simply sitting here basking in Zach, enjoying the view, but I also fear he’ll finish his drink and walk away.

I mean, we’re nothing to each other. We’ve come together tonight to celebrate my best friend and his brother finally joining at the altar. We shared a dance to take the pressure off Calandra and Ryan, to let them have a moment while Zach and I commanded the attention.

What is left?

“So …” is my scintillating conversation opener. “What have you been up to since, oh, eighth grade?”

Zach laughs, gravelly and sexy. He doesn’t have a model-perfect face, too hard for pin-up photos, but he still manages to be gorgeous. There’s character in that face, eyes that have gazed upon the world and decided how he’d be in its context.

“Let’s see.” Zach watches the dancers, thoughtful. “Played a lot of football. Finished high school. Went to college. Started working for my folks. That’s pretty much it.” Again, no resentment. I hear no regrets about his life.

“You were really good at football, I heard.” I poke at what’s left of the drink with my straw. “Did you continue in college?”

“Nah. I loved playing, but I wasn’t great, you know? Not the kind of devote-your-whole-damn-life to being an expert at catching a ball kind of great. I didn’t want to make something I enjoyed into work, know what I mean?” Zach breaks off and gives a self-deprecating laugh. “My way of saying I didn’t make it past tryouts. But I really didn’t care. I remember wondering why I was so relieved when I didn’t make the team, not even second string. It helped me realize there were other things to be interested in. So now I play with my brothers and friends for fun.” Zach tosses back the rest of his drink. “Your turn.”

My face heats. “Nuh-uh,” I say quickly. “You’re not done. That was just the explanation of why you didn’t play football in college. What else happened to you?”

He shakes his head. “This is me trying not to make my life boring. I finished college and started working for my mom and dad at their business. End of story.”

“No, no, no.” I wave my glass. The waiter, taking it as a signal, brings us two