As the night winds down,the energy at Stella’s Market shifts. Vendors start packing up, folding tables clatter, string lights flicker, but the beer tent?
It’s just getting started.
The music turns up, the crowd thickens, and the whole vibe gets looser, warmer, like a tipsy heartbeat thrumming through the square.
Maya and I are halfway through our second hot cider and making the rounds again, stopping to chat with Mrs. Lang at the pie stall, who insists I take a mini pecan tart “for the chef’s palate.” I laugh and accept it, offering hugs to people I haven’t seen in years.
Everyone seems happy to have me home, and I wish I could fully focus on that.
But my eyes keep drifting back tohim.
Knox.
It doesn’t seem to matter what he’s doing—my eyes are drawn his way. Even from this far, I can see the angular line of his jaw, thedeliberateway he moves, like every step is planned but relaxed. It shouldn't be hot. It really shouldn’t.
“You’re staring again,” Maya mutters under her breath as we browse a display of handmade candles.
“I’m not.” I am.
She nudges me with her elbow. “Girl, you could light one of these candles with the heat coming off your face.”
I snort and turn away, pretending to inspect a jar of something lavender scented. “He’s... interesting.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” she laughs. “Interesting?”
I stiffen when I glance back over to his stall. Knox steps out from behind the booth, wiping his hands on a towel and slinging his apron over a chair. He catches my eye again, that same smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth like he’s been waiting for me to make a move.
Or maybe he’s about to.
“Done for the night?” I ask as he approaches.
“More or less.” His eyes drag over me in a slow, pointed sweep that makes my skin squeeze too tight. “Thought I’d grab a drink. Maybe a dance.”
My stomach does that stupid swoopy thing again. “Lucky you. I happen to be a professional cider-sipping dance partner.”
He chuckles, low and rough. “That so?”
Before I can answer, Maya appears at my elbow with a raised brow and a knowing grin. “I’m heading out,” she says, loud enough to make her intentions crystal clear. “Call me tomorrow, okay?”
I nod, squeezing her hand, and she winks. “Have fun. Be safe. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… which is basically nothing.”
With that, she vanishes into the crowd, and I’m left standing in the soft glow of fairy lights, alone with a man who looks at me like he’s already imagining how I taste. Just the thought makes me clench my thighs tighter.
Knox offers his arm. “Dance?”
I don’t even hesitate. I take it, feeling the hard muscle beneath his shirt as he guides me into the crowd. If his forearm is enough to make me weak at the knees, I can only imagine what will happen if I get to feel the rest of him.
The beer tent pulses with life. Laughter, clinking glasses, and a classic rock playlist slips into something slow and smoky just as we step beneath the canopy.
He pulls me in without asking, one strong hand on my waist, the other catching my fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
And we move.
His body fits against mine too perfectly, all heat and muscle and barely restrained tension. His hand drifts lower on my back, fingertips brushing the curve of my hip. Every step pulls us tighter together, every turn feels like a secret whispered against my skin.
“You always dance like this?” I murmur, not trusting my voice to do anything more.
He dips his head, nose brushing mine, lips ghosting over my cheek. “Nah, only with you.”
