“Yeah, Pen, I promise.”
You’re evermore.
Blowing out a breath, she gives me a nervous smile and the slightest nod. Heart hammering in my chest, I push out of the truck and round to her side, holding out my hand when I open her door, feeling her smooth skin like heaven against mine.
I’ve held her hand before, but never like this.
Music pours from inside as patrons stumble out into the street. Pen grips my hand tighter as we weave around them, the lights low and romantic as my boots hit the wood plank floor. It’s rustic with a classic Montana feel, the bar usually catering to locals, some tourists, but predominantly those working the evening and night shift.
Pen says something to the hostess and points to a table in the back. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but soon enough, we’re seated with the promise that someone will be right with us. I’m thankful for the booth in the back where I have a better than average chance of not having to shout at Pen the entire time we’re here.
Helping her out of her jacket, I hang it next to mine on the hook against the wall and settle in across from her. The space beneath the table is small, but instead of moving away, I relish in the way our legs are tangled together, the way she drags the tip of her boot against my calf.
Her smirk tells me she likes this new arrangement too, and my belly dips at the sight because after all these years, she’s finally looking like that atme.
And it’s even better than I imagined.
We get matching orders of burgers and beers, the waitress happy to move on to the next rowdy table as I lean forward and take Pen’s hand.
“Thank you for coming out with me,” I tell her, lacing my fingers with hers and admiring the way they fit.
“Thank you for asking me.” Her response is shy, her head ducking a little bit as she looks up at me through her lashes. “I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”
“Never gonna happen,” I tell her as our beers are set in front of us. “Besides, the cabin is big enough for you to have your own space.”
I leave out the part where I can’t wait to have her completelyinfiltratemy space—my closet…my bed.
“You say that now,” she says as she laughs, leaning forward to match my position.
“Pen, I have a decade of you driving me out of my mind with your makeup all over the sink and your hair in the crack of my ass to make up for.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open before she’s laughing so hard she’s at risk of falling out of the booth. To be fair, I hadn’t planned on phrasing it quite like that, but it doesn’t make it any less true.
I want her messy and bare and at home.
“God,”—she swipes at the moisture under her eyes—“I forgot what it’s like to have fun. I forgot what it’s like to not beonall the time.”
“I like that you can do that with me,” I say slowly, looking at her so she can see the sincerity in my face.
“Me too.”
“Two rodeo burgers with extra barbeque sauce,” the waitress says, forcing us to lean back as she places our plates in front of us. “Enjoy.”
We thank her and settle into the first of hopefully many nights like this, cozied up at the bar and grill while the music plays and snow falls outside.
18
PEN
The roads are shit by the time Lake and I make it home, the snow coming down harder than they predicted, and while I’m no stranger to this weather, I’m thankful I wasn’t the one driving. The electricity zipping between us at dinner had been suspended for the time it took us to navigate the winding country roads, immediately starting to simmer again as soon as he threw the truck in park.
Tonight had been exactly what I needed.
No emails.
No rejection letters.
No dead-end leads.
