“Honey, I think if any of those cowboys over there even think about approaching this table, your bodyguard is going to end up in jail for assault.” She glances toward the bar, where Jesse is still watching us with predatory focus. “The question is, what are you gonna do about it?”
Before I can answer, the energy in the bar shifts. There’s a buzz of excitement near the door, and I turn to see what’s caused it.
Truett.
My brother cuts an imposing figure as he scans the room, his business apparently finished earlier than expected. He’s still in his work clothes—dark jeans and a button-down shirt that shows off the physique that comes from a lifetime of physical labor.
But I’m not watching Truett. I’m watching Nora.
The expression on her face is one I’ve seen a thousand times over the years, but she always thinks she’s hiding it. The way her eyes soften, the slight parting of her lips, the unconscious way she straightens her shoulders—it’s the look of a woman seeing the man she’s been in love with for most of her adult life.
“Earth to Nora,” I say softly.
She blinks and turns back to me, a flush creeping up her neck. “What?”
“You’re staring.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Right. And I suppose your face always turns that particular shade of pink when you’re not staring at my brother.”
She groans and drops her head into her hands. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s known you for fifteen years.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “When are you going to tell him?”
“Tell him what? That I’ve been harboring a pathetic crush on him for the last ten years? That I’ve turned down three marriage proposals because none of them were him? That I lie awake at night wondering what it would be like if he looked at me the way he looks at his precious ranch?”
Her voice cracks on the last words, and my heart breaks a little for my best friend. I’ve watched her love my brother from a distance for years, always hoping he’d finally see what was right in front of him.
“It’s not pathetic,” I tell her firmly. “And maybe it’s time to take a chance. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“He could say no. Things could get weird. I could lose the best friendship I’ve ever had.” She lifts her head, and there are tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “I could lose him completely.”
“Or,” I counter gently. “You could gain everything you’ve ever wanted.”
Before she can respond, Truett appears at our table. Up close, I can see he’s showered and changed since dinner. His hair is still damp, and he smells like the expensive cologne he only wears when he’s trying to impress someone.
“Ladies,” he says with that easy smile that’s broken hearts from here to Austin. “Mind if I join you?”
“Of course not,” I say, shooting Nora a meaningful look. “We were just talking about taking chances.”
Truett slides into the chair next to Nora, and I watch as she goes perfectly still. He’s close enough that their arms are almost touching, close enough that she could lean into him if she had the courage.
“Speaking of taking chances,” Truett says, his attention focused entirely on Nora. “Would you like to dance?”
The question hangs in the air between them, loaded with possibilities. Nora’s eyes go wide, and for a moment I think she might actually faint.
“I…what?”
“Dance,” Truett repeats, standing and extending his hand. “With me. Unless you’ve got two left feet since the last time we tried this.”
I hold my breath, watching as Nora stares at his outstretched hand like it might bite her. This is it, her chance to take that leap she’s been too scared to take for ten years.
Finally, slowly, she places her hand in his. “I’d like that.”
They head toward the small dance floor, where a few other couples are swaying to the slow song the band is playing. I watch as Truett pulls her close, one hand settling on her waist, the other still holding hers. Even from across the room, I can see the moment something shifts between them. The way Nora’s face tilts up toward his, the way his thumb traces gentle circles on her waist, the way they move together like they’ve been doing this for years instead of minutes.
“Looks like your friend’s finally getting her shot.”
