“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Whichever turns you on more.”
I press my pelvis into his, tempted to tell him we should ditch this party early. Finding myself so lost in the depths of his eyes, I can’t hear the music anymore. I don’t care that everyone is around, or that I told him we needed to take things day by day. We might not be the same kids we used to be, with a few smile lines around our eyes, and even a gray hair or two, but he’s still my Denver Wells.
And I kiss him with the intent of never letting him go again. His tongue brushes mine, our bodies still in the middle of the floor while everyone flows in slow motion around us. When my lips break away from his, the backs of his fingertips brush a wispy strand of hair off my cheek.
He looks like he’s about to say something, searching for the words as his eyes search mine. But something tugs him away from me, and a tiny voice brings us crashing back to reality.
“Uncle Denny, it’s our song,” Odessa yells over the opening notes to “I Gotta Feeling.” She’s practically vibrating—likely from overindulging in ice cream—and her white and pink flower girl dress swishes around her legs. With hair a frizzy mess and sweat beaded on her hairline from dancing, she holds out a hand for him to grab with a wild look in her eye.
“Sorry, baby, there’s a super cute girl asking me to dance. I can’t turn her down—you know how it is.” He winks, running his hand from my back to my waist, struggling to tear his touch from my body.
“I knew it was only a matter of time before a prettier girl grabbed your attention. Hopefully it doesn’t come to this, but I’m prepared to fight a literal child, if I have to.”
“I never pegged you for the jealous type when we were younger, but I like it.” He kisses my cheek. “One—maybe two—dances, and you’ll get me all to yourself again.”
“I’ll be waiting with drinks.” I feel the loss of his touch everywhere the second I pull back, and I nearly trip over myself walking backward off the dance floor. Because watching Denver twirl his niece around, laughing and goofing off, is simultaneously the hottest and most gut-wrenching thing I’ve ever experienced.
I don’t take my eyes off them for the entire trip to the bar and order our drinks while keeping tabs in my periphery. My time back in Wells Canyon has been a continual reminder of all the things I could’ve had. From trips to the ice cream shop to the time spent with Mom. Weddings and babies and building a life with him.
“I was looking for you.” Cassidy leans an elbow on the bar—Hazel, now wide awake, is nestled in the other, chewing on her tiny hands. “They’re about to wind things down here, and some of us are going to have drinks and a fire, if you’re in. Chase and Colt went to set it up.”
“Is it bad if we don’t come because I kind of want to jump his bones right now instead?” I motion toward where Denverhas Odessa on his hip, and they’re spinning in fast, stumbling circles while she throws her head back laughing.
“Honestly, that’s fair. Careful, though. Baby fever is a hell of a drug. I’ve come close to trashing my birth control a few times because Chase looks so hot holding Hazel.” She cracks open her water bottle and takes a sip while watching them with me. “So you twoaren’ttaking it slow, I assume?”
“We’re kind of…picking back up where we left off. Like time stood still for the last decade.”
“But it didn’t.”
“That’s okay. Time stopped in the ways that matter. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll probably have some jealousy flare-ups when girls he’s slept with flirt with him. But I’d be an idiot if I pushed him away—or into the arms of somebody else—because I couldn’t admit to myself that I still love him.”
“Wow, what’s it like to have all your feelings so well sorted out?” Cassidy laughs.
“I wouldn’t say well sorted, but at least I’m not going to say ‘thank you’ if he decides to drop the L-bomb on me.”
“Ouch.That’s a cheap shot. I retract my invite to the fire, asshole.”
“As if.” I blow her a kiss. “Your reverse psychology worked. We’ll be there shortly.”
Spinning on her heel, Cass turns to leave. “I promise not to judge when you two sneak away after fifteen minutes.”
I grab our drinks and find a seat with a good view of Denver and Odessa. Spinning, laughing, and busting out their silliest moves in a freestyle dance-off. Sipping the chardonnay does nothing to ease the burning in my core. Instead, my head’s floating, warm and fizzing like I’m submerged in a hot tub. Sinking deeper into the chair, I cross my legs to fight the need for him.
As the last song of the night draws to a close, Denver indulges Odessa in one final twirl before scooting her towardher dad’s waiting arms. Then he saunters over to me, dimples catching the twinkling ceiling lights, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“Quite the moves you’ve got there.” I hand him his beer bottle, watching the muscles in his neck as he takes a pull.
“It was all those hours practicing when we were younger. I’m basically the best dancer in town now.” His fingers find their way to my thigh, absentmindedly toying with the silky fabric of my dress. It’s the way touching me seems to be his natural instinct anytime we’re together. A constant need that I pray never fades—his hands belong on my body every moment of every day.
“There’s a fire set up outside. I told Cass we’d go.” Finishing off my glass, I stand up, nearly changing my mind about the fire when his palm slides across my ass, stopping for a quick pat on the cheek before finding a home on my hip.
And that’s how we walk across the tent, weaving through the last remaining party guests. Denver stops off at the bar, grabbing two bottles of beer and an open bottle of wine.
Our hips bump into each other at random while walking down the gravel road to where a propane firepit is flickering. Thanks to the dry summer weather, we’re not allowed real fires, but this works as a good substitute for the ambience. Denver plops into an oversized cushioned lawn chair and tugs me by the waist so I fall into his lap with a startled gasp. Within seconds, I’m conformed to the memory foam of his body like I never left. Cuddled in his arms, my legs slung over his, and the thumb of his free hand lightly stroking my upper arm. Giving up on the wineglass, I sip straight from the dark bottle and stare at the amber fire glow.
By the time Kate and Jackson join us about five minutes later, we’re a group of twelve—including a few ranch hands and a handful of Wells cousins. Kate sits down with a mischievous smile, holding up a bottle of Fireball in triumph.
