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Graham rarely attended the formal dances that Scarlet hosted most weeks; she didn’t ask him to, and he didn’t offer.
But Alice was adamant. “If I have to stomp around in those goddamn shoes for three awful hours, I’m doing it on your toes.” It was the last dance before she and Mary and Amber and their mates returned stateside, just a day and a half before their charter flew out, and Graham thought that Alice felt guilty for skipping out on most of Mary’s reception.
Alice planned to put in her notice at the school and pack up her things to come back to the resort, but the timeline for her return was still loose. Graham dreaded the weeks without her and would have agreed to worse than a dance to keep her close as long as he could.
It was no surprise to Graham that Alice was significantly lighter on her feet than she had advertised, and the feel of her in his arms more than made up for the snickers of the rest of the staff and the torture of having to wear a nice suit.
And Alice liked the suit.
Graham was beginning to suspect she’d only agreed to go to the dance to get him back into it.
“You’ll excuse me, my lord,” Breck said, appearing next to them as they walked off the floor at the end of a song. The waiter held out a hand to Alice. “Chef stole Darla for a turn around the floor, so I’m here to impart some of my wisdom to your lovely lady and show her how a dance floor ought to be used.”
“I’ll dance with you,” Alice said, arching an eyebrow at him. “But if you add any wandering fingers to your words of wisdom, you’ll lose them.”
“I’m hurt,” Breck said, pressing his chest. “You injure me by believing I would be anything but a perfect gentleman. My fingers have never gone anywhere they weren’t invited.”
“Oh, I’ve heard all about you,” Alice said, letting him lead her out onto the dancefloor with one smile over her shoulder for Graham. “And I know that Darla will be happier with all your fingers intact, so let’s keep them that way, shall we?”
Breck’s laughing protests that he was sorely misunderstood—and a faithfully married man at that—faded into the music as he led Alice out through the dancers to a clear spot on the floor.
Graham ducked his head, hoping to avoid eye contact with any forward women who might think this meant he was available for a dance, and stalked over to where Tex was pouring drinks at the bar. Tex handed him a beer without being asked and Wrench, who was also clearly trying to dodge an arranged dance while Lydia glided around with one of the guests, clinked bottles with him.
Everything felt... practically perfect.
His mate was safe. His friends were safe.
The resort was solvent, and they were going to own it outright, forever. They never had to worry about having it sold out from under them again, or losing the lease.
There were no secrets on his shoulders save one, and that was not his burden. His demons were laid to rest at last, and he finally felt wholehearted. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone more than he loved Alice, or trusting anyone more completely.
“Who’s that dancing with Scarlet?” Travis asked curiously.
“Haven’t seen him before,” Tex said. Tex had a bartender’s memory for faces and stories.
Graham glanced towards the far entrance. There was a large suitcase and a fancy garment bag sitting by the door. “New guest,” he guessed with a shrug. Sometimes dragons or other shifters who could fly chose to come in under their own power rather than taking a boat or charter plane.
“Good dancer,” Wrench observed briefly.
Graham didn’t have the best view, between the dancers around them and the distance, but Scarlet and the stranger were talking intensely. He couldn’t gauge her mood from here, but it was clear that the new guest had all of her attention.
That generally wasn’t a comfortable position to be in, but the stranger didn’t seem to be the slightest bit intimidated, which was unexpected. He was actually smiling at her.
He looked... triumphant.
“Is he going to kiss her?” Jenny asked avidly, as the two came close together in a flashy dance pattern—much closer than Scarlet’s partner’s usually got—and paused longer than the music dictated.
“Does he have a deathwish?” Laura chuckled.
“Graham!” Alice hissed, breaking through the dancers with Breck in tow. “Graham, that’s him!” Her hand closed around his elbow and she pointed in alarm at the man they were discussing. “That’s the guy who gave me the business card! That’s N. Padrikanth Moore!”
“Here?” Graham balled up his fists. If the man had followed Alice with some idea of revenge...
“Did you say Padrikanth Moore?” Jenny exclaimed in alarm, nearly choking on her drink. “You’re telling me that’s Beehag’s lawyer? Here? Dancing with Scarlet?”