Free Twice Upon a Blue Moon by Helena Maeve

tonight, or… Is he going back to San Diego, by any chance?”
    She felt Dylan’s smile more than saw it. “I think he’s headed back.”
    “Excellent.”
    “Yeah?” Dylan spun her under his arm. “You have designs on my virtue, do you?”
    Hazel shook her head. “It’ll all be very spontaneous. Not like I spent all day thinking about it—or you.”
    “Oh, really?” Dylan tipped forward, close enough to press a delicate, chaste kiss to the hinge of her jaw. “That makes two of us.”
    “How narcissistic.”
    His chuckle gusted against her cheek, rippling like a caress across her skin. She wanted nothing more than to kiss him as he pulled back, but Dylan didn’t stop at a few inches. When he turned, Hazel glimpsed Ward over his shoulder.
    “May I cut in?”
    Dylan hesitated, wary puzzlement on his handsome face.
    “Sure,” said Hazel. There was no other polite answer she could give. Ward would be offended if she refused and, hands down, he’d win Dylan in the custody battle. He’d known him longer.
    Appropriately, the house band transitioned into the eponymous Habanera as Ward offered his hand. She took it. “I don’t tango.”
    “Neither do I,” Ward replied. “But if I were to learn with someone, I could do worse.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “That I’m a fan of your work.”
    Couples of all ages swayed and twirled around them, some more skillfully than others. Hazel remained mostly stationary. At least it’s a short piece. Even on an empty stomach, she still would’ve felt a little sick standing there, like a rabbit who’d misguidedly ventured into the foxhole.
    “You don’t like me very much,” Ward noted when she didn’t respond.
    “I don’t know you.” The not so civilized variant? I think you’re a manipulative Ritchie Rich. Whatever hold you’ve got over Dylan, it won’t work with me. Hazel swallowed it back, because it wasn’t true, not a bit. She’d run from men with far fewer resources at their disposal than Ward Parrish and she was still looking over her shoulder. “I don’t even know where you’re from.”
    “Pretoria.”
    “South Africa?” Hazel smiled thinly. “Huh. Of course, you don’t need to ask the same question. Google already told you.”
    Ward hummed a note of acquiescence, his palm warm on the small of her back. “Google told me many things. For instance, turns out there’s some interesting material of you on certain websites…”
    Hazel’s feet became rooted to the floor. Her blood congealed in her veins. “What do you want?”
    Ward’s gaze was more pitying than cruel, as though he was disappointed that she had confirmed his suspicions. Perhaps he would’ve preferred staunch denials. Perhaps he expected Hazel to make a scene. But what would be the point?
    His forbearing sigh did nothing to shift the chill that had slithered into Hazel’s bones.
    “A dance, Ms. Whitley. Nothing more.”
    Hazel made herself move. Dance, monkey, dance. Inside, she was screaming.
     
     

Chapter Six
     
     
     
    The Tesla slid to a seamless stop. The engine’s subsonic hum gave way to silence. Cars still whistled past them, rattling the sedan with their speed.
    Hazel startled when Dylan took her hand.
    “You’re very quiet tonight,” he opined. It was a tentative overture and so unlike the man who’d brazenly written his phone number out on a cheap paper napkin—or picked Sadie up in a fetish club. “Is everything—?”
    “Just tired, I guess.” The lie had legs. She’d worked from eight that morning to six in the evening. She hadn’t had much of a weekend. She’d spent the evening making nice with Dylan’s boyfriend-cum-roommate.
    “Want me to drive you home?”
    Dylan’s offer seemed genuine, much like the rest of him, but Hazel shook her head.
    She followed Dylan out of the car, shivering a little until he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against his flank. They had to part again to negotiate the stairs, but just