If Dustin or Tate ever found out she had catfished Greer, they would never let her near Logan again. She had held a grain of hope that if Greer did find out, he would forgive her. But she had known all along he wouldn’t. Then she had told herself that even if the rest of the Porters never talked to her again if they found out, she would always have Dustin on her side. From what Greer was saying, Dustin would be out for vengeance if Greer became angry enough to tell him.
She took another bite of her burger, choking it down as she tried to battle back the tears that kept coming to her eyes.
“You want another beer?”
“Sure.” Holly forced the bite down to finish her beer.
“Something wrong? Don’t you like the burger?” Mick asked when she looked up to take the other beer from him.
Holly gave Mick a wane smile. “Yes, it was delicious. A chip went down wrong, but I’m fine.”
“You need me to slap you on your back?” Greer offered.
“No!” Holly had been subjected to that maneuver a couple of times since she had lived with him.
She pushed her plate away, unable to eat any more.
“Finished?” Greer asked, already sliding the plate toward him.
“You have no shame where food is concerned, do you?”
“Nope.”
She occupied herself by watching the others at the bar as Greer finished her meal, trying not to think. The crowd was thinning out, and one familiar face in particular stood out.
“Diane and Luke Baxter are here.”
“It’s a free country.”
Greer didn’t seem to mind that his ex-girlfriend was at the local bar with another man.
“You don’t care? You really broke up with her over a meatloaf?”
“Being a good cook is important to me.”
“It must be.”
Holly studied Greer’s reaction to seeing the woman he had thought of marrying snuggling with another man. She wondered what he thought of her meatloaf, trying to remember if he had asked for seconds.
Greer tossed his napkin down on his plate. “You ready to dance?”
“I don’t want to dance,” she refused. She hadn’t expected him to ask her to dance, or she would have worn two of her most supportive bras, Holly thought ironically to herself.
Greer stood up, putting his hands on her hips to raise her from the stool. “Sure, you do. Come on; I’ll take it easy on you until you loosen up. Let’s piss The Last Riders off.” Greer slammed his hand down on the bar. “Change that shit to some music I like.” Then Greer took her hand, leading her to the dance floor.
Holly couldn’t help giggling when the music went from rock to country. Greer gave her a big grin, while the men groaned, when Dolly Parton’s voice filled the air.
“Greer!” Rider groaned from next to them. He was dancing with a woman in a tight dress. The lights on the dance floor were dim, but Holly could have sworn the woman was naked under the thin dress.
She danced stiffly in front of Greer. When Rider mouthed the words “call me,” she wanted to walk off the dance floor. She had never enjoyed dancing, always worried that her breasts would bounce and knock her unconscious, or the men she danced with would creep her out by deliberately rubbing their chests against them until it was obvious what they were imagining.
The music was actually a mix. When “Way Down We Go” came on, the seductive beat of the music had the men moving nearer to their partners. Greer didn’t try to move closer to her, though. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her head to his chest.
“Relax. I don’t bite.”
When the song ended, they danced to another song before going back to the bar, where Greer ordered her another beer.
“You don’t want one?” Holly questioned, taking a drink.
“Not if I’m driving you home.”
When she finished, he took her hand and led her back to the dance floor.
With familiarity, he curled his hands around her waist as they swayed back and forth. She felt as if he had sucked all the oxygen out of the room and was only giving her back tiny doses.
She looked up to see his hooded eyes staring down at hers.
Holly had to tell him now that he was being so nice to her, offering his friendship.
Licking her suddenly dry lips, she pulled slightly away from him, bracing herself for his reaction. “Greer …”
“What’s the matter, Kentuckygirl? Cat got your tongue?”
Holly stopped dancing, afraid she would pass out. “What did you say?” She silently prayed she had heard him wrong.
“You heard me.”
Holly saw the others on the dance floor were staring at them.
Greer’s eyes dared her to admit the truth.
“I’m ready to go home,” she said unsteadily.
When she stepped off the dance floor, she wanted to run, but she didn’t have a way home. Then she looked around and saw Mick. She almost sobbed in relief. She could catch a ride home with him after the bar closed.