Read Online The Hierarchy of Needs (The Portland Rebels #2) by Rebecca Grace Allen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rebecca Grace Allen
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junior high school. Except worse. And more awkward.
And then there was Jamie.
Dean sought her out in the crowded ballroom, locating her in the middle of the dance floor. She was laughing loudly, her head thrown back like she was on a roller coaster. She’d downed a couple of beers and more than her fair share of champagne, but what the hell. It was a party. And Jamie having fun was always a sight to be seen.
Not to mention her body in that dress. Jesus.
Short. Tight. A dark blue color that set off her skin perfectly, and fuck if it didn’t highlight the tight circle of her waist and those badass arms. He’d wanted to find a corner to hide her in and see how good that dress looked in a puddle around her feet.
Dean beat back the fantasy when the staff rolled out the wedding cake. His camera battery didn’t have much juice left and he didn’t have a spare, so he quickly began snapping shots of Kim and Sean as they cut the first slice. Jamie was standing off to the side, and without realizing it, Dean suddenly found himself zeroing in on her. Her hair was straighter today, more wavy than curly. He liked it, but didn’t think it suited her. He’d always seen her as too wild to be tamed, too fun to be trapped by any one style or life.
The last shot he got before the camera shut down was of her profile, the bride and groom blurred and out-of-focus behind her.
Discomfort landed like a sudden sucker punch. Dean pressed his hand to his belly, then loosened his tie. He was probably hungry or dehydrated. He hadn’t eaten a thing all day, too busy making sure he did his job.
Moving to where he’d stashed his things in the corner of the room, he packed the camera away and took off his tie, leaving it in one of the camera bag’s pockets. The bartender had saved him plate of food, which Dean tucked into and ordered a beer. He was off the clock now, so at least one free drink was in order before the night ended. He wolfed down his dinner and was halfway through a bottle of Shipyard Ale when someone tapped on his shoulder.
He glanced up. Jamie was behind him.
“Finished?” she asked.
“Yeah. Ran out of battery. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s a lot more than we would’ve had without you.” She reached a hand out. “Since you’re done, let’s dance.”
She waited patiently, her cheeks rosy. Dean shook his head.
“I’m not a dance at weddings type of guy.”
Jamie rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand anyway. “Whatever. It’s the last song. You’re dancing.”
Dean had no choice but to abandon his drink as she towed him behind her. It was almost embarrassing how easily she pulled him where she wanted.
Not that he was protesting all that hard.
The words “Kick it” came out over the speakers, and then the band broke out in a rendition of “Fight for Your Right to Party”. It was a shocker to hear a Beastie Boys song at such a posh place, but the bride and groom must have requested it, because they immediately rushed the floor.
Jamie released his hand and started to dance, but Dean held back around the periphery, doing some lame-ass bopping of his head and feeling like he didn’t belong. But then she threw her hands above her head at the chorus, her fingers in devil’s horns, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. It was amazing how easily she was able to let go, to have so much fun in everything.
He gave in. Throwing a fist in the air, he jumped to the beat and sang along, calling out the lyrics he remembered until his throat went hoarse.
It was the most fun he’d had in a long time.
She fell against him at the end, sweat on her brow. He thought the alcohol had finally gotten to her until she went up on her tiptoes and whispered, “There’s something I want to do. Come with me.”
The look on her face proved she was about to do something devious, and Dean wanted to stay wrapped up in the moment. To ride the wake of the rush she always seemed to be flying on.
She led him out of the
And then there was Jamie.
Dean sought her out in the crowded ballroom, locating her in the middle of the dance floor. She was laughing loudly, her head thrown back like she was on a roller coaster. She’d downed a couple of beers and more than her fair share of champagne, but what the hell. It was a party. And Jamie having fun was always a sight to be seen.
Not to mention her body in that dress. Jesus.
Short. Tight. A dark blue color that set off her skin perfectly, and fuck if it didn’t highlight the tight circle of her waist and those badass arms. He’d wanted to find a corner to hide her in and see how good that dress looked in a puddle around her feet.
Dean beat back the fantasy when the staff rolled out the wedding cake. His camera battery didn’t have much juice left and he didn’t have a spare, so he quickly began snapping shots of Kim and Sean as they cut the first slice. Jamie was standing off to the side, and without realizing it, Dean suddenly found himself zeroing in on her. Her hair was straighter today, more wavy than curly. He liked it, but didn’t think it suited her. He’d always seen her as too wild to be tamed, too fun to be trapped by any one style or life.
The last shot he got before the camera shut down was of her profile, the bride and groom blurred and out-of-focus behind her.
Discomfort landed like a sudden sucker punch. Dean pressed his hand to his belly, then loosened his tie. He was probably hungry or dehydrated. He hadn’t eaten a thing all day, too busy making sure he did his job.
Moving to where he’d stashed his things in the corner of the room, he packed the camera away and took off his tie, leaving it in one of the camera bag’s pockets. The bartender had saved him plate of food, which Dean tucked into and ordered a beer. He was off the clock now, so at least one free drink was in order before the night ended. He wolfed down his dinner and was halfway through a bottle of Shipyard Ale when someone tapped on his shoulder.
He glanced up. Jamie was behind him.
“Finished?” she asked.
“Yeah. Ran out of battery. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s a lot more than we would’ve had without you.” She reached a hand out. “Since you’re done, let’s dance.”
She waited patiently, her cheeks rosy. Dean shook his head.
“I’m not a dance at weddings type of guy.”
Jamie rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand anyway. “Whatever. It’s the last song. You’re dancing.”
Dean had no choice but to abandon his drink as she towed him behind her. It was almost embarrassing how easily she pulled him where she wanted.
Not that he was protesting all that hard.
The words “Kick it” came out over the speakers, and then the band broke out in a rendition of “Fight for Your Right to Party”. It was a shocker to hear a Beastie Boys song at such a posh place, but the bride and groom must have requested it, because they immediately rushed the floor.
Jamie released his hand and started to dance, but Dean held back around the periphery, doing some lame-ass bopping of his head and feeling like he didn’t belong. But then she threw her hands above her head at the chorus, her fingers in devil’s horns, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. It was amazing how easily she was able to let go, to have so much fun in everything.
He gave in. Throwing a fist in the air, he jumped to the beat and sang along, calling out the lyrics he remembered until his throat went hoarse.
It was the most fun he’d had in a long time.
She fell against him at the end, sweat on her brow. He thought the alcohol had finally gotten to her until she went up on her tiptoes and whispered, “There’s something I want to do. Come with me.”
The look on her face proved she was about to do something devious, and Dean wanted to stay wrapped up in the moment. To ride the wake of the rush she always seemed to be flying on.
She led him out of the
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