And Mallory?
Mallory was having too much fun.
Savannah had been so sure this place would throw Chase off his game, shake him, rattle him, maybe even humble him a little.
Instead, Chase became the game.
The Hollow wasn’t a test for Chase. It was a stage. And he was absolutely owning it.
Mallory sat at the bar, drink in hand, amused and—against her better judgment—impressed.
And then—The Song Came On.
A familiar melody hummed through the bar, something low and smooth, the kind of song that made people want to move before they even realized it.
Mallory barely noticed at first. But then—
She saw it.
Chase froze.
Not in a bad way. Not like he was thrown off his game. But like something deep inside him recognized it. Like it unlocked a memory of some younger version of himself, probably standing in a crowded house party, beer in hand, dancing likehe owned the place.
And then—he turned to her.
Slow. Purposeful. His bourbon still in hand, his smirk just a little softer now, just a little too knowing.
And then he held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
Mallory blinked. Then let out a sharp laugh. “Excuse me?”
Chase cocked his head, waiting, damn near amused by her reaction. “You heard me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Do I look like the type of woman who gets up and slow dances in a bar?”
Chase shrugged. “You look like the type of woman who pretends that she’s above it but actually loves it.”
Mallory snorted. “Bold assumption.”
He grinned. “Prove me wrong.”
Damn it—She should say no. She should roll her eyes and tell him to take his charm elsewhere. But instead—she put her hand in his.
And just like that, Chase pulled her in effortlessly. And Mallory felt it immediately. His hand settled against her lower back, firm, warm, effortless, guiding her like he’d done this a hundred times before. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t one of those showy spins or exaggerated dips. It was just easy.
That was the fucking problem with Chase Montgomery—He made it look easy. Made it feel like something that you wanted to sink into.
Mallory exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus on the moment and not the fact that he smelled ridiculously good.
She looked up at him. “Alright, points for confidence. But is this just part of the Chase Montgomery experience? Winning over bartenders, old men with riddles, and now charming unsuspecting women into dancing?”
Chase’s thumb brushed the back of her hand absently, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “First of all, I don’t need to win over anyone. It just happens. Second of all, I don’t just dance with anyone. You should feel special.”
Mallory smirked. “Oh, should I?” She teasesd.
Chase spun her once, smooth as hell, then pulled her back against him. “Yeah. You should.”
She barely caught herself from reacting—from letting out that breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
