“I have an MBA,” I said. “Business plans are directly in my wheelhouse. So, if I need to get a loan, I’m confident I can. But I have savings too. I used a little of it to stay here, but it’s still enough to makea significant dent in how much it will cost for some of the necessary changes.” I looked around more carefully. “Is this a parking space?”
“It is now,” he said, climbing out.
I gathered my things, then turned to find him opening my door.
Davis offered me his hand, and electricity sizzled through me like always, curling my toes at his touch. He helped me down, then pulled me close to his side. “Mud,” he said, pointing to the dark ground.
“Thanks.”
Music spilled from the pub as we approached the door, and it didn’t sound like the jukebox. “Is that a band?”
Davis steered me through the crowd by my shoulders until we reached a booth near the kitchen with aReservedsign on it. “This is us.”
We took seats on either side of the table, and a woman in a logoed T-shirt appeared.
“Hey, Davis.” Her smile was warm, and her expression curious. She was petite with lots of makeup, but I guessed her at around fifty. Her name badge saidTina.
“Hey, Tina. This is my friend Emma. I told Clayton we were coming.”
“You want your usual to drink?”
He nodded, and Tina looked at me. “What about you, doll?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “What do you recommend?”
“Our hard ciders are good.”
“Sold.”
She winked, then swung her gaze to Davis and pumped her brows before heading toward the bar.
“That’s Clayton’s aunt,” he said with a chuckle. “She might not look like she’d be one of Grace’s friends, but she is. They’re thick as thieves. Tina and my mom grew up together.”
“Ah.” I smiled. “This really is a small community.”
“You have no idea.”
The kitchen door swung open, and Clayton appeared. I recognized him from the night I’d publicly confronted Davis on his dirty deeds. He was better looking than I’d originally thought. His eyes were bluer. His beard tidier. His smile mischievous and bright.
Davis rose to clap his friend on the back. “Clayton, this is Emma Rini. Emma, Clayton Darning.”
“Hi,” I said, offering him my hand.
He accepted the shake, then rocked back on his heels. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Davis scanned the room, appraising the crowd. “Looks like the band’s a hit.”
“That is no joke.” Clayton clasped his hands together and bounced his attention from his friend to me, then back. “Why don’t you two have a spin on the dance floor. I’ll get dinner started.”
The opening notes to “Brown Eyed Girl” rose from the guitar, and Davis tented his brows. “Should we?”
I only debated for a moment, knowing full well what my heart would think of this later. The absolute last thing I should do was spend time in Davis’s arms.
So why was my hand already in his? And why were we moving toward the dance floor?
Davis stopped where tables and chairs had been moved back to accommodate the band and crush of bodies. He caught my waist and pulled me close as another couple spun past. Heat from his nearness singed my skin and sank deep into my bones. I would absolutely regret this in the morning.
Then we began to sway, our bodies falling into step as if we’d danced together a thousand times.
