Page 8 of Made for Mayhem

A laugh stuttered out of me, sudden and breathless, like the sound itself shook the last of my fears loose. I dropped his hand and spun to face him.

Instantly, I launched into the Patrick Swayze dance-walk—knees bent, shuffle step, fingers snapping to the beat. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I’m going to regret this?”

“Oh yes.” I pointed at him, already swaying. “I’m about to embarrass us both.”

The music pulsed through me, loud enough to drown out everything else, and I leaned into it—shimmying, circling my arms, letting my body take over in what I hoped was some semblance of rhythm, but who knew at this point. I danced in place as he walked closer, waiting until I could wrap an arm around his waist and circle him, my other arm flung wide like I was claiming the sidewalk as my stage.

Without thinking, I started to sing along, hips moving freely now, every ounce of hesitation burned off by the rhythm. This—this—was where I lived best. In motion. In moments too bright and loud to leave room for doubt.

The song grew quieter the farther we moved from the bar, but I belted out the lyrics anyway, meaning every word as it rolled into the chorus.

“Please don’t do the leap,” Huddy said when I started to dance backward again.

I waggled my brows, dropping lower, shaking my ass harder to the beat. “But how else will I know if this could be love, Huddy?”

He stopped moving, feet planted, shoulders squared, looking unsure what I was about to do—but bracing for it anyway. Hands loose at his sides, knees bent just enough, ready for whatever chaos I threw his way.

The fact that he didn’t tell me to stop—that he didn’t laugh it off or try to rein me in—hit me so hard in the chest I almost missed a step. This man, who’d known me for all of a few city blocks, wasn’t trying to control the moment.

He was meeting me in it.

Before I could think too long about how bad of an idea this was, I took off running.

I laughed at the dawning horror on Huddy’s face as he realized I actually meant it. Right here. On a dark city street. No practice. No plan. Just trust.

He bent his knees, hands out, just as willing as I was to see how this played out.

At the last second, I slowed, throwing my arms around his neck instead of attempting a suicidal leap, feeling his hands land solidly on my waist as we collided.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, like I’d knocked the wind out of him.

His hands tightened as he spun me in a circle, my laughter spilling free, bright and unstoppable. My arms cinched around his neck, my whole body buzzing with the sheer, reckless joy of it.

When he finally stopped, I slid down his chest, skin tingling where we were still pressed together. “You really thought I was going to try to leap into your arms over your head?”

His hands stayed on my waist as he shook his head, chin tipped down toward me. “I had no fucking idea what you were about to do.”

“Would you have tried to lift me?” I asked, still grinning when I loosened my hold to rest my hands on his shoulders.

“I mean,” he said honestly, “I wasn’t going to drop you.”

The words landed heavier than they should have. His hands. His certainty. The way he said it like it was a given.

Even with how little I knew about Huddy, I believed him. That if it came down to it, he’d do whatever he could to keep me safe.

And shit—that was hard to wrap my head around.

Safety, especially with men, had always felt theoretical to me. Something other people grew up with, but I’d never experienced. My mom was gone before I learned what it meant to lean on someone, and my dad had taken the first exit he could find. Since then, I’d learned to move fast, stay light, keep my feet under me. It was just me and Violet against the world.

“You’re not exactly convincing me I’m out of the danger zone,” Huddy said, glancing down at where my hands still rested on his shoulders.

I looked up at him, breath shallow now, joy still humming under my skin. “I think you could use a little more time in the danger zone,” I whispered. “That’s where the real joy is. Where you feel it.”

“Oh yeah?” His hands tightened on my waist.

When his gaze dropped to my mouth, it stole what little air I had left. I wet my lower lip without thinking, and his eyes tracked the movement, focused and intent.