The Wager by Rachel van Dyken Read Free Book Online Page B

under a spell in the form of a pair of long legs.”
    Madame grinned as she settled on the last stair. “Happens all the time. What can I say? I’m a treat for the eyes.” She thrust her chest out and winked at Jake.
    “I want to go home,” Jake whispered as he reached for Char’s hand.
    Char jerked her hand away and approached Madame. “Like Jake said, I think Grandma was confused. You see, we have a list of things we have to get done before the wedding. This was the next appointment. So do we need to pick something up or—”
    “Silence!” Madame shouted. “I will not have your back talk. Grandma said you will perform the dance, so dance!”
    “Dance?” Jake croaked.
    “Dance!” Madame twirled in front of them and snapped her fingers above her head. “I shall teach you the dance of love. You’ll perform it at the wedding ceremony. Now, this specific dance is that of a mating ritual.”
    “Aw, shit.” Jake took a few deep breaths. “There will be no mating on the dance floor.”
    Madame laughed. “But of course not! You’ll be dancing! It is a ritual, not the act, you naughty boy.” With a wink she lifted her hand and tilted Jake’s chin toward her. “My, but you’re pretty.”
    Jake was going to kill his grandmother. But he was too traumatized, too shocked to do anything except stare back into the Cougar’s eyes and pray she didn’t tie him up somewhere and put him in a cage.
    Madame growled and released his chin. “Now, places in the middle of the floor. Remember, this dance is what brings good luck to the marriage. Mess it up and the future of your brother’s happiness weighs on you.”
    “No pressure,” Char interjected.
    Madame pressed a button and suddenly the lights lowered again. Soft music resembling a type of tango began to play in the background.
    “Middle of the floor,” Madame instructed.
    Jake went to the middle of the floor and held out his hand to Char. “Come on, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can leave and get alcohol poisoning.”
    Char’s eyes darted between his hand and his face before she begrudgingly took his hand and stepped into the frame of his body. “Fine, but keep your wandering hands to yourself.”
    “Please,” Jake snorted. “Like your body is any sort of temptation for a man of my tastes.”
    Char smiled sweetly. “I forgot—you like fake… my mistake.”
    “I—”
    “Now!” Madame clapped. “close your eyes. I shall walk you through the dance, but you must trust me, you must trust one another.”
    * * *
    Char’s hands were perspiring. That one word, trust. It immediately thrust her back into junior high. When she and Jake had been doing the trust fall—when he promised he’d catch her—and he’d failed.
    When she was called fat.
    And he refused to defend her.
    Char’s mom had always told her that she’d laugh about it someday, that the things that happen to you in junior high don’t hold any power over your life in adulthood. But she was wrong… When you’re hurt at such a vulnerable age it’s impossible to forget the hurt. Especially if that one hurt launched you into a two-year issue with bulimia and diet pills.
    So, trust? No, she didn’t trust Jake Titus, because the last two times she had. He’d walked away from her.
    “Trust,” Madame repeated. “And follow my hands.” Char felt a hand on her shoulder and then she was pushed forward into Jake’s arms. His breath hitched as her cheek came into contact with his firm chest.
    “Now, Jake, step back,” Madame instructed. “And do the—Oh my, you do know how to dance, don’t you?”
    Char opened her eyes just as Jake pushed her away and twirled her, then pulled her back into his frame, tipping her over his leg in a dip.
    “Trust me.” He whispered as he turned her in his arms, causing her entire backside to be firmly pressed against his front.
    He felt too good.
    With another twirl she was facing him.
    “Now,” Madame called. “There are a series of