“Did you catch the fireworks display last night? Thought the whole damn town was gonna go up in flames. You’d think they’d have learned by now… half the fireworks were duds. And who shoots off purple and yellow fireworks this close to Christmas? Worst show I’ve seen in years,” Beau mutters, slurring the words just a little as he fiddles with his drink.
I take another long sip, forcing myself to focus on him rather than on the storm brewing in my chest. “Guess they didn’t check the fuse before lighting ’em up, huh? Probably bought them on sale.”
Beau snorts, then leans in, lowering his voice as if he’s about to reveal some deep, dark secret. “Hell, it wasn’t just the fireworks. Word is, the whole thing almost went to hell when the damn float holding Sylvia Hammond’s little dog broke down right in the middle of the parade route. People were losing their minds, running all over like chickens with their heads cut off. But of course,the crashis the most dramatic thing that’s happened.”
My stomach aches. The world freezes, just for a second. I can feel it. Lo. The way she makes everyone pay attention to her, even when she doesn’t mean to.
“Don’t know what kind of mess that Marsh girl is in this time,” Beau mutters, setting his glass down with a clink. “But people are talkin’. Town’s already got its claws out. You’d think she was the one who lit the fireworks wrong.”
I glance up, my eyes locking on her almost instinctively.
Lo’s standing now, scanning the room as if searching for someone. She doesn’t see me yet, but I know she will. That pull between us, damn thing’s too strong to ignore.
I don’t know how she ignored it in high school.
As she moves, so does Beau. He mutters something about the bathroom, but I’m sure he somehow senses the eruption about to happen.
Her head swivels around, eyes moving past me, and she might walk right by without even noticing I’m here. I almost believe it—until she stops.
And her gaze snaps directly to mine.
For the first few seconds, it’s like the whole damn room goes silent. The chatter, the clinking glasses, even the hum of the jukebox seems to fade as her sharp eyes lock onto mine. Her nostrils flare, and mine respond in kind, desperate to get even the smallest whiff of her.
I could never forget how she smells: peach cobbler with extra brown sugar crusted on top.
Her posture stiffens, as if she can sense how pathetic I am, and her lips part as if she’s about to say something. But then her face tightens into an expression I know all too well.
I can feel her anger rising, even from across the bar. The way it starts low and slow, curling in the pit of her stomach before it’s ready to boil over. I can already smell the twinge of smoke that comes with her righteous anger.
It was how I knew something was up with her family before she ever broke the news to the town. She walked around in that smoky haze for days before the town hall meeting.
I’m so lost in trying to keep myself planted on the bar stool that I don’t realize she’s moving toward me. But the moment Lo reaches the bar, her eyes flare with irritation. She doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. And for a second, it seems she’s about to unleash everything she’s been holding back.
It’s magnetic, that anger of hers. The fire in her soul pushes through the darkness of my own. The pull between us sharpens, twisting the air thick, too heavy to breathe or ignore.
Her scent hits me again, hot peach cobbler, that familiar mix I’ve never quite been able to shake. My mouth waters, and I have to swallow down a growl. Have to keep myself from staring at the expanse of her neck. And, damn it, her scent is everywhere, settling in my bones and making every inch of me react before I can even think about it.
Every time she’s in my orbit, her gravitational pull can’t be resisted.
But I don’t move. Can’t move.
Even though I should get up and walk away.
She steps closer and I hold my ground, trying not to let her draw me in any more than she already has. Even sitting on the stool, I tower above her, and what I wouldn’t give to pin her beneath me and sink my teeth into what’s mine. What has always been mine.
Her anger’s the kind that demands attention, and I don’t want to look away. Even though I need to.
“You again,” she spits, dripping with venom. It makes the words hit harder, faster. “Are you following me now?”
I bite back the urge to snap. Ishouldsnap. But something tells me this isn’t the time for it.
“It’s thetown bar, Lo,” I say, trying to stay calm. “You aren’t the only one who lives here.”
She doesn’t even blink. The space between us shrinks, thickens. Tension coils around us tighter than a noose, until she leans in, her breath hot against my ear.
My heart slams against my chest, my Alpha instincts flaring to life, desperate to close the gap. Desperate to reach my hand out toward her hip and pull her so close that she can feel whatshe does to me, my hardened groin pressed against the smooth planes of her body.
The pull between us is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. Every nerve in my body lights up, begging for me to claim what’s mine, to take control, to pull her in deeper, but I force myself to hold still.
